I chew the inside of my cheek. Part of me wants to say no, wants to stay here with Clover and my laptop where it’s safe. But safe hasn’t been working out great for me lately. The break-in was proof enough.
“When’s the last time you even went out?” Camilla asks.
“I don’t know. Almost three years, maybe? Before everything fell apart.”
“Exactly. You need this, we both do.”
“Screw it. Why not.”
She jumps off the bed and rattles off outfit ideas and places we can go while I just sit there and smile at her enthusiasm.
I search for my favorite T-shirt. But I come up empty. I could’ve sworn I washed it last week, but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. It would go perfectly with the outfit I was planning.
I scratch my head and let out a sigh.
“Is there something wrong?” Camilla asks from behind me.
“Nah, just can’t find something. It’s fine, you can pick my outfit.”
She squeals and shoves me out of the way so she can dig through my closet. I huff and sit on the bed, scratching my neck.
It’s probably a good idea for me to go outside anyway. Clear my head. My brain’s been all over the place lately, and maybe getting out will help. Or at least distract me from spiraling about missing laundry and everything else that’s been going wrong.
Chapter 4
Kelly
It took us an hour to get ready, and by the time we made it to the club, it was already close to ten. We’re somewhere in the middle of a long line outside a recently opened place called Ozero.
It’s supposed to be wildly popular right now, and it shows. The line stretches forever. I almost regret my choices and consider walking home and going to sleep already.
It’s cold as hell outside. I feel very overdressed in the clothes Camilla picked out for me. Gray chinos, black shoes, and a cream-colored linen shirt with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows.
It’s been so long since I went out, I don’t even know what people wear to clubs anymore. Camilla said I looked hot though, so I’m trying to believe her.
Someone in a fancy suit steps out of the entrance and walks down the line. He stops right in front of us, like he’s been looking for us.
“You two. Come with me.”
We glance at each other and then around us.
“Us?” I ask, pointing at my chest like an idiot.
“Yes. Follow me.”
Camilla shrugs, and we follow. Groans ripple through the line behind us. We were only out there ten minutes, and some of these people look like they’ve been waiting forever. I feel like a complete asshole.
Inside, I stop short. This place is nothing like I expected.
The club is massive. Dark wood panels line the walls, glowing warmly under LED strips tucked along the floor.
The whole space pulses with soft light and bass, packed wall to wall with bodies and movement. Music shakes the air like a second heartbeat. Toward the back, the dance floor dips into a sunken pit, lights flashing in sync with the DJ standing above it on a raised stage.
The bar stretches long and polished, backlit shelves stacked high with every bottle imaginable. At least four bartenders move nonstop, sliding drinks across to people shouting orders over the noise.
To the right, a staircase leads up to a VIP level. A man in a black suit stands at its base, arms crossed, scanning the crowd.
This is way fancier than anywhere I’ve been, and I already feel out of place.
