Chapter Four
Annika
The room is crowded. The music is loud. And if I look too closely at the strobe lights, I’m likely to have a Pokémon seizure. It’s everything I don’t care to be a part of on a Thursday night.
Sweaty bodies grind into each other all over the dance floor, making me grimace. I’m not a germaphobe, but I don’t know how people rub all over each without knowing where that sweat came from. It grosses me out. But at least Lauren and Kiersten are having a good time. I can’t begrudge them that, even if I can only hope they paid attention to my incessant badgering on the way here about being safe, staying together, and never going home with a stranger.
They both rolled their eyes at me and told me I was going to miss out on a really good one-night stand someday with an attitude like that. What they forget is I have an older brother who enlightened me to the guy’s way of thinking about a one-night stand. “If I’m never going to see her again, it doesn’t matter if I’m a good lay or not.” I don’t think I’ll be missing anything by not going home with a stranger tonight.
Waving my credit card at the bartender, I continue waiting to catch his attention. It’s hot in here, and I desperately need something to drink. For the first time, I’m grateful Lauren got me a fake ID. If I’m going to make it through tonight, I probably need a beverage of the mixed variety.
Just as I’m yanking my skirt down—the skirt that looks good in the mirror but likes to ride up when doing anything except standing—Lauren comes dancing up.
“What are you doing sitting over here, you party pooper?”
“Trying to get the bartender’s attention,” I yell over the music. “He doesn’t seem very interested in me.”
“That’s because you keep pulling your skirt down. Why do you keep doing that?”
I bat her hands away as she tries to get me to let go of the offending garment. “Because I remember now why I hate this dress. It keeps riding up, and I don’t need to flash the whole room.”
She purses her lips, getting ready to make a point, no doubt. “Well no wonder you can’t get any service. You’re not using what God gave you.” She jumps up on the counter and crosses her legs, leaning on her hand to flash some barely-there cleavage. The bartender immediately raises his eyebrows in recognition.
“I’m not sure why she gets to wear skinny jeans and I had to wear this stupid dress,” I grumble to myself. But I suppose it has to do with the fact that her shirt dips low enough to give him a peek at those non-existent gymnast boobs.
Soon enough, he swaggers over with a smile on his face, looking her right in the eyes as he gets her order. Oh yeah. He’s working for some serious tips.
“What do you want to drink, Annika?” she yells over to me, as she clings to his shoulder.
“I’d like a strawberry mojito, but I hate when the mint gets stuck in my straw.”
He nods in understanding, noticing me for the first time. “I’ll take care of that for ya.”
I give him a thumb’s up and slip my card back in my pocket as she whispers something in his ear. Oh geez. I don’t know how she can even think about flirting with the bartender. Does she not realize he’s making eyes with everyone else too?
I want to yell at her to have a little self-respect, but truthfully, she probably has more self-respect that most people I know. She’s a big flirt by nature.
After paying for our drinks, Lauren shimmies off the counter. “Are you having a good time?” she asks as she continues swaying to the beat.
“Yeah,” I respond, trying to sound brighter than I feel. “It’s fun watching you and Kiersten dance. She’s amazing out there,” I say, gesturing toward the dance floor.
We look over and sure enough Kiersten is taking advantage of all those moves she worked hard to perfect for all those years. She’s all tall and willowy and graceful. Pretty much every man on the dance floor has his eyes on her. Some guy is standing in front of her, gyrating to the music, when another comes up behind her, spins her around, and whisks her away. She doesn’t stick with one partner for too long, enjoying working the crowd instead.
It’s fun watching her dance. I never have that much rhythm.
Our drinks finally plop down in front of us, and Lauren blows a kiss to the bartender who winks back at her before moving to the next customer.
I grab my mojito, and just like I asked, the mint is mixed in, but he left it all on top to avoid any straw incidents. Now that’s the way to get a big tip from me.
Taking a sip, I get a renewed boost for the night.
“Come on.” Lauren grabs my hand. “Kiersten can’t be the only one who has all the fun.”
She pulls me into the crowd then grabs Kiersten, and before I know it, the three of us are dancing together. Judging by the looks on the guy’s faces around us, I’m not doing as bad as I thought. Or they’re all wearing beer goggles.
