Sprint

Chapter seven

"You seriously did not bring me here."

"What?" Sophie looks at me over her shoulder, lilac hair flowing down her back in shiny waves. "The Cloud is hot!

I lift an eyebrow, looking around the club. They seem to have a Rio de Janeiro theme going: the wallpaper depicts oceans, mountains, and vibrant cities, and atop the bar in a far corner stands a miniature Jesus statue with the arms stretched out. "The Cloud is ancient. And tacky."

Sophie purses her lips, eyes sweeping over the decor. "They do seem to have redecorated. But that's beside the point. This is a popular spot with the college kids."

That's only because they have insane offers during happy hour every Thursday and Saturday.

"When was it you met Sennels?" I ask.

"Three years ago."

"Which is probably also the last time going to the Cloud was cool," I argue. "Aren't you a student at U-M? Shouldn't you know this place has lost all its street cred?"

"I'm graduating soon, thank you very much." She throws her hair over her shoulder with the kind of hand gesture you only see mean girls in movies perform. For some reason, Sophie is a natural. She guides us farther into the club, which is, unfortunately to my point, fairly crowded. It's Saturday, after all. "And I have three kids at home; when do you think I have time to go to clubs?"

Sophie only needs one more class to finish her master's in history, and she's already looking into Ph. D. programmes.

"Okay, Mom. Then why aren't you at home with those kids? Why are we here?" I avoid the elbow she jabs in my direction for calling her mom. Earlier tonight, Sophie showed up at my dorm, found a shirt in my closet and demanded I change and come with her. When you've known Sophie Brooks as long as I have, you learn it's best not to argue.

Sophie leans against the bar, surveying the crowd. The bartender comes running despite there being plenty of people waiting around. Sophie orders a glass of whiskey for herself and a beer for me.

I smile to myself, remembering the first time I met her. She was working at a hotel back then and had refused to serve me alcohol because I was underage. Time moves fast.

"This place might be ancient and tacky, but it's still filled with horny undergrads looking to get laid. That," she looks at me slyly, "is why we're here."

"We're here to get laid?"

Sophie sighs, looking at the ceiling like she's calling for patience. "I have a hot swimmer obsessed with me waiting at home; I can get laid anytime I want. I don't need to go to a club for that. Actually, I got laid before I picked you up. You, on the other hand." She looks me up and down, her lip curling. "Clearly need some help."

I cross my arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't had sex in what? Three months? And it's making you act weird and unlike yourself. You're all surly and agitated."