just brush it and then call it a day because who’s going to judge me? The pizza delivery guy? But this time, I actually straighten it and give it some lift, and then I do my makeup.
I hardly recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I honestly kind of want to go back in time to the bar and ask Tall, Dark, and Handsome what the hell he was thinking hooking up with me then. I actually look nice right now, instead of pale and overworked with limp hair.
Well, however I looked a few days ago, I look good at the moment, and I’m going to go out and make the most of it. I have enough money to splurge on a couple drinks, so I can spoil myself a little.
I take a cab to a club called Verve in downtown Portland. A few heads turn to watch me as I walk up the steps, which is a nice confidence booster. Even the bouncer eyes me up and down as he pulls the rope aside and lets me enter.
The thing I’d forgotten about clubs is that they’re goddamn loud. And they honestly don’t smell so great, between the spilled alcohol and the sweaty bodies and the fog machines and the sex. But something thrills in my stomach as I enter, just because I’m actually here. I’m doing something, veering away from my usual routine, and it’s a little exciting.
I don’t know anyone in the club tonight, obviously, so I just make my way to the bar. A quick drink’ll give me enough courage to go out onto the dance floor. As I wait for the bartender to notice me, I scan the crowd. I’m not seeing anyone I’m too interested in approaching. Nobody here is as hot as those three guys the other night, or the man I hooked up with in the alley.
Damn it, why am I still thinking about him? Or them?
Men are a dime a dozen, and I’m not the type of girl to get ridiculously hooked on a guy. Especially not after a one-night stand or just a few glances across the bar.
The bartender finally turns my way, and I place my order. She nods and gets to work. I’m not seeing any women around that look nice enough for me to buddy up with. If only there was another girl who looked as lost as I feel, I could go over to her, but all I’m seeing are tight knit groups of friends, and I don’t want to get in on that. I’m not that good with people.
The bartender passes me my drink, and I pay and tip her. Then I turn around—
Only to get slammed into by some idiot.
“Watch it!” I yell. My drink’s sloshed all over my clothes. Fuck. I’m going to smell like booze all night now. No way is anyone going to want to dance with me when I look and smell like this.
Darn it. I got all dressed up and everything. Double fuck.
“Sorry,” the guy mumbles.
I grab some napkins and a glass of water from the bartender and rush outside. There’s always a massive line for the bathrooms in clubs, and under a streetlight, I can properly see what I need to wipe up.
Ugh, it really did get all over my top, and my pants. It’s a good thing the pants are black or it would probably look like I peed myself. Shit.
I wet the napkins with the water and start cleaning off my clothes as I silently debate with myself. I’m not sure if it’s worth it to go back in after this. Just five minutes in the place and the night’s already a disaster. But I got all dressed up and walked all the way over here…
“Watch it, asshole!”
“I’m the asshole? You piece of shit!”
Two men stumble into me and I yelp in surprise, dropping the water glass. “Damn it!”
It shatters, and glass goes everywhere. I stumble back to try to avoid it, nearly falling in my heels.
The men don’t even notice me. They’re both yelling at the top of their lungs, something about one of them stealing the other one’s girl—typical jock-boy bullshit. But as I try to regain my footing, I end up in between them somehow. I grab one guy’s shirt for balance, but the other one’s already moving, aiming a fist for his buddy’s face—
The punch to my temple sends me reeling.
I see stars, and my ears ring like an alarm. I got