twisted | ✔️

chapter two

       

I didn't care that it was the first week of December; I had slipped into a long-sleeved mesh bodysuit and tight, black leather shorts. Between the hot, sweaty bodies that slid against me on the dance floor and the alcohol that coursed through my blood, I didn't even notice the cold.

The music was loud and the bar was crowded, but I knew just the way to get the bartender's attention. I propped myself up on the lip of the base of the wooden counter, pushing my chest over the surface and extending my hand out. He looked over, finishing up the drink he was mixing, and saw me, falling out of the top of my bra, my smoky eyes looking him up and down, red lips pursed in a smile, and without losing eye contact, he pushed the drink he'd finished toward the customer, pocketing the cash, and made his way over to me.

The music was pulsating between us, loudly, so he leaned toward me, angled his mouth next to my ear, his breath hot on my neck, and said, "What can I get for you?"

"Two vodka tonics," I said, my lip brushing lightly against the lobe of his ear, my voice low and throaty. I reached into my back pocket and slowly slipped my credit card into his hand, my fingers taking their time exiting his. I watched as he tipped the bottles into two glasses, lifting them quickly up in the air and then back down like a waterfall, his black shirt tight against his skin, the muscles in his shoulders moving with the rhythm, the veins in his biceps tattooed across his arms. He looked up at me studying him and flashed a smile with a quick wink, and it was funny because I could tell he thought he had me under his spell.

He slid the finished drinks across the counter, saying, "Anything else I can get for you?" The innuendo was dripping from his voice.

I made a face like I was thinking about it. "Hmm. Probably later." He tried to return my card to me but I told him to keep my tab open, looking over my shoulder at him and biting my lower lip in a smile as I walked away. He couldn't stop looking—right around my pinky finger.

"Drink up," I told Casey as I pushed my way through the crowd, one drink in each hand up above my head to prevent anyone from causing me to spill them. I set Casey's down in front of her and retook my seat across from her. There was a plate of chips in the middle of the table, and she was nervously snacking on them, looking around as if she wasn't sure she was in the right place. She studied the glass, taking it in like a piece of artwork, while I had bypassed the straw on mine, pouring it straight down my throat, not even tasting it.

"I don't think I can do that," Casey said, commenting on my speed.

"Well, she's had some practice," Emmy said, elbowing me and snorting out a laugh. "You don't have to keep up with her. You just have to have fun."

And then we watched as she leaned over and took a sip. She'd had cups full of warm beer at parties or glasses of wine at dinner, sure, but never too much. Nothing like this, where she entered the night with a plan to drink until she had no inhibitions, dance on a table, throw up over the side of the balcony outside, maybe meet a stranger—where she told us not to let her back out. Casey was always the responsible one, the one who always made sure we had a ride; who took us to the drive-thru at midnight and ordered us double cheeseburgers and large fries, along with the largest possible bottles of water; who let us fall asleep on the opposite side of her queen-sized bed if we didn't want to go home and face a round of twenty questions; and as she choked down her first drink of the night, her face varying between a cringe and a smile, the two of us loudly applauding her accomplishment, I knew all of those nights before would be well worth it.

"I don't know how I feel about this," she said, but continued to drink anyway.

"Is it your birthday?" a voice called out from behind her. The voice sauntered up next to us, taking the empty seat next to Casey, his friend leaning over the table onto his forearms. For a second, I couldn't tell them apart—short-cropped hair, tight V-necks, pretty boy faces.