“Wow,” I manage.
The man checks his watch, then looks at us like we’re wasting his time. “Drinks are on the house. The bartenders know.”
He turns to leave, but Camilla grabs his arm. “Wait, why?” Her voice sharpens. “Why are we being let in early? And getting free drinks?”
He sighs. “Boss’s orders.”
Then he’s gone.
“That’s weird, right?” I ask.
Camilla squeezes my hand. “Probably. But hey, free drinks, hot crowd, you finally left your apartment. We’re not questioning the universe tonight.”
She tugs me toward the bar before I can overthink it. I lean close to be heard. “How do they even know who we are? How do they know we’re the ones getting free drinks?”
“Let’s just enjoy it. Lord knows we need it.” She smiles and rests her hand on my arm. “I’ll order. You stay here.”
She’s gone before I can answer. I glance around, overwhelmed by the lights and people, but she returns quickly with a tray of two colorful cocktails and a mess of shots.
I raise my eyebrows. “If you expect me to drink all that, I won’t last long. Do you know how long it’s been since I had more than one glass of anything?”
She scoffs. “Lightweight.”
We set the tray down and start slow, sipping the cocktails and knocking back a couple shots. The music rattles in my ribs. My head starts buzzing pleasantly.
As we head onto the dance floor, the DJ fades into “Alive” by Kx5, and the crowd explodes. Hands in the air. Bodies pressing closer.
I move my hips and take slow sips of my drink, letting the sound get under my skin. Camilla dances beside me, and a tall, muscular guy with tattoos and a buzz cut slips in behind her.
She glances back, shrugs, and keeps dancing. He is insanely hot. I’m happy for her.
Someone bumps my shoulder. I spill a little and turn around, already annoyed. A guy smiles down at me, and something about him makes my skin crawl.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he says, grinning like it’s charming. “Let me buy you another drink.”
“No thanks,” I mutter, turning away.
He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. The rancid stench of alcohol hits my face, and I nearly gag. It triggers something sharp and awful in the back of my brain, and I shake my head, trying to shut it down.
My hands shake, and I take a step back.
But he grabs my shoulders again and pulls me closer. “Come on, don’t be like that. I already got you a replacement.” He nods toward the bar. “Exact same thing you were having. Saw the bartender make it.”
“I just … I’m not interested.”
“What’s the problem? You’re here to have fun, right?” he says, too close now, his breath hot against my ear. “Just one drink with me. That’s all I’m asking. Then we’ll see where the night goes.”
Something about the way he keeps pushing the drink makes my skin crawl, the way he’s standing too close, blocking my path, the way he keeps touching me even when I pull away.
“I said no.” I try to turn away again.
His grip tightens—then suddenly he lets go, eyes wide.
I’m shoved aside, and a man steps in front of me and punches him so hard he hits the floor.
I take a few steps back, heart hammering. Someone must have seen us, decided two guys talking was wrong, and now they’re making an example out of us.
Blood pours from his nose. The man doesn’t stop. He bends down, grabs the guy by the shirt again, and drives his fist into his face. Once. Twice. The third punch makes a wet cracking sound, loud enough that I hear it over the music. The guy’s head snaps back against the floor, blood spattering everywhere.
