I Write Romances, Not Live Them

Chapter 12

 "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” -Mae West

Fun. That's what Bria promised me.

Nothing about that shimmery, saucy, slick party dress looked like fun. Not to me, at least.

After venturing into the city by herself to actually do her job, Bria had come back in the evening with a long dress bag that held a short dress. When she'd brought it out to show me, I had complimented her on it. Saying how it would look great on her, sure that's why she had gotten it. The glittery sheen would make her sparkle and her long legs would look miles longer, it would be a perfect fit. She only looked at me coyly, held the dress out to me and said, "It's not for me, it's for you."

"What would I ever need a dress like that for?" I'd argued, dumbfounded as I refused to take the bag. I think the last time I wore a dress was when Bria had dragged me to Senior Prom, it was long and actually covered me up.

She still kept that devious smile on her face, swayed a little in place in a motion that was reminiscent of a small child, and answered "For tonight, silly!"

My heart did a little skip before I asked uneasily "What're we doing?"

When she had said she was taking me out I had assumed it was out to eat, just a nice dinner so we could catch up. Quiet, peaceful, good food and maybe some laughs. My time away from Bria had clearly desensitized me from her ways. We seem to have slightly different ideas of what fun means. Bria thought it would be fun to drag me along with her to a club where we can dance for hours and come home with our ears ringing from the loud music. She assured me that Sophie was also coming, something just mere hours ago would have been a comforting thought. But right then, I wasn't sure.

The way Bria and Sophie had seemed to click so easily together that day kind of scared me. Sophie was acting like the chipper spokesperson for the dark side, wielding out cookies to get you join. Except only after you do, you realize they're raisin, not chocolate chip.

I was uneasy about the whole idea of it, but tired from fighting all of Bria's instruction on Mission: Elliot. Everything she had said up to that point was working. So I squeezed into the dress, let Bria do whatever is she does to my face to make me look good, and made a deal with her that I could wear flats instead of heels. She made me ditch my glasses for the contacts that irritate my eyes. Bria wore a similar dress to me, a cocktail dress that looked like a picture out of a movie. And well, who knows. One day it could be.

At one last glance in the mirror before we left to go meet Sophie, my own reflection looked like I'd smothered myself in glue and swam in a pool of glitter. I was in for an interesting night.

I continued to fiddle with he dress as we walked together, pausing to pull it down and adjust the way it laid on my shoulders. Sophie and Bria walked side by side down the street and I trailed behind. Every once in awhile Sophie would look back just to check I was still there. As if she was expecting me to make a run for it. But even in heels I knew Bria could catch me, I run like a turtle.

Anyone who could see me would be able to tell that I was nervous, glancing around at all times and watching everybody. The farther we walked, the closer I grouped towards Bria and Sophie. I had never been in that part of New York, add on the darkness that enveloped everything and the fact that we were on our way to a club, I will admit I was frightened. Down the street I could see the neon lights and feel the hammering in my heart of the bass as we drew nearer. I had never been to a club, but both Bria and Sophie knew what they were doing, bypassing the line and going straight inside. I kept my eyes on the big muscular man as we passed, silently begging him to protect me. I hope he's telepathic.