Page 22 of At Your Door

Before I can speak up, a tiny window that I never noticed before slides open, and a pair of brown eyes stares back at me.

“What’s the password?”

My eyes widen, and if I wasn’t scared before, I sure as hell am now.

“Wha—”

“Bunny!” El interrupts me.

Within seconds, the window closes, and I hear the locks on the door unlatching.

“Bunny? You’re joking, right?”

My red flags stand straight up, but curiosity gets the best of me as the door finally opens, and I follow El inside.

It’s loud—like really, really loud. I’m still confused for a second because it’s pitch black, and my grip on her hand tightens. Then suddenly, velvet curtains are drawn back, revealing a sea of people.

But as I take my first few steps forward, I notice it’s not just people. It’s a sea of only women.

Left and right, everywhere I turn, all I see are beautiful women dancing on top of each other, making out, and drinking.

My mind can’t even register what I’m witnessing, so I lean forward and practically scream into El’s ear.

“Where are we?!”

She whips around in an instant, already laughing. “You don’t get it?”

All I can do is shake my head.

“It’s a gay bar!” El screams.

My eyes bulge out of their sockets. “What?!”

“Monica said it was Griffon’s pick! Let’s go try to find them!” El yells back before continuing forward.

Immediately, I scoff and shake my head.

Of course, I’m not even surprised. She probably did this as part of her own twisted little game. She knows what will knock me off my feet; it’s almost like she likes to push my limits and see me uncomfortable or scared.

If that was her goal, she’s 100% winning because it feels impossible to see the end as we make our way through the crowd. There are flashing lights everywhere, and the techno music definitely isn’t helping me find my sense of direction.

By the time we reach the bar, I feel like I’ve used every ounce of energy I had in me. My body practically drops onto a stool, and my feet silently thank me. Just as El grabs the seatnext to me, her attention is directed at a striking, tall blonde woman, giving her the ‘I’m interested’ eyes.

She doesn’t even move to sit down as she watches the woman tilt her head to motion for her to come over. I already know what El will ask when she turns back to face me. Immediately, I wave her off with a, “Go ahead, you bitch! Just text me!”

Still, I roll my eyes as El plants a kiss on my cheek before skipping away. Of course, my only friend ditched me within the first fifteen minutes.

I guess it will be up to me to find Griffon.

It doesn’t take long. I turn around in my swivel chair, scanning the crowd, and my gaze drifts upwards to the packed balcony overlooking the dance floor.

First, I spot Monica dancing, and then my eyes catch Lauren, who’s chilling at a private table with a group of girls, drink in hand. And dead center, standing at the railing, is Griffon, dressed in sneakers, cargo pants, and a graphic tee with ripped sleeves, exposing the minimalist tattoos that trickle down both of her arms. I probably would’ve found her quicker if she didn’t have that damn trucker hat on. But under all of these lights, the brim of her hat casts a shadow across her face, making her look even more mysterious than usual.

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring, leaning back with my elbows on the bar. But Griffon doesn’t look like she wants to stop, either. In fact, it feels like her eyes have always been on me. The entire time I’ve been here, meaning she watched me walk in, watched me look confused, watched me find out this was a gay bar, watched me get lost,andwatched me get ditched.

All while sitting up there with the most perfect view.

I can’t really see her eyes, but I can see her smirk. She’s satisfied with herself again.

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