Neither way makes a difference to me. I begin swaying to the beat, really listening to the music, slowly shutting out the world around me. We’re just three women, out on the town, enjoying our time together. No pressure to find a man. Just time well spent.
I close my eyes and enjoy the bass, raising my arms in the air, careful not to spill my drink. Allowing the loose waves Lauren put in my hair to brush against my face, I feel free. I feel sexy. I don’t feel like the bland girl that’s the exact opposite of her exotic name. Dare I say I’m actually having fun?
And then, inevitably, I feel it. Sticky booze sliding down my leg and into my shoe after some drunk guy bumps into me and spills his drink on me.
“Oh shit. Sorry about that,” he says before dancing away, probably not even noticing the mess he left behind.
I grimace. There’s nothing like the feel of sticky booze in your high heel. I tap Lauren on the shoulder and gesture over mine, pointing to the bar where I’m going to clean myself up. She nods and turns back to Kiersten.
“Make good choices!” I yell, not that she heard me over the music.
Shrugging at her lack of response, I make my way through the crowd, trying not to let anything else spill. As soon as I’m free of the mob, I luck out and find an empty stool. I sidle right up to it, plopping my drink on the counter and leaning over to grab some napkins from behind the bar.
Yanking my skirt down—again—I try not to flash everyone as I bend over and wipe all the way down to my foot. This dress is pissing me off even more, now that my mood is souring. I barely register the guy who moves into the stool next to mine as I take off my shoe and clean the inside.
“Hey,” he initiates as I finally get the inside dry enough to be able to put it back on without making a squishing sound when I walk. Not that I want to wear it anymore. It’s still sticky, but I’d much rather that than walk barefoot on this nasty floor. “What happened?” He leans into me so I can hear him. Or maybe it’s to get close to me. I’m not sure which one it is, and I don’t really care. Still, there’s no reason for me to be rude.
“The normal club story. Dancing, drunk guy spills booze all over someone else. This time I’m the lucky recipient.”
He laughs. “Oh, that just sucks.”
I shrug and grab my drink back off the counter, taking a large sip through the straw, hoping the alcohol will help put me in a better mood again. “It happens.”
“I’m Ron, by the way.” He reaches his hand out for me to shake. This is why I don’t frequent places like this. I’m not looking for a hookup, but judging from the look on his face, he thinks he stands a chance. Part of me wants to blow him off, but we’re in the middle of a room full of people, and he hasn’t really said anything inappropriate. So I take his hand and shake it.
“Annika. Nice to meet you.” Grabbing the strawberry slice out of my drink, I take a bite and turn away, hoping he’ll get the hint. He doesn’t.
“Annika.” He smiles at me, and I put my guard up, waiting for it. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.
And there it is. The cheesy line I was waiting for.
“Thanks.” More drinking so I don’t have to talk to him.
“So Annika, did you come with your boyfriend or are you here by yourself?”
Giving up on ignoring him, I finish off my mojito and try a new tactic. “Nope. With my friends. They’re out there on the dance floor. We’re having a girls’ night. We’re keeping it all girls. No boys. No one-night stands. Just girls,” I ramble as I point to my friends.
He doesn’t seem to notice my babbling. “They look like they’re having a good time.”
“Yeah,” I say, suddenly feeling nauseous. I should have eaten before we left. Drinking on an empty stomach was dumb of me.
Putting my drink down, I yank my dress down one more time then put my hand to my forehead. All of the sudden I’m feeling clammy. Maybe I need some air. That must be it. Too much booze. Not enough food.
“Well, Ron, it was nice to meet you,” I say and begin to walk away.
“Where are you going?” he asks, following me.
“Oh, just over here.” I don’t know this guy, don’t know that I feel comfortable with him, but all I can think of is how much I really need to get out of here for a minute. How much did I have to drink?
Suddenly, my head seems like it’s floating away from my body. I look over to Lauren and Kiersten, but they don’t see me. They’re too busy dancing.
As I begin stumbling my way toward the door, an arm wraps around my waist. “Hey, are you okay?” Ron asks, and I think I hear concern in his voice. I must be worse than I thought.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I don’t feel very well. I think I might throw up.”
“You need some air,” he says.
Oh, thank goodness, I think, but all I can do is nod before things go fuzzy around me.
“Come on. There’s a side door right there. It’s quicker to get you outside this way.”
I nod again. And then everything goes black.