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Maybe I’ll stop by and make sure that she gets home alright.
Maybe I’ll just stop by.
CHAPTERTHREE
Itry to let the music pep me up, but all I feel is sadness.
I never expected to miss my old life so much, but the more I think about marrying Ben, the more I realize nothingwill never be the same.
“Come on, Nella!” My best and only friend, Etta, wraps her arm around my shoulders and slams down a shot glass in front of me.
Her short coppery hair is spiked out at the ends, making her look more fairylike than usual. Glitter is caked around her eyes, catching the flashing lights every so often.
“This is your last night of freedom,” she yells at me. “We need to go all out!”
I try to smile at her, wanting to wrap myself up in her excitement.
Etta’s been trying to make me feel better for weeks. Shealwaystries to make me feel better, even when she has no idea why I’ve been moping around. She’s the only friend that has stuck around after college. It seemed right to let her in on who I was—who my family was.
She’s never judged me and is always there for me. Even through the worst times, like tonight. While I normally love the idea of partying with her, I am way too depressed to be feeling any sort of merriment. Regardless, I pick up the shot and throw it back. Maybe if I drown myself in tequila, I’ll stop feeling… well, everything.
That would be great.
Etta and I downshot after shot. Each one makes my head feel dizzier and dizzier. The club's lights flash in technicolor spirals that make me sick to my stomach. I put my hand over my belly and grimace.
All around us, people crowd the bar, shouting for drinks. Their hands are outstretched with wads of cash. It made me snort to myself, glad that we’d gotten here before the new twenty-one-year-olds.
“I can’t believe you’re marrying him!” Etta shouts at me over the music and shakes her head.
“Don’t remind me!” I shout back, as if it hadn’t already crossed my mind a thousand times since getting up this morning.
“Did he really try and pretend like he didn’t do coke on your first date?”
“Yes!” I screamed, still outraged by the fact that this grown man couldn’t even let me order my own meal. “He told me I’m fat!”
“Asshole!”
“I know!”
Etta bumps my shoulder a few times, gesturing to the bartender’s outstretched hand.
“For you. From the gentleman over there.”
I take the glass—a porn star martini, my favorite—and turn to look over my shoulder. But there are so many people, it’s really hard to tell who the bartender was taking about.
I tip my drink up, raising it so that whoever sent it to me could see my appreciation. Stupidly, I tip the entire thing back into my mouth, dumping half of it over my face and the other half down my throat, choking me.
I cough, slamming the glass down onto the bar and heave in a few deep breaths.
Etta gasps. “You okay, girl?”
“Yeah,” I wave her off, feeling my stomach roll uncomfortably again. “Need some air.”
I slide off my stool and make my way over to the backdoor. The booze was definitely in my system now, making the entire world spin as I walk and making me want to throw up.
I pick up my pace.
I push the door open and stumble out into the fresh air, steadying myself against the brick wall. The world spins, making it difficult to know where the ground is. Vaguely, I hear the door open again.
