My heart pounded in my chest as the girls and I made our way to a nightclub in London, wearing our short, tight dresses and pairs of dangerously high heels. The chilly March air stung my bare thighs and sent waves of prickly goosebumps up my freshly shaven and moisturized legs. I clenched the collar of my peacoat to temper the chill before my friends and I reached the entrance to the club. As the girls continued their strides to go inside, I found my legs incapable of moving from one spot.
"Well, are you coming?" one of the girls asked.
I bit my bottom lip, still unable to move.
"Guys…I can’t do this. This…" I motioned towards my dress, shoes, and makeup, "isn’t going to work. I’m going to embarrass myself," I said, my voice getting higher with each word as I began to panic. As the girls just stared at me, I couldn’t help but mentally compile a list of reasons outlining as to why this was a bad idea.
I thought, “These girls aren’t even really my friends. They’re just the girls I met through this study abroad class at my college. I mean, they’re nice but they’re nothing like my besties back in America. Ugh, why did I even decide to come to London for spring break? I could be back in my hometown, catching up with my friends who were away at college. And as a matter of fact, I’ve never even been to a club or drank or anything! Ugh…”
“Y/N!” one of the girls called, snapping me out of my paralyzing thoughts. My head shot towards the direction of her voice as I gave her pleading eyes, imploring her to not make me do this, and to turn around, and go back to the hotel. She quickly walked toward me and put her hands on my shoulders, slightly rubbing them, and staring straight into my eyes.
"Del. You have been looking forward to this trip since September. In fact, the first thing you told me was that you were going to do in your free time is was walk into a bar and order a drink. We can’t drink back home, so take advantage of it now. C’mon, Del, you’re eighteen. Besides, you were always such a good girl in high school. Live a little. You deserve it." She removed her hands from my shoulders and placed one of her hands on my back, attempting to nudge me from my spot and closer to the club. Her words echoed in my head and I realized that she was right; I really do deserve this. I stood up taller, straightened out my dress, and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss.
“Alright. Let’s do this,” I spoke through an anxious smile. We all walked into the club and were immediately hit with the sound of loud house music. All the jitters that I had outside were left at the club’s door as I lead the girls to a table for us to sit at, trying quickly to adjust to the club’s chaotic atmosphere.
“Hey guys!” I shouted over the blaring music as my friends turned their attention to me. “I think we should just go for it and just get out there and dance,” I continued. They all nodded their heads and whooped in agreement. We made our way to the middle of the dance floor and let our bodies move provocatively to the music, hoping some British hunk would take notice to us. After some dancing with no potential suitors, I yelled to my friends, “My feet are starting to hurt! I think I’m going to sit at the bar and order a drink!” They nodded and continued dancing as tall, blonde guy tapped on one of their shoulders. I giggled as I walked away and sat at the bar, waiting to order my drink. I crossed one leg over the other and let my aching feet, donning black t-strap heels that matched my sparkly one long sleeved shoulder dress, tap to the beat of the music. Just as I was about to get the bar tender’s attention, I heard a slow, deep, British accent from behind my shoulder.
“Do you like this song?” he asked. I listened to the song that was playing before I turned around to give him my opinion. It was a remix of One Direction’s, “C’mon, C’mon”. I turned around in my chair to see a young man with messy, curly, brown hair, smiling at me with dimples that you could dive into. I immediately smiled back at him, entranced by his attractiveness.
