Coder Girl 2 /Dreamwastaken/

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"Who the hell was that weirdo?" Nick wasn't very impressed by my new friend.

I sighed, feeling a bit frustrated by his reaction. In my opinion, he was being unnecessarily protective and aggressive. It was like Clay's soul entered his body.

"He wasn't a weirdo," I groaned, trying to keep my voice calm. "He was just a nice guy who wanted to chat."

"He was so fucking goofy, dude. And nobody wants to chat in a club." Nick snorted at my words, "Besides, why chat with him when you can try the new drink I came up with?"

I only realized he was taking me back to the bar when he mentioned the drink. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to call that poor guy goofy when he'd been at the bar guiding the bartender into brewing alcoholic potions. I gave him a disapproving look, shaking my head in disbelief.

"You were at the bar the whole time coming up with a new drink? That's your idea of fun?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," Nick replied, clearly offended by my comment. "This drink is gonna blow your mind. Like literally."

As if my mind needed more blowing. 

But despite my disapproval, I couldn't lie. I was a bit intrigued. Couldn't help feeling curious about what kind of concoction he had come up with and how long it would take for it to kill me. So when he held up one of the freshly made shots in his hand, I took it.

"You promise it's not gonna knock me out?" I smelled it, and it was straight up fruity hand sanitizer, "Smells toxic."

He chuckled, a smirk appearing on his face, "Relax, It's not even that strong."

"It is a bit strong," you know it's bad when the bartender had to interfere to give me a warning.

"He said they're gonna add it to their specials, it's that good," Nick bragged, and by the look on the bartender's face, either he had never said such a thing, or it was never going to happen.

"Alright.." I braced myself, inspecting the drink one last time.

As I tipped the shot back, preparing for the worst, to my surprise, the taste wasn't as bad as I had expected. Instead of the usual burn and bitterness, this thing had a sweet aftertaste.

I let out a surprised hum as I finished the shot, trying to process the new flavor. "Well, it's definitely sweet. What's in it?"

"That's a secret," Nick was taking this whole thing too seriously, "Can't tell you the s-"

"Vodka, rum, literally every single fruity liquor we have, grenadine, a splash of pineapple juice," the bartender was listing off the ingredients, "Oh and lots of sugar. The sweetness masks the alcohol taste, but it's packed."

"Isn't it genius?" Nick grinned, "Tell me it's genius."

"A genius way to get someone shitfaced in one shot," I chuckled.

"You're just jealous it's gonna be on the menu soon," Nick replied sarcastically. "What should I name it, by the way?"

I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"Pineapple Pussy."

And it was a banger.

"Bro, hear me out... Pineapple Cock. It's a cocktail, get it?" Nick hyped up his version, but it wasn't nearly as good as mine, "Or we could go with Pineapple Pussy Cock-tail."

"That sounds disgusting." I shook my head, but Nick ignored me completely and turned to the bartender.

"Can we get two more shots of Pineapple Pussy Cock-tail with extra pineapple, please?" His order got the bartender laughing.

"We ran out of pineapples. Would you like to replace it with extra cock?" The guy was either hilarious or had serious coping skills from dealing with drunks all the time.

"Nah, I'll pass on that," I got up and immediately felt dizzy, but couldn't let it stop me, "I'm gonna go dance."

Nick quickly reached out to steady me as I got up, noticing the slight wooziness in my step. He also fixed my dress, pulling it down because it had ridden up too high on my thighs.

"You sure you're okay to dance? You seem a bit dizzy."

"I'll be fine," I shrugged it off, "If anything, I'll blame it on your Cock Sucker Pussy Whacker Pineapple juice."

Nick laughed, rolling his eyes, "Hey, that's Pineapple Pussy Cock-tail to you," he corrected me, "But, seriously, don't go too crazy, I don't want you passing out or dying."

I chuckled, giving him a nod before I made my way to the dance floor, feeling a little unsteady on my heels but determined to make it there without wobbling. Once I found a good enough spot, I relaxed my body and started moving.

I noticed Kyle waving at me from across the dance floor and gave him a small wave back, feeling a little guilty for brushing him off earlier when he clearly meant no harm. But he was having fun, and that's all that matters.

I wasn't sure if it was the songs getting better or if the alcohol was making them sound better, but either way, I was having the time of my life. I let loose and got lost in the music, completely forgetting about everything else. It was pure bliss, and for a minute, I thought nothing could go wrong.

That was when I suddenly felt someone press up against me from behind. I felt their hands on my hips, pulling me uncomfortably close. I froze, shocked and disgusted by the sudden touch.

My first instinct was to grab the hands grabbing me and push them away, and ideally turn around and slap the person, but I realized that I was dealing with someone much taller, much stronger, and probably more sober than me.

My heart was racing as I felt their hands travel higher, assuming the worst. But to my surprise, they simply adjusted my dress, fixing the slipping fabric with a gentle tug.

"Doing such a great job defending yourself, aren't you?"

I recognized Clay's voice immediately, his words in my ear sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't know if I was relieved or annoyed.

I spun around to see him indeed standing behind me, frustration clear on his face.

I crossed my arms and scowled at him, "What are you doing here? And why the fuck were you grabbing me like that?"

Either he didn't hear me through the music or simply didn't give a fuck. But the fact was that he didn't respond to my question, instead grabbing my wrist in a firm grip and pulling me through the crowd of people. I tried to protest, but his grip was too strong, and I had no choice but to follow him.

As he dragged me outside around the corner where the music was quieter and the air cooler, I finally managed to yank my wrist free from his grip and turned to face him, annoyance etched on my face.

My annoyance had nothing on the madness on his face. He leaned in close, inspecting my eyes. He could tell I was drunk just by looking at them.