Ungodly Addiction

Chapter Eight - Under Bad Influence

I looked around, noticing that nearly everyone was half-naked, flaunting their bodies without a second thought. I glanced down at my long dress, at least the slit was revealing a little skin—I appreciated that now more than ever. Rita, however, spotted a friend and drifted over to greet her.

I headed to the bar, trying not to look as outcasted as I actually felt. There, a seductive woman was serving beers and other alcoholic drinks. She wore a leather crop top paired with matching shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her black leather boots climbed all the way to her thighs.

"What can I get you, blondie?" she asked, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. Her gigantic Afro blocked my view of the shelves, so I shifted to get a better look.

"Uh, just a cranberry juice, please—the white one."

"With vodka? White rum? Gin—"

"Just the juice, thanks," I interrupted.

Her gum popped as she blew a bubble, without its remnants sticking to her lips. Her matte black lipstick left undisturbed.

"We don't serve that here. The juices are tracers, meaning we mix them with liquor."

"Never mind," I said flatly, turning away.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, I finally spotted Rita. She waved at me from the back, forcing me to go through a maze of sweaty bodies and entangled tongues. Disgusting.

"Rita, I have to lea—"

Before I could finish the sentence, she tilted my head back and poured a white liquid down my throat. Surprisingly, it tasted like the cranberry juice I had just ordered, but why was it in such a tiny glass? And why did it suddenly make me feel, dizzy.

The club spun, along with everyone in it. I felt like I was losing my balance, so I stretched out my hand and held on tight to her. I wanted to ask what that was, but I couldn't articulate the words.

"She'll be fine," I heard her say to someone, though the words were blurry. I managed to catch her response.

"Are you sure? She looks wrecked."

Rita laughed. "I looked way worse when you gave me my first shot, and now I'm a pro. She'll get used to it."

It took a solid 5 minutes before I could see and hear properly. My senses had gone on hiatus for a while, but when they finally returned, it was like a veil had lifted, I felt all the earlier fear dissolve. Suddenly, I wanted to dance, probably kick off my heels and dance. For the first in a long while, I felt like I belonged.

As I made my way to the dance floor, my body brushed against a guy who was dancing by himself. Did he take it as an invitation? Probably, because he didn't hesitate to join me. He was the spitting image of Ne-Yo, and the felt hat only intensified the resemblance. He glided toward me, his presence magnetic, and whispered in my ear, "Dance with me, blondie."

I finally understood why everyone kept calling me "blondie." I was the only blonde in sight. The room was saturated with black and colored people with electric energies. There were a few Indians like Rita sprinkled in, but I definitely stood out.

Without an answer, the Ne-Yo lookalike grabbed me from behind and started dancing to the music. I followed along, feeling the rhythm pulse through us, our energies rising as the song's tempo increased.

I glanced over and saw Rita with Nathan—the university's most wanted hot boy. He was leaning in close, laughing at something she said, and I was surprised to see that Rita even knew his name. After a few moments of dancing with the guy, I felt sweat trickling down my body, my heart rate escalated and I began to spin again. The colorful lights and swirling bodies blurred together, and I felt like I was going to di—