Terrible Habits

Bad Intentions.

I rub away the residue from my nose, hoping that my sins will disappear with the same wipe. I can feel the sweat slide down my back as I lean up against the black, leather interior of the SUV. I close my eyes, counting to five. One....two.....three...four.....five. I open them slowly and wish that I could watch the night in slow motion. I lean my head against the rest. Usually it only took a few minutes for it to filter through my system and my hangover from the day before would vanish and I could start again. Tonight it was taking longer. I feel a smack against my cheek and open my eyes, realizing that I had let them shut.

"Wake up," my eyes adjust and I recognize Tate in front of me.

I squint and nod, "I'm up," I say and the right side of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile.

I pinch my leg to wake up as we pull up to the club and slap my cheeks for good measure. I could start to feel my heart beat faster in my chest. The more I took, it seemed the longer the effects took to set in, I push this thought away because it is depressing and I didn't want it to ruin my high.

I don't even both holding down the skirt of my dress as we climb out of the van.

I push past security without bothering to whip out my ID, they know who we are. We enter and they pull away the red rope reserving our tables on the top deck. I climb the stairs with purpose. It's a Saturday night and the club was packed with its usual wannabes, prying for attention from us. Usually I love it, people looking at me, wanting to be me, wishing they were me. Usually, I love it.

But tonight I was on a mission, get drunk, party harder. My thick curls brush past my face as we make our way to our private table. I immediately grab the Grey Goose bottle and pour it down my throat, closing my eyes against the sour, bitter taste as I swallow it eager for the effects to kick in. I shake my head, trying to rid my mouth from the thick, bitter after taste.

I scan the club, it was easy to see everything below you from the second floor. I flip my hair over my shoulder and lean against the railing. The bright purple and blue lights flash illuminating the dance floor below us. I watch as girls grind their bodies up on the men who can't wait to put their hands all over them. I pull the bottle up to my mouth again and down another gulp. The perfect distraction because I didn't want to think.

I feel pressure on my hand and I look up to see Tate standing next to me. He looks down at his hand that just touched mine and I eye the pills in his hand. I grab two from the small brass case and down it with the Goose, closing my eyes wishing that the effect would be instantaneous.

The security guards stand watch at the end of our table and I watch us spread out along the the wide, red velvet couches that were probably covered in god knows what germs and stains from the innocent.

Throwing back alcohol was the hardest thing I had to do all day, hell, all week. And I was a pro.

It doesn't take long before my limbs feel numb, I feel it in my legs. I step up on the small table in the middle of the couch, kicking the alcohol bucket off. Tate joins me on one side and someone else flanks my left. I grind up and down, feeling the music's beat, them feeling me.

I love my life.