𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐕𝐈

·˚ ༘

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November 11th 2018

ZAHRA NICHOLS

Charles had invited me to a post-race afterparty at some club. Emmy, was practically begging to tag along. "Let me come!" she pleaded.

I laughed, shaking my head as I applied some lip gloss. "You didn't want to come earlier, and you're not coming now," I insisted.

Turning to face her, I showed off my outfit: a tight white mini dress under an oversized black blazer, paired with white lace tights, and black shoes and a bag. "Do I look okay?" I asked, twirling slightly. "I think the outfit will really draw away attention from my face, can't let people know I'm eighteen," I joked.

Emmy checked me out for a moment before nodding in agreement. "You look great. I think the makeup does help you look older too," she said, giving me a thumbs up.

I made my way downstairs and soon enough, we were parking somewhere near the club. As we walked towards the entrance, Charles kept on smiling and waving at people I didn't recognize. Those smiles and waves turned to short conversations with others, and it was clear that I couldn't just chime in. 

As we approached the entrance, I noticed a group of girls, their outfits perfectly put together, whispering and giving me dirty looks. They were stunning, each one more beautiful than the next, and I could feel their eyes on me, silently judging. Was it because of who I was with? Was it because I failed to look of legal age? Or was there just something off about me? I couldn't pinpoint it, but something just made my stomach churn.

Charles, who didn't seem to notice I was uneasy, continued to greet people with warm smiles. Everyone seemed to know each other, their conversations flowing effortlessly. I, on the other hand, felt out of place, my nerves taking over my confidence. 

I tried to shake off the feeling, reminding myself that I was here to have fun. We finally walked into the club hand-in-hand, the music thumping around us, and I told myself I could make it through the night for him. 

For a while, it was perfect. We danced, laughed, and shared secret smiles, his arms wrapped around me. Charles seemed to be in his element, you could just see how carefree he was as he spun me around the dance floor.

I could see he was having the time of his life, his smile wide and genuine as he greeted friends and strangers too. He effortlessly moved from one conversation to another, I tried to match his energy, dancing and joining in, but a small part of me felt like I was watching from the sidelines.

We'd only been there for a while, Charles already became more reckless with his drinking. I noticed him downing shots with a few other drivers and their friends, his energy growing with each drink. He stumbled a bit more, his laugh a bit louder, and his grip on my waist a bit looser. I brushed it off, telling myself it was all part of the fun. He deserved to let loose, right?

I stayed sober, I didn't touch a single drink yet. I wanted to keep a clear head, to remember every detail of this night. Watching Charles, I felt a mix of admiration and concern. He was the life of the party, but I worried about how much he was drinking. Every time he offered me a drink, I politely declined, shaking my head with a smile.

"Come on, Zahra! Just one!" he urged, his words slurring slightly.

"No thanks, Charles. I'm good," I replied, trying to keep my tone light and playful. He shrugged it off, turning his attention back to the group around us.