Worlds Apart

Nine

She opened the door, wearing the same skimpy dress. She was like a vampire herself with how she sucked the breath from my lungs. She was stunning. The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her waist and the curves of her hips so tightly that she might as well have been wearing nothing.
"I bet I look out of place in a dress, huh?" she asked, flexing the muscle in her arms.
It made me laugh because I'd never seen a woman with raw strength. For us, it was right to be small and dainty so a prince could pick you up off your feet with ease. Rylie didn't need saving from a prince; she could have been the prince herself. Her toned arms and legs contrasted the feminine dress in a way I didn't think was possible. She looked down at my dress, raising a brow.
"I have a black belt that would fix that," she said, "unless you like the loose look."
I liked her look. Compared to Rylie, I'd probably look like her little sibling that she was forced to bring. I needed to fit in and step outside my boundaries. If these were going to be my last days of true freedom, they needed to count.
"I'll use the belt," I said, allowing her to lead me to her closet and take a black leather one from a hanger.
She measured it around my waist, sighing, "It's a bit too big."
She bit her lip in thought before light lit up behind them. "I have a white one from years ago. I only keep it because I used it on my family's ranch, so it holds too many memories to throw away. It's too small for me now; it might fit you better."
"I don't mind," I replied.
She returned to her closet, retrieving the smaller white belt. I fastened it around my waist. It was still relatively big, but it was way better than the black one. Rylie tightened it, looping the excess leather on top of the first layer. The buckle was black, and it was a nice, simple touch to such a flashy dress. Rylie pulled me in front of a body mirror and stood next to me.
"Oh yeah," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Everyone will be looking at us tonight!"
Everyone should be looking at her; I looked more misplaced than her muscles in a skimpy dress. We spent the rest of our time doing each other's hair and makeup, which didn't take long for Rylie considering hers was only shoulder-length. There was a lot of it, though. I thought I might have hurt her while brushing it, but she insisted it didn't hurt. My hair took significantly longer; Rylie had suggested using a hair straightener to curl it more. But I refused when she mentioned that it used high levels of heat. We left it at that, and my curls weren't perfect without my usual routine to care for them, but they looked presentable. I had to dodge any of Rylie's questions about my hair being so blonde it looked white, and she let it drop. She didn't have much makeup either, which I expected. I let her gently apply mascara and lip gloss to my face and watched as she did the same. When we were finally finished, it was 6:35 p.m.
"Let's hurry," Rylie said, skipping stairs as she descended. "Victoria is about the same size as you, so I told her to bring you heels. You could pull off a loose dress but not loose heels; you'll be falling everywhere."
I was worried about Victoria's initial response when Rylie asked for a stranger to borrow her shoes, but I let my mind drift and asked less important questions. Did they at least match?
I shut the door of the vehicle, and we pulled out of the neighborhood. Driving in the city at night was a lot different than during the day. Every building had lights and glowing signs now, and there were light posts every few feet. All the vehicles that passed us also had glowing, bright lights in the front that made Rylie curse under her breath. We pulled into the parking space of a building with wine glasses and a figure of a woman glowing on the roof. I clicked the buckle to release myself and watched as Rylie looked around the entrance of the building. Her phone dinged, taking her attention from the door.
"Victoria is already here; she's pretty peeved that we're late. She has the shoes in her car, though. I'm waiting for her to come out to meet us."
Just like clockwork, Victoria emerged from the double doors and past the two tall bodyguards that stood by the door. Rylie stepped out of the car and waved to her.
"We planned to go at 6." Victoria hissed, side-eyeing me.
I stepped out of the car and slammed it behind me, pulling Rylie's attention to me.
"I know," she said, rolling her eyes, "something came up."
Victoria crossed her arms and said, "Someone."
What was her problem?
Rylie didn't look bothered by Victoria's remarks, or at least she didn't let it show.
"We're here now; let's just have a good time. Is everybody else inside?" Riley asked.
Victoria pulled a dangling keychain from her purse and clicked a button that made a vehicle nearby beep. We followed her, and from inside, she pulled out a pair of small black heels. She didn't bother handing them to me; she only placed them on the floor in front of me. I slipped them on and walked in place to test their walkability.
Victoria walked back toward the entrance, muttering, "Better late than never, I guess."
Rylie walked with me up to the guards, and she handed one of them a laminated card. He examined it closely before handing it back.
"What about her?" he pointed to me.
Rylie scoffed. "You know me, Scott. She's not from around here, either. I'm showing her a good first impression of British hospitality."
Scott grumbled before stepping aside. "You owe me."
Rylie waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, brute."
The moment the doors open to us, music blared through the air. Rylie led me through the small crowd of people by the door, and we made it to a bar full of obviously drunk patrons. She says something to me that I can't hear through the loud music and laughter. The pink and purple lights above us make me disoriented for a moment until Rylie leans down to my ear to whisper.
"If it gets too much, put up three fingers."
It was smart, and I would have never thought of it with all this noise clouding my every thought. Maybe that was why people came here. Not only for the alcohol and half-dressed women, but because you couldn't think past the music or the lights. It was an escape. Victoria found us shortly, holding a drink in her hands and a boy on her arm.
"Where's Ben and Remy?" Rylie tried to shout over the booming music.
Victoria shrugged, taking a sip of her cocktail. "I saw Ben go into a booth with a girl. Remy is probably fighting the DJ."
That made her laugh, and although I couldn't hear it, I could feel it. She looked lively in the shades of pink and purple that she cast over us.
"I'll find Ben," she pointed towards the booths, "before he gets himself in trouble again."
Victoria nodded, but I'm not sure she even heard. I followed Rylie through the crowd of dancing people. It was very different from the dancing events I had attended. Everyone had a drink in their hand, women danced on top of men, and almost no one was dressed modestly. We made it to the booths at last, but there wasn't any peace from drunk couples swapping spit.
"There is only one way to find Ben." Rylie shrugged.
Before I could ask, she swung open every curtained booth, exposing more than what I wanted to see from humans. Eventually, she pulled out the same man I met before. This time, he had a shirt.
"Watch it! What are you doing?" He barked, shoving Rylie off.
She scoffed, "Saving you from your next charge. Do you even know this girl?"
The girl in question looked around their age. Her long black hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her face was flushed, courtesy of the alcohol. She quickly pulled her mini skirt down and exited the booth, not saying a word as she passed us.
"No one knows each other at a club," Ben said as he adjusted his shirt. "That's the whole point."
Rylie rolled her eyes. "I thought you and Brook were doing fine."
The conversation bored me as the two of them went back and forth. I found an empty booth near us and sat myself in it. The club itself wasn't very big, but it looked bigger with all the bodies in it. In the center, which I assumed was the dance floor, the floor was shiny and reflected the lights above. Around it were two-person tables that harbored drinks and phones. At the back and front were the DJ stand and bar. That left where we were—the booths. They were clearly for sinful purposes, having giant curtains cover the circular little cubicles for privacy. The one I was seated in sat in the middle of the booth area, with a table full of half-filled drinks. As I watched people sing and dance, I realized Rylie was right—this was not my thing. Before I could get up to go over to her, a small tap on my shoulder directed my attention to my left, where a tall man stood over me.
"Hey," he said, sitting next to me, "not a dancer?
I scooted myself a few inches away and said, "No."
He took a sip of his drink and said, "I am; I could show you if you like."
"I'm fine, thank you," I replied.
He pouted, "Oh, why not? You looked so lonely over here."
"I'm not alone; my friends are here," I said.
He placed his hand on my upper thigh and said, "I don't see them."