Undercover and Under Covers

Chapter 2: Pills and Potions

   The environment at Pills and Potions was addicting. Waves of sweet liquor, strawberry vape-juice, and sweat wafted into your nose, the smooth crescendo of Nicki's honey voice filling your ears.
    At once, an ecstatic and tipsy Taylor was at your side, bounding with some ineffable excitement that could be felt from miles away. Her new album had just dropped and was doing quite well, though some critics attacked her new edgy style. Taylor, however, was in her element.
    "Hey, girl!" she slurred. Evidently, Taylor was already one too many drinks in. You happily slid her arm around you and entered the throng of dancing people. Together, you made your way to the bar through a sea of glitter and leather.
   None other than Miley Cyrus stood behind the bar, mixing drinks and winking at old men who would tip her a pretty penny.
   "Miley! Long time no see!" you exclaimed, depositing Taylor on a barstool.
   The bartender waved and came over to where you and your best friend sat.
   "MIIIIIIILEY!" Taylor screamed as soon as her girlfriend came into sight. She pulled Miley in for a sloppy kiss. You felt like you were intruding upon something private.
   You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to third wheel much longer. Quietly, you ordered a shot of vodka, wanting to feel the alcohol's effects as soon as possible. You leaned against the bar as another bartender handed you the shot glass full of clear, strong-smelling liquid.
   Your nose scrunched as you downed the shot, shaking off the bitter taste of the alcohol. Almost immediately, you began to feel the music get louder and the colors get more vibrant, a euphoric sensation overtaking your body. Your head felt lighter and a chill ran down your spine -- you could practically feel the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream. You needed more of this, you quickly decided.
   You quickly pulled out your card and ordered another shot. And another. And another. And a couple after that. To be honest, you lost track. You felt like your BAC was 100%. You were sure that if you were cut, you would not bleed red; rather, straight vodka would spill out of your veins.
   Entering the crowd, you began to throw it back like nobody's business to the sweet, sweet sound of Nicki's voice. To the side, Miley and Taylor were grinding on each other, the bartender clearly forgetting about any previous notion of her job, turning her undivided focus to Taylor and her soft pink lips. Which ones? The world may never know.
   You, on the other hand, were focused on the tall figure behind you. He was dressed in all black and his hands grabbed your hips as you danced together. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. He began to press gentle kisses down your temple, and his tattooed hands began to wander to your nether regions. You were so drunk, you didn't even mind. His name didn't matter. Who he was didn't matter. His past didn't even have a place in your mind as you so sexily danced along to the music.
   You suddenly felt a hand come to cover your mouth-- you didn't like where this was going--
   "WHOA!" a man with dark hair yelled, shoving the darkly dressed man away from you. Without the other man's support, your knees buckled and suddenly you found yourself on the dirty, beer-coated floor of the club. You looked up to see that red splatters now dotted the mysterious man's jaw, blood forming in small droplets at the edge of his lip.     You distantly noted, since it was your first time really looking at his face, that he was quite handsome. Dark hair fell into his brown orbs as he regained his composure, a hand cupped around his jaw. You couldn't quite remember what he had been doing with that hand earlier but felt like it was something bad.
   Your eyes darted to the man who had thrown the punch. Curly brown hair framed his fine jaw, and he was shaking out his ring-laden right hand.
   "You's stay off of 'er," he said, tone dark and sullen. The man you had been dancing with scurried away into the dark like a sewer rat, mumbling curses.
   He extended a hand to your frozen, numb body.
"'Ello, luv."
   Your eyes wouldn't quite focus as the room around you began to spin. You attempted to speak but couldn't quite feel your mouth or remember how to work it. Your mind felt fuzzy as he pulled you to your feet and you vaguely registered pitching forward into your savior's lean arms.
   "Whoa there," he said again. "I got you, luv."
   The world swam away and faded into blackness.