And beneath him, screaming and moaning in my place, was Clarissa. My best friend for over ten years.
The air stopped flowing. Every nerve ending in my body froze, locking me in a silent horror movie. I wasn't a confrontational person. I didn't scream or react loudly- I just stood there, a spectator to the demolition of my life.
They were too drunk in their ecstasy to notice me. My vision blurred with immediate scalding tears, and I did the only thing I could... I turned and fled.
I grabbed my car keys and drove off blindly, ending on Sana's doorstep and dumping the whole ugly mess onto her.
She was all empathy and outrage. Then she suggested her wildcard solution.
The bass vibrated through the floor and up my spine. The club Sana had brought me to was filled with drunk strangers dancing and grinding away their weekday misery.
"Girl, you have to let loose!" Sana yelled over the music.
I hated it. I was heartbroken and I needed to heal, I wasn't a party girl wanting to get high.
My ex and my ex-best friend's betrayal was just hours old, and her idea was to get me drunk.
She shook me out of my thoughts, leaning close.
"There's this hot dude staring at you." She hissed, gesturing toward the exclusive velvet rope of the VIP section.
I followed her gaze and froze.
He wasn't just hot. He looked like a Greek god carved from cool marble with a sharp jawline that genuinely looked like it could slice through steel.
His full lips, made more alluring by a neatly trimmed beard, contrasted with his hazel-green eyes.
They were fixed on me, boring into my soul until I felt dangerously naked even though I was fully clothed.
He lifted his hand, a causal beckoning gesture. I scoffed. He seemed arrogant.
"I'm not interested." I mumbled to Sana.
She rolled her eyes.
"Girl, I'm not asking you to fall in love. Just get laid. Get that asshole off your mind for a bit."
A part of me agreed. Why not? What did I have left to lose? My heart was already beaten to a pulp.
Choosing to be a little bit reckless, I finally got to my feet and joined him.
Up close, he was devastating. Tall, imposing, and exuding an aura of expensive danger.
"Hi." I managed, a wave of unfamiliar shyness washing over me.
"I'm Tessa."
His eyes held mine a moment longer than necessary.
"Nice to meet you, Tessa."
The sound of my name, a low smooth drawl in his deep baritone floated into my ears, untracing me immediately.
He offered me a drink. I hesitated, I knew better than to take a drink from a stranger, but something about him just made me lose every form of security consciousness.
From then on, it was a basket of bad decisions. I took one drink, then two, then shots of vodka until I completely lost count of them.
I was drunk in no time, and so was he.
When we finally kissed, it felt electric. Maybe it was the liquor, but for the first time ever, I felt a genuine rush, a shower of sparks and butterflies when his lips met mine.
It started slow, then deepened into something urgent, something desperate.
"Let's get out of here." He whispered against my mouth, his breath hot.
I simply giggled, barely able to see his face, and agreed.
So many things happened after I followed that beautiful stranger out of the club.
It was fun. There was pleasure. It was utter glorious chaos.
And somewhere at the back of my mind, a tiny voice warned me I would probably regret this impulsive turn.
But I chose to let loose for once in my life. If only I knew the scale of what my choice would lead to, I would have probably chosen a different path.
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I woke up to a head that felt three sizes too big and a hangover that was actively punishing my life choices.
Squinting against the low light, I realized I was in a hotel room.
I was naked, tightly wrapped in a crisp blanket, and my legs aching with a deep satisfying soreness.
"Shit." I hissed under my breath, the realization of my previous night crashing down.
Flashes of him...his hands, his body, my moans, brought a wave of embarrassment.
It was a blessing I'd never see him again. I had confessed way too much about my sex-starved life to a man I didn't even know his name.
I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table. It was intact, but resting on top of a neat stack of hundred-dollar bills was a business card.
I frowned, an intense anger replacing the hangover shame. Did he think I was a prostitute?
I didn't take anything but my phone and purse as I dressed up and checked out of the hotel.
The staff could do whatever they wanted with the money.