Page 8 of Fall From Grace
Clearly, what I’ve been doing isn’t working. Maybe Sloane is right. Maybe I do need to get under somebody else.
Maybe I just need to do the damn thing already.
Chapter Five – Wren
Staring at myself in the mirror, I don’t even look like me. My long, brown hair is wavy thanks to Sloane’s careful styling, and my face wears a layer of makeup—again thanks to Sloane. My brown eyes have that smoky look, and my lips actually look full with some matte lipstick.
And my clothes? My clothes actually hug my body and show off my curves. Normally said curves are hidden beneath oversized t-shirts and hoodies that could fit someone double my size. I’m definitely not used to the tightness, that’s for sure. The fabric of the sparkly shirt Sloane loaned me clings to my body every time I inhale.
I wear black leggings and flats to complete the look. Literally, the only thing that’s mine are the flats. Everything else is borrowed from my roommate, who took it upon herself to style me for tonight’s impromptu clubbing.
Clubbing. I never thought I’d go clubbing. Heck, I didn’t even know about any of the clubs around here. Makes sense, since the area around a college campus is probably the best area to own clubs like that. Needless to say, I don’t tell my parents I’m going out. I can only imagine what they’d say if they knew their precious daughter was going to the clubs on a Wednesday night.
Sloane pops into my room, her hair and makeup completed. The girl looks killer, even more so than usual. She wears a tight dress that shows off her legs, and she grins at me, her lips wearing a bright red stain—something she can pull off.
“Look at you,” she purrs out. “Such a hottie. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble attracting guys tonight. Might have to get Elias to fend some off you.” Her boyfriend who, much to his chagrin, was being forced to come tonight, to keep watch over both me and Sloane.
I don’t think he’d ever let Sloane go to the clubs by herself, anyway, regardless of me being there.
I look back at myself in the mirror in the corner of my room. It’s just a cheap mirror, the kind that’s meant to hang on the back side of a door. I have it leaning against the wall, so it’s kind of at an awkward angle, but it serves its purpose all the same.
“I don’t know,” I say, running my hands down my sides. Already, my palms are sweaty. How bad am I going to be once in the club? Heck, I’ve never even been to a club before; the closest thing to a club I’ve been to is prom, and that obviously doesn’t count. “Are you sure you want to go out? Maybe we should just stay in—”
She crosses the length of my room and stands beside me, checking me out in the mirror with me. Her blond hair is a little shorter than mine, with the same kind of kinky waves, and her blue eyes look brighter than usual thanks to the makeup surrounding them. “Hell no. We’re going out. This kind of hotness you can’t contain to the house.” She gestures to us in the mirror, and I hear a grunt in the hallway—Elias responding to that comment.
Sloane glances over her shoulder and gives her boyfriend a grin, while I say, “It doesn’t sound like he wants to go.”
“He can kiss my ass. We’re going.” I’ve learned my roomie is not one to play nice, not even with her boyfriend—but I don’t think he minds, strangely, because anytime I see them in the same room together, they’re all over each other. They’ve been together for over a year and a half, and yet they act like they can’t get enough of each other.
Mike and I were never like that, and it makes me wonder if our whole relationship was just both of us pretending… and that makes me feel terrible.
“Are you ready?” she asks me.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, take myself in one last time, and then—even though it’s the last thing I want to do—I tell her, “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Elias drives us there even though it isn’t too far away. It’s just before ten, the world dark, and even though classes haven’t started yet, the nightlife is hopping. You can tell who’s local, who lives in houses around the campus and not in the dorms; those are the people who are out now, people like us. People having fun before next week and the fall semester begins.
I don’t know what to expect. This is all new to me. Honestly, I don’t know that I want to hook up with some random guy, but… I don’t know that Idon’twant to do that, either. I’m confused. I’m hurt. I feel like I’m not good enough, so why not try to have fun? What I’ve done in the past clearly didn’t work, so maybe it’s time to change courses.
What if I’m bad? What if I’m even more awkward than I usually am?
See, this is where being an overthinker is a detriment, although at this point in my life, I can’t say being an overthinker has ever been a good thing. I don’t think it’s ever helped me out. No, the only thing it’s given me is loads and loads of anxiety.
Since we’re under twenty-one, we get stamps on the back of our hands before we enter the club, so the bartender doesn’t sell us any alcohol. I imagine the stamps are easy enough to wash off, but maybe not. Maybe I’ll be scrubbing this stamp so hard off my skin tomorrow that I’ll rub the back of my hand raw.
We walk into the club, and instantly we’re hit with loud, pounding music. Seriously, the music is so loud that I can barely hear myself think. A group of people already dance near the speakers, where I imagine the music is even louder.
How on earth do they not have pounding headaches?
“Well?” Sloane stands next to me, giving me a smile. “What do you think?” She’s got to kind of yell the question so I can hear her over the music.
“It’s loud,” I say back.
“Yeah. That’s the point. Less talking, more dancing.” She takes me by the wrist and leads me closer to the dance floor, where she slips between a group of dancing girls, dragging me with her—and behind me, Elias follows, a glower on his face.
Sloane only lets me go once we’re in the middle of the throng of people, and she starts swaying her body with the fast beat. Elias naturally moves behind her, and his hands find her hips within seconds, pulling her backside closer to him as he wordlessly stakes his claim on his girl.
It’s… sweet, in a strange way, being so possessive of someone. Mike was never like that, although now I can’t help but wonder if he was never like that because he was never fully in the relationship to begin with. A terrible thing to think.
