21
KATIE
I swing the car into a space directly opposite the nightclub doors and turn off the engine. The pulsating music and vibrant lights spill out onto the street, along with the laughter and chatter of the clubgoers shuffling into the smoking area.
I spent a good two hours overthinking what the hell I was supposed to wear tonight. After all, I’m just here to collect keys from Aiden; I should just be able to show up in my casual attire. But then again, the Orion is known for its dress code, and I didn’t want to risk being turned away at the door. If you can’t get in wearing runners, there wasn’t a hope in hell that I was getting in wearing a hoodie.
I was just going to toss on a pair of wedges, leggings, and a nice top, then I had a think about it. Aiden is the owner. Aiden is constantly surrounded by very beautiful, very fit women. Aiden is my boyfriend. And not only do I not want to come across as his frumpy, awkward-as-hell girlfriend, but I also don’t want to feel insecure about my appearance compared to the women inside.
I’m thirty-three; I have no business being in a feckin’ nightclub anymore. My clubbin’ days are well behind me. My ankles remind me of that in these heels as I try to remember how to walk in them. Stepping out of the car, I get in past the doormen in record time; thankfully, the lines have dwindled. The bass thumps through my chest as I step inside, immediately surrounded by half-drunk strangers dancing and laughing.
Ok, bouncer. Bar staff. That’s who Aiden told me to ask, so why can’t I seem to see a damn bouncer in this place?
Bar it is then if I can get at it.
I squeeze my way through the crowd, careful to avoid being wedged by any touchy strangers and wait for someone to notice me in the sea of faces. Thankfully, a barman, I put at about twenty-three, leans over the counter, waiting to hear my order.
“Is Aiden around?” I yell over the music, hoping he can hear me.
He gives me a confused look before shaking his head. “What?”
“Aiden? AJ…Quinn?” I don’t know what the hell they know him as. I’m grasping at straws here. “He told me to ask for him when I got here.”
He has the gall to look at me and give me the once-over. Cheeky bastard.
“AJ?” He repeats, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
“Yes, AJ! Tall, tattoos, permanent scowl on his face!” I hate people; I really do. Why are people idiots?
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then I see him tap his earpiece and say something to the person on the other end.
I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder, turning, I’m instantly met with a set of warm eyes. “Katie?”
“Cillian,” there is no hiding the look of surprise on my face. “What are you doing here?”
“Stags weekend,” he replies with a smirk. I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over me. “You’re looking well.”
I look like I’m about to shove this stiletto down that barman’s throat. Stupid prick.
“Thanks.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks, I’m just waiting on someone.”
“You’re on a date in a nightclub?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.
“I am in me bollocks!” Chewing my lower lip, I glance back at the barman, who has now made it his business to avoid me like the plague and disappear to the other end of the bar.
Thanks for nothing, arsehole!
“With friends, then?” Cillian smirks, leaning over me, when another bartender decides he is the lucky one in the swarming crowd to be served. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No thanks, I’m fine!”
Stupid Aiden. Stupid Dublin. Stupid fucking nightclub. I should be at home reading with my piggies!
Ushering me away from the crowd of impatient patrons, Cillian leads me towards a quieter corner. I ignore the cheers from whom I can only assume are his friends, the ones chanting “Get stuck in!” As Cillian and I make a beeline to the staircase opposite the dance floor.
