Annistyn

Prologue

Some people think things through before they make every decision. They think so much that they often miss opportunities for something great.

There's another type of people who are rational. They evaluate the short-term result and then proceed if they think it's good for them. Sure, that doesn't mean that nothing bad happens to them but the probability is minimized to a great extent.

And then there's those who regret their decisions later because they simply don't think before they agree to do something. They believe in living in the moment to such a great extent that they wear short dresses and sneak out of the house in the middle of the night without so much as a coat.

Ophelia shivers as another gust of wind freezes her bare legs to the bone as they stand in the queue outside the club. Wearing a romper had seemed like a good idea when they were in Lola's bedroom where there was heat and they wanted to look mature to pass as eighteen year old at least. They didn't need to get drunk to have fun anyway.

Now, she regretted her decision.

"It is the inauguration today. We'll just tip the big guy and go right in." Ophelia mumbles, imitating her friend Lola as she stands at 5'8"... 6 feet, in her pink high heels looking over the people before her to see what was stopping them from getting in. She wore a white dress with abstract multicolored pattern that ended at her mid thigh, putting her long bronze legs on display. She looked dressed to her nines with her makeup perfectly done.
Ophelia, on the other had wore a plain off shoulder romper with a little bit of lip stick and eye liner. She knew that no amount of makeup could make her look older than she was.

"How was I supposed to know there will be so many people?" Lola glares down at her best friend.

Ophelia is a confident girl. She has sharp features that compliment her sharp brain. There's little that can deter her but with Lola her confidence chips away. She can't help but feel like she's not good enough.
When you're a teenager, envy tends wedge itself even between best of friends.

"ID?" asks the big, bald scary looking bouncer at the gate.
Ophelia reaches for the fake IDs in her bag, silently praying that the bouncer is more brawn than brains and doesn't turn them over to find the questions of the math exam they had last Monday printed on the back.

"They're with me," calls a smooth voice from behind them.
Lola and Ophelia sign in relief before turning around to see a boy who looked a couple years older than them, approaching them casually.

"And who are you?" the bouncer squares up in front of the gate.

"The DJ?" the boy rolls his eyes and waves the MacBook in front of him.

With his dark denim jeans hanging low on his waist, a denim jacket on top of a plain white tee, subtle and black cap hiding all his hair and casting a shadow on his brown eyes, his aura screamed 'bad boy'.

"Do you hear that? There's already someone playing music inside," Baldy scoffs.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's my demo CD playing and the tracks on it end in the next," he pulls at Lola's hand to look at the watch, "eight minutes. So will you let us enter or do you want all the people inside to come bursting out because this club has no DJ on its opening fucking night. Now excuse me, my girl and her friend are freezing here." he says, pulling Ophelia and Lola through the gate, into the main deck of the club, straight to the bar.

"What will you girls drink?"

"I'll have a co-" Ophelia starts.

"Shots," Lola interjects, "Make them strong."

The boy whose name they are yet to know raises his eyebrows and then nods.

"Three shots of Hot Damn. Keep 'em coming," he hands the bartender a golden credit card and a black visiting card before turning around to the two of them.