Faceless [H.S]

Fantasy. 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I had no idea where I was going or where Olivia was leading me to. But, it didn't actually matter to me, because me and her could not shut up on the ride there. We were giggling and talking like time hadn't separated us. We were hunched over, talking about everything and anything, laughing and barely able to speak between the laughs.

I felt okay for the first time in a while. I didn't tell her much about Harry or the shooting, just mentioned it briefly because I didn't want to dwell on it. I told her I didn't even look at the news. I didn't even know it had been a week and a half already of me just rotting away in my couch.

Olivia reassured me that my feelings were okay and gave me a lot of hugs. I sensed that maybe she needed this too. She seemed to not want to talk much about California, so I just let it be. Maybe we both had things we were running from. 

Pain was easier to cope with when shared with others.

The cab came to a halt, and we giggled, saying sorry for all the ruckus we caused in the backseat.

"I tipped! I'm so so so sorry!" Olivia giggled, grabbing my hand and holding it tight. She pulled me out the car, and I covered my mouth while I smiled. We made it to SoHo, in front of some random club I have never seen before. It said 'Fantasy' right at the top, and the line was violently long. The music was slightly muffled, I could hear the bass rumbling from the outside.

"Fuck, how're we getting in--" Before I could even finish my sentence full of concern, Olivia was strutting right to the front of the line, pulling me along with her. Was she trying to get in and skip the line?

"Hello you," she said, seductively to the bouncer. The tall man looked at the line and looked back at us. I stared up at her in confusion. All she did was tilt her head to the side with a smirk on her lips. I kept quiet, wondering if this man would even budge. He seemed mad as fuck; his face stern and cold. I could hear some people behind us angry and saying comments under their breath that we just skipped them.

"Go," he said, suddenly. He pushed open the door and we were met with loud music.

"Thanks babe." Olivia waltzed in cheerfully and I just laughed in disbelief. Leave it to her--hadn't been in New York in years and she still knew how to work her way through it as if it was nothing.

"No cover charge or anything," Olivia bragged with a cocky grin.

"Holy fuck, how much is it to get in here?" I asked, trying to talk over the music.

"I think a hundred, I don't know, I never pay." Olivia strutted along to the unknown beat, swaying her hips happily. What a fucking legend. I looked up and there was an array of flashing lights and smoke. It looked to be two floors, and sweaty bodies dancing on each other. They were grinding helplessly, whipping their bodies to and fro. The electronic beat was thumping into my ears, the bass line rumbling into my chest. Olivia quickly made it to the bar, which of course, was full. She squeezed her petite body past people whilst I took a good look at this place. 

She turned to me with a shot of clear liquid which smelled of straight alcohol and gave me a wicked grin. "Bottoms up, babe."

I took the shot of unknown liquor--I believe it was vodka or tequila--scrunching up my nose when it hit my throat. It burned all the way down to my stomach, and a chill ran throughout my body. Olivia made a dramatic face, wincing and coughing. "Disgusting. Never gets better. Let's get more."