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I lock eyes with him, playing his little game, and do as I’m told.
His eyes never leave mine, a laugh on the tip of his tongue as he pours the hot liquid down my throat. Once I’ve swallowed, he reaches up to swipe his thumb across my bottom lip to get the single drop that didn’t make it into my mouth.
“You’re a dick.” Mason groans playfully, and we can’t hold it in, both of us laughing.
“Okay, fucker, enough with the show.” Chase frowns, nodding toward the bottle. “Now pour us a shot so we can get out of here.”
Cam slyly slips a hand behind her back, and I meet her with mine for a secret high five, both of us facing forward, grins pulling at our lips.
Brady claps his hands together. “All right, y’all, to our first night out as legal drinking adults!” He grabs his shot and lifts it in the air. “Well, according to the badass fake IDs I got us anyway!”
“Woo!” Cam shouts.
We click our glasses together in cheers and down our liquor.
“Let’s roll, bitches!” Cam throws over her shoulder on her way to the door.
The four of us follow.
Brady spends the entire ten-minute drive going over the dos and don’ts of what to say and how to act when we pull out our fake IDs, but it turns out his worry is a waste.
The bouncer at the door lets us pass after Cameron smiled at him. She may have also asked him to check the zipper on the back of her dress, but hey, he’s happy to help.
The guys, however, did have to show their IDs, but the Tom Hardy look-alike didn’t blink twice at them, so they must seem legit. That, or he really doesn’t care.
The moment we’re past the threshold, Cam squeals, gripping my arm. “This place is awesome!” she shouts, already moving her body to the music.
The club is a giant circle with an open floor plan. Circular booths with white tables and chairs line the right and left side, with the bar stretching across the back wall. The lighting is dark with a blue tint, but not in a black light kind of way. More of an enchanted, frosty feel. The floor shines a metallic silver, adding to the illusion.
Cameron leads us to a booth near the bar and we sit to have a few drinks.
An hour and three Midori Sours later, my body’s humming and I’m ready to hit the dance floor. To be fair, us girls were ready as soon as we walked in, but the boys wanted to ‘scope out the scene’ first—overprotective brutes.
Contemplating my next move, I look around me. I’m blocked in the booth, Chase on my left, the others on my right, so there’s only one logical direction to go. Logical, but potentially problematic. The liquor in me doesn’t seem to care though, as my ass is lifting off the seat.
I move quickly before I can be stopped and before I chicken out, sliding my body across Chase’s, his every muscle locking up on contact. There isn’t much space between the tables and the seat tops, so the only way to get through the gap is to press my ass into his lap a little, so I do.
Instantly, his hands fly to my hips, and he swiftly pushes me by, carefully setting me on my feet beside the table, his eyes flying to Mason, just before he speaks.
“Could have asked him to move, Ari.” My brother’s glare burns into my cheek.
I ignore it. “As you can see, dear brother, there was no need. I’m standing, and now… I’m going to dance.”
Cam shrieks, quickly placing herself beside me. “Not without me, bitch!”
“Goddamn,” Brady draws out, causing all our heads to turn in the direction he’s drooling.
With a giant grin on his face, he nudges Mason’s shoulder. “Move it, brotha man.” Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, Brady points to the brunette leaning over the bar. “I gotta get over there.”
“You can’t even see her face from here.” Cam scrunches her nose.
“Dat ass, though,” he says, looking at me expectantly.
I smile wide, picking up what he’s putting down. “All that ass…”
“In them jeans,” Brady finishes on a laugh, raising his hand for a well-earned high five. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”
“Okay, Waka Flockas, let’s go.” Cameron rolls her eyes, pulling me toward the dance floor.
We wedge ourselves between a few groups of people, finding a nice, crowded spot near the center, and let loose.
“Girl, I’m feeling good right now!” Cam shouts over the music.
“Same!” I laugh. “That last drink snuck up on me.”
Ne-Yo’s “She Knows” begins to play through the speakers and we lock eyes.
“Aw shit,” we scream in drunken laughter, and then we go to work.
Swinging our hips, rotating our bodies to the beat, we soak up our very first night in a club.
