Temperature

the club

Chance Sutton. He always thought logical, hated incompetence, was an independent thinker, and lazy at times. The young man was quite an intelligent individual, one who watched out for himself, as well as his closest friends.

Yet here he was, all inhibitions gone and complex thought completely faded by the thick smoke in the air that filled his lungs. All of his stress was completely unraveled. There was a pang of joy in his core as he partied beside the sweaty bodies of sleazy teenage girls and vulgar horny boys;

Chance was quite a strange contradiction of a person, but to be fair, boys of his age lived for times like these where he could freely act out so it shouldn't have been a surprise.

Multicolored strobe lights illuminated everything: the flying dollar signs thrown in the air at females in tight outfits, the highlight of women's cheeks and the ice on men's wrists. Explicit images of people raving and letting loose of all their suppressed urges surrounded the boys; this setting was definitely too overage for the pair of friends.

"Bro, are you sure this is worth the trouble we're gonna get in?" Anthony casually asked Chance, bobbing his head to the generic hip-hop song that the club had already repeated a couple times.

Chance was amused by Anthony's reluctance. He stretched his arm over a petite blondie who had coincidentally stumbled near the young vloggers. She giggled when Chance's smirk was aimed towards her, his half-open eyes glued to her breasts that seemed to stretch her thin tube top nearly to the breaking point.

"Of course it is, Toner. Look at all the booze, the music, the hot babes. It's a dream come true." He cat-called after the fan as she sashayed off and began to clutch another guys arm while batting her long lashes. "Just don't worry bout it, we won't get caught."

Anthony wasn't convinced. "Whatever floats your boat, Chance." He frowned to himself and glanced at the red glowing exit sign. Anthony had no clue as to why he wasn't feeling it;  he tended to be an open-minded person, down for nearly anything. But this club didn't entertain him at all. Maybe his usually chill demeanor was being drowned out by the humid air that encompassed the place, as it was making it difficult to breathe.

But the reason he had come to this place was because Lola was not a woman you could easily brush off; Anthony didn't have the heart to say no to her 'surprise', but Chance didn't need to be told twice. Her suave confidence, wine-red lips, and curvy hips were persuasive enough for him.

It made Anthony more aggravated when he realized that she had gone MIA. It was as if she had completely vanished into thin air as soon as the boys made it past the stony stare of the bouncer up front. Their false IDs and plastered-on grins were enough to slide past the doors; the perfect example of privileged kids used to getting their way.

Chance let out a muffled cough from beside Anthony. He glanced back at Chance to find him blowing out a thick blanket of smoke from his pink, parted lips. "Fuck Chance. I told you not to do that. You don't know where that's been. Who did you even get it from?" He smacked the joint from the shorter boys hand, cannabis dropping on the floor.

"Damn, you buzzkill. Since when have you ever been against weed? You're stoned all the time so just chill the fuck out." Chance chuckled which only ended in a silent cough, cheeks puffed and eyes watering. What he said was true, but something about this place was compelling Anthony to grow protective over his best friend. They were homies till the end, nothing could ever harm Chance as long as Anthony was around and vice versa.