Messing with the bad boy

A party

The club throbbed with life, every beat of the music reverberating through the air like a pulse. Bodies swayed and writhed to the rhythm, the scent of sweat mingling with smoke and alcohol, creating a heady mix that permeated the space. The lights flashed in vibrant streaks of red, blue, and purple, casting dancing shadows across the crowd, giving the entire scene a surreal, otherworldly quality. Nola felt the chaos wrap around her, enveloping her in its seductive embrace. She raised another bottle to her lips, tipping it back and letting the bitter alcohol burn its way down her throat. She savored the sensation, the way the liquid seemed to scorch away the edges of her reality, making everything feel just a little bit more distant, a little less real.

"Nola, I think you should chill with the drinking," Emery, her best friend, shouted, his voice barely audible over the pounding music. His brow furrowed with concern as he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the neck of the bottle. He tugged gently at first, then more insistently, trying to pry it from her grasp, his touch almost pleading.

"No," she replied defiantly, pouting like a spoiled child. She tightened her hold on the bottle, resisting Emery's attempts to take it away.

Emery let out an exasperated sigh, his expression a mixture of worry and frustration. "Trust me, girl, you need a break," he insisted, his voice rising to compete with the music. He took her by the arm, guiding her toward a couch at the edge of the dance floor. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers pressing into her skin just enough to steer her without forcing her. Nola sank into the cushions, not because she wanted to sit down, but because Emery was Emery, and she could never quite find it in her to push him away.

She glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "I see Evan checking you out," she said, her voice laced with a teasing edge. She jerked her chin toward where Evan stood, not far away. He was leaning against the bar, his arm slung around the shoulders of a girl who was swaying unsteadily on her feet, a half-empty bottle dangling from her hand.

Emery's lips twisted into a smirk, though his eyes remained serious. "You and I both know Evan is straight," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a small pill. He held it up between his fingers, the dim lights reflecting off its glossy surface. "Here," he said, "take this. It'll help you chill."

Nola didn't hesitate. She took the pill and swallowed it dry, trusting Emery implicitly. He was the one person who'd always looked out for her, no matter how reckless or self-destructive she became. If Emery said something would help, then it would.

"Now, stay put, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks, his stubble grazing her skin. The kiss was quick but affectionate, a reminder that he cared. Then, with a parting glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Nola watched him go, her smile fading the moment his back was turned. Her pulse quickened as the pill began to take effect, a slow warmth spreading through her veins, filling her with a rush of energy. Her laughter bubbled up from deep inside her, spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the pill, or some combination of the two, but suddenly, everything seemed hilarious and impossibly beautiful. Colors were brighter, the music was louder, and the whole world seemed to shimmer.

She scanned the room, her gaze landing on Emery, who was now chatting with a tall, muscular guy. She noticed the way Emery kept glancing back at her, concern still etched on his features even as he flirted. But Nola didn't need him to worry about her. She was perfectly fine—or at least, she wanted to believe she was.

When she was sure that Emery was sufficiently distracted, she pushed herself up from the couch, her legs unsteady at first but quickly finding their rhythm. She weaved her way through the crowd, the bodies around her pressing close, the air growing hotter and thicker with every step. Her heart was pounding, a wild, untamed beat that matched the music, driving her forward with a reckless momentum.