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Chapter 2
I fucking loathe cabs.
The smell of sweat, the lack of decent suspension that sends you jolting around in your seat, and the annoying drivers that can’t take your silence as not wanting to hold a conversation with them. I’m nearly tempted to carry a pair of earplugs with me wherever I go as a precaution.
Normally I wouldn’t have agreed to shove myself into one of the tiny back seats with two other wide-shouldered hockey players, but when Matt wants to party, it leaves no other option. I’ve tried to fight him on it—and failed—more times than I can remember. Which is the only reason why I’m not lying in a tub of ice in an attempt to ease the ache coursing through my entire body right about now.
As I was finishing up a brutally physical practice this afternoon, Matt called me, and insisted I join him at the club that just opened up downtown. My first thought was fuck no, but it didn’t matter. And my teammates, being the boozehounds that they are, interrupted my phone call, and took the invite as their own, joining us without a second thought.
"You couldn't have called us a bigger cab?" I grumble, ignoring the sharp pain in my side as Matt’s elbow thrusts its way into my ribcage.
He waves me off, "We're almost there. Stop being a baby." "Stop elbowing me then," I growl and return the gesture, laughing when I hear Matt hiss in pain.
"I'm not trying! You did that one on purpose!"
One of my teammates, Connor, whips around to face us from the passenger seat, his charcoal eyes narrowed."Will you two shut up already? You're like a fucking married couple."
"Sorry," we mumbled begrudgingly.
"We're pulling up anyway," Connor’s partner in crime, Aidan, sighs from his spot on my left.
We all jump out as soon as the driver comes to a stop, and Connor reaches through the unrolled window to hand him a fifty. As the cab drives off, I take in the clusterfuck in front of me with a groan of defeat.
The dark red brick building is lit by the neon lights that shine brightly down on the long line of people. Two tall, well-built men stand in front of the double doors and the giant line as they shove the impatient—and most likely underage teenagers—away when they try to sneak around them.
Oh, those were the days. Sneaking into bars, carrying a fake with you at all times in case you needed to make a pit stop at the liquor store. We had a good time back then.
The rap music is thumping so loud, I can feel it pulsing through my legs as we walk across the concrete and towards the club. I follow Matt as he struts towards the front, completely cutting off the four girls next in line to enter the building. I can hear their frustrated scoffs as they're rudely cut off and can't help but smirk.
"Joey, my man! How goes it?" Matt roars, the excited greeting directed at the taller of the two bouncers. My eyebrows raise as I watch the intimidating guy break out in a huge grin and pull Matt in for a bro hug.
"Matty boy. Good to see ya, brother. Thanks for the tickets last week. My boys loved the game. The new Saints goalie is nowhere near as good as you, but what can you do?"
"Tell me about it," Matt boasts, his ego growing tenfold before my eyes. "Let me know when you wanna go again and I'll grab 'em for you."
"Thanks. Have a good time tonight, eh?" Joey says and pulls the door open for us.
"Always do," Matt teases, looking back at us with a smug smile, like he knows we're the tiniest bit grateful for what just happened. I shake my head and follow him inside Sinners Paradise.
It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the flashing lights bouncing from the metal bars on the ceiling. The thumping bass rolls through my body like a tidal wave as I fall into step with Matt. Despite it being a brand new club , it's not any different from the many I have been to before.
There are four bars set up throughout the building, each one stocked with liquor and the plastic cups that look alot like glass but don’t shatter when you drop them. The bartenders vary between the skimpily dressed female and the typical tool in khaki shorts on the hunt for a break time lay. An enormous dance floor sits dead smack in the centre of the room, completely covered by half-naked, sweaty bodies, and desperate men attempting to grind up on them. The guy who just walked by us masks the powerful stench of sweat, reeking of weed. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. Would it kill these people not to wear their drug habits?
"To the bar!" Matt roars in my ear before he disappears from view. Exhaling, I make my way to the bar, nearly falling back on my ass when a bloodshot-eyed brunette crashes into me, tripping over her foot. I swallow my annoyance and place my arms on her shoulders to steady her. Aidan and Connor are nowhere to be seen, which isn't that much of a surprise to me. They are probably already dancing with girls who are just as sloshed as the one who bumped into me.
I find Matt leaning on his forearms against the bar, waving his hands around like a total fuck. He spins around like a one-legged ballerina and sees me standing behind him. "Here, fuckhead." He pushes a tall rum and coke against my chest; the liquid sloshes against the lip of the glass and onto my black t-shirt. I bite my tongue and take the glass from him.
"Please don't be a pouty baby all night, I beg you. Would it kill you to have fun?" Matt’s voice is barely audible over the obnoxious rhythm of the techno music.
"Let me get drunk first. Go find the other two. I'm just going to stay over here for a bit." Slapping a hand down on his shoulder, I give him a gentle shrug. He looks like he wants to argue with me, but knowing it won't get him very far, he nods his head once and hurries off.
I love the guy, I do, but I'm more of the lone wolf type.
I turn back to the bar and down the drink in my hand before shoving through the line and ordering another one—or three. As soon as my fifth drink slides across the countertop and into the palm of my hand, I finally begin to feel a buzz spread through my body. I jolt in surprise when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Pushing myself away from the bar, I spin around. My eyes lock on a short, curly-haired brunette standing behind me, her hands folded awkwardly in front of her. Moving my eyes over her, I raise an eyebrow. "You need something?"
Her glasses slip down her thin, long nose. She quickly unfolds her hands and lets them fall to her sides, casting anxious looks around the crowded bar. I lean back with my elbows against the bar and watch, amused as the girl mouths words to her two friends as they stand to the side, waving their hands in my direction.
“Do you speak?” I tease her, grinning as a flush creeps across her cheeks. She turns her attention back on me, her eyes wide with panic. Her lips twitch slightly, and I know she has something to say. “I don’t bite. Not hard anyway.” I send her a wink and a mangled laugh crawls up my throat when she gets flustered again.
