Blind Love || Jk ff

Chapter - 7

Hi Loves♥️💜

Well.... today's chapter might be a little spicy and interesting.😜 Anyways, here we go ->

Yn's POV:-

True to her word, Ari pulls up outside my house exactly twenty minutes later. I quickly glance in the mirror one last time, adjusting the neckline of my teal top and smoothing the pleats of my white skirt. With a deep breath, I grab my purse and head out.

"Eomma, I'm heading out with Ari!" I call out as I pass through the living room.

"Alright, have fun!" she replies from the kitchen, her voice tinged with excitement. "Don't forget to eat something nice!"

I laugh and wave goodbye before stepping outside. The cool evening breeze greets me, and I immediately spot Ari sitting in her car. She's behind the wheel, her dark hair styled in soft waves, and she's wearing a striking red body con dress that hugs her figure perfectly.

I slide into the passenger seat, closing the door behind me. As she adjusts the rearview mirror, I grin at her. "So, where are you taking me tonight, babygirl?"

Ari rolls her eyes, but a smirk tugs at her lips. "Babygirl? Really? Is that your new thing now?"

"Just felt right to say it," I tease.

"Well," she starts, revving the engine, "we're going to a club."

"A club?" I echo, the excitement fading from my tone. "Wae? You know I don't drink, and dancing in front of people isn't exactly my thing." I whine.

"Oh, come on!" she groans, pulling out of the driveway. "You're no fun sometimes! You don't have to drink. I'll drink, and a little dancing won't kill you. It might even be fun."

I grunt, crossing my arms. "But don't you have work tomorrow? You'll regret it if you end up with a headache."

"Aish, don't be such an eomma," she retorts, giving me a quick side-eye. "I won't drink too much, okay? And you know I can handle my liquor."

I scoff. "Yea, as if."

"Look, you're already in my car," she points out smugly. "You can't back out now."

Her determination is unrelenting, and I laugh at her sheer dominance. "Fine, fine! You win."

After a short drive filled with Ari's victorious grin and my playful groans, we arrive at one of the city's well-known clubs. Neon lights illuminate the entrance, and the steady thump of music vibrates through the air.

Once we flash our IDs at the bouncer, we're inside. The club is buzzing with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a dance floor packed with people. It's overwhelming yet strangely thrilling.

Predictably, Ari makes a beeline for the bar. She leans over the counter with the confidence of someone who owns the place, and I follow hesitantly.

"I'll have a Whiskey Sour," she says to the bartender before turning to me. "And you?"

"Orange juice," I mumble, earning a dramatic eye-roll from her.

"Party animal," she teases, laughing as she picks up her drink, and I roll my eyes at her before picking up my own drink.

Two drinks later—on her part—Ari suddenly grabs my hand. "Alright, let's hit the dance floor!"

I try to protest, digging my heels in. "No way, Ari. You know I don't dance."

But she's relentless. With surprising strength for someone wearing heels, she drags me onto the crowded dance floor.

The music is loud, the bass reverberating through my chest. People are moving in sync to the rhythm, and despite myself, I feel a tiny sliver of excitement.