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He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“There’s always a first time for everything.”
Betty eyes me over his head, ready to open her mouth, but I shake my head at her. There is a first time for everything, and my first time has been and gone.
Noah doesn’t know that.
Nor does he need to.
While my overprotective best friend wants the best for me, knowing who I gave my virginity to would probably give him a premature heart attack. Most people assume Noah and I are together, and it’s worked in both of our favours over the years.
I’m not interested in dating, and he has his own secrets to keep, so we let people guess and don’t correct them when their assumptions are wrong.
“Taxi will be here in five,” Betty says, throwing a clutch at me before grabbing her own. I rush back into my room, slipping my feet into my Docs and grabbing my phone and some cash to shove into the bag.
She shoves two glasses into my hand, and I down them both quickly, swallowing the gag that follows before we wave goodbye to Noah and slip out into the hallway. Thankfully, the other three doors are closed, so we avoid any awkward encounters on our way down to the reception.
Heads turn to look at us as we pass, but thanks to the alcohol working its way through my system, I don’t pay them any mind and walk with my head held high to where the taxi waits for us.
“Where are we going?” I ask her when she gives the driver the name of a church as our destination.
“Apparently, an old church was converted into a party spot for the students a few years back.” She shrugs, sliding her dress up to reveal a flask she’s strapped to her thigh. “Gage told me about it, and it sounds pretty cool, so I figured we could check it out.”
“And we started hanging out where your stepbrother does, when?”
“Since now,” she tells me, pushing the flask into my waiting hand. “Anyway, he’s not even going to be there. The guys have a fight or something tonight, so we’re good.”
I barely hold back a groan when she says the guys. While I don’t mind Gage too much, or even Kyle most of the time, the third member of their merry band of dickheads isn’t someone I’m willing to put much effort into thinking about.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
The ride over only takes about ten minutes, and when we step out of the car, I do a double take at the building in front of us.
“This place is weird, dude,” I say to Betty when we reach the car park outside. Wrapping my arms around myself, I fight off the bitter chill. “It’s bloody cold too.”
She laughs, linking her arm through mine. “You just need to get your beer jacket on. Come on.”
Dragging me along with her, she pushes through a group of girls standing in the doorway, ignoring the glares they pin at us. I send them a small smile of apology, though, they don’t seem to care, especially the brown-haired girl who snarls in our direction as we pass.
Okay, rude.
Maybe it’s childish, but I flip her the bird anyway. I’m not usually confrontational, but I’ve had enough of little bitches over the last few years. I refuse to allow the same shit that plagued me in school to happen here too.
“Right, drinks and then we dance,” Betty yells over the drum and bass music blasting through the speakers on the wall. I follow her towards a drinks table set up in the far corner. I flick my gaze over the room, and that same feeling of unease takes over me.
The interior is haunting.
What once upon a time would have been opulent and grand, is now worn down and tired. Stained glass windows are covered in cracks and cobwebs. Once-golden candle holders are now rusted and bent, barely standing. The pews where churchgoers would have sat and prayed are broken and thrown haphazardly against the walls to make room for a wide dance floor where the kids can get down and dirty.
Betty passes a plastic cup to me before lifting her own to her mouth. Without hesitation, I pour the clear liquid down my throat. I don’t know what was in the cup, and I doubt I want to as it threatens to come back up.
We move onto the dance floor, and I let the music and haze of the wine and liquor we’ve already drank tonight control my body. My hips sway with the music, and my arms feel weightless as I let them move around above my head.
I probably look like a tit, but I don’t care. There’s nothing better than letting go in a room full of others who are too drunk to care about what you’re doing or what you look like. Betty hands me another drink, and we spend the next hour alternating between moving on the dancefloor and drowning ourselves in booze.
When two hands fall onto my waist from behind, I don’t hesitate to move my body in line with the large one enveloping me. Heat radiates from the hard chest behind me, but I don’t turn around. There’s something exciting about dancing with a faceless man; or at least I’m presuming they’re a man based on the large, calloused fingers running across my waist and travelling towards my thighs.
I arch my back and gasp when I feel something hard pressing into me. Normally that would have me running out of the room as soon as possible. Yet, with my body responding to him in the way it is, I don’t.
