Love me. Choose me.

{6} Love me

I found myself standing in front of a cyclone of a building, my first instinct telling me it was a party house. The huge neon sign above confirmed my suspicions.

The Wallingford Club.

"We're here, beautiful," Trent said with a smug smile. I surveyed the area; aside from the lights hanging at the entrance, it was dark and sparse. My stomach fluttered with apprehension as the cool wind brushed against my exposed shoulders, whistling past my ears. Was I really about to step into a building roaring with music?

The only time I'd heard the word "club" was when my mom brought home her critiques, dripping with sarcasm about every one she was too afraid to enter. I hadn’t realized how much that fear had seeped into me until I was standing before one myself.

"Come on, babe." Trent gently took my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Trust me, it'll be fun." He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, the same ones that made him undeniably handsome and hard to resist.

I nodded, forcing a half-smile as we approached the large glass door, revealing glimpses of the interior. Shane’s voice sang "I Knew You Were Trouble" by Taylor Swift in my head as we stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, with flickering lights and tired disco balls casting a gentle glow. Girls danced on short platforms while their boyfriends watched with admiration. A crowd had gathered around two girls with dark curly hair and pale skin, almost translucent. They wore matching blue skirts and shirts, their hands gliding gracefully over the boys beside them with each turn and movement, hypnotic and seductive. If it weren't such an awkward place for me, I might have stared longer than just a few minutes.

Each sway of their hips and every breath they took lingered in the air, mingling with the smoke that clung to them like ethereal rings.

 

"Let’s get some drinks," Trent said over the obnoxiously loud music that I wasn’t a fan of.

I nodded, unsure if I belonged in such a place while my friends were buried in textbooks, studying for first-year grades. Still holding my hand, Trent pulled me through the crowd toward an open bar area in the corner of the club. The cacophony of laughter and music filled my ears, making my head spin. It took all my effort not to wince. I was sure my voice left me, or maybe I couldn't hear myself talk. Everything was new to me.

"Wow, I didn't know you'd come," a familiar voice called out behind me. I turned quickly, startled. Dylan stood there with an easy smile, his gray t-shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a smooth chest, while dark blue jeans hugged his frame. "Hot chick! If I were Trent, I'd do anything to get in there."

I wasn't sure if I had misheard, but I was certain those words came from him. Trent exchanged a handshake with Dylan and grabbed a bottle from the counter, handing it to him. "Let’s have a blow."

Shane’s voice echoed in my mind, sending a shiver down my spine: 'He probably will take you to a lounge and get you drunk.'

Reality hit me hard.

"Babe, what’s the problem?" Trent asked as we continued through a hallway leading to our section of the club. The walls were lined with white-painted wooden panels, and historical pictures of a man and woman adorned gold frames on either side. Above us, a large round hole in the ceiling let in a soft blue glow from the moon.

"Not—Nothing, I’m fine," I mumbled, my cheeks burning like heated iron. I was sure they radiated enough heat to draw attention, but everyone around me was too caught up in drinking and smoking to notice.

I sat on the three-seater couch with Trent beside me, his hand resting casually behind my shoulder. Opposite us, three girls were seated with Thomas, another one of Trent’s friends.

Dylan dropped a bottle on the table alongside others. "Which one do you prefer?" He asked, his gaze fixed on me.

I instinctively leaned away from the bottles, shifting my eyes back to Trent, who looked concerned. "I—" I cleared my throat, trying to mask any signs of emotion. "I don't drink alcohol." My gaze finally landed back on Dylan, who chuckled softly.

Thomas eyed me with a piercing look. "What do you mean by that?"

"What’s she?" one of the girls next to Thomas laughed. "Holy Mary, freaking out."

I shot her a glare, ready to retaliate with words.

Trent chuckled, a sympathetic smirk on his lips. "Calm down, guys. No need for violence." He leaned closer to me, addressing the girls. "Noelle is just shy. She needs time to get comfortable around alcohol. It's normal to be nervous."

"Noelle." One girl with short blonde hair said, as if savoring the name. "That’s cool. Anyway, welcome to our quad."

I looked down to avoid Trent's amused expression. "Thanks, but I'm not a fan," I muttered.

The girl appeared shocked. "Jeez, you’re a crazy girl." She eyed me before downing the drink in her hand.

Trent patted my hand, perhaps trying to signal me to ignore his friends’ antics. But if he associated with such wild personalities, maybe he had his own quirks too.

"Don't mind them." A dark-haired boy in black jeans and a hoodie smiled kindly at me before turning back to Dylan and the others. "So, what’s the plan tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at their drunken state.

My phone lit up, vibrating in my hand. A heart-shaped emoji with a dazzled face appeared on the screen: BFF Forever.

I swiped and declined the call.

"Who's that?" Trent asked, his eyes fixed on my phone.

I hesitated but couldn’t resist his earnest gaze. "My dorm mate," I replied with a sigh.

He nodded, understanding, then closed his eyes as he sipped his drink. When he opened them, he wore an adorable smile. He filled his glass again and hoisted it toward me. "Want some?" His voice was soft like velvet. I shook my head, declining.

"Oh come on, babe." He placed the glass back on the table, his arm resting casually on the couch cushion beside me. "Drink." His tone lacked authority, yet the command was clear. I stared at him for a moment, searching for the strength to refuse again. Suddenly, my mouth spoke before I could think.

"I said, I don't want to drink. What's your problem?" I scooted away slightly, causing him to sigh in disappointment.

"She's a chicken, scared of drinking. Teacher’s pet," the blonde girl laughed. Was that supposed to be an insult? It sounded meaningless to me. She filled her glass and looked up to make eye contact with me. "She’ll die if she drinks it."

"You have to prove her wrong," my inner voice urged as I maintained eye contact with the blonde girl. A smile formed at the corner of my lips. "Show them you aren't scared. You're just... different from them."

"You guys shouldn't force her," the dark-haired boy scoffed. "Not everyone likes alcoholic drinks."

I felt Trent stiffen beside me, but it didn’t matter anymore. I grabbed the glass from the table and brought it close to my lips.

Author's note

This chapter delves into some real and potentially uncomfortable experiences, reflecting situations that can happen in reality. Writing this chapter, I drew from my own experiences. Imagine falling into the wrong crowd during your first week on campus. The world is changing, but it's important to be aware of these situations so you can better navigate and avoid them.

Top questions

What's your say about Trent?

Do you think he loves her or does he just want to take advantage?

Do you think Noelle is in a good start by her latter response?

Thanks for reading

With love
Clara Joel.