When Phei really sat with it—longer than two seconds, longer than the quick mental shrug he usually gave most things—it was fucking hilarious.
He'd never actually been to a club.
Not to dance much less to drink pretending he wasn't miserable while everyone else pretended they were having the time of their goddamn lives.
He'd been dragged to plenty of places in the last few weeks with Sierra and Maddie—restaurants where the menu didn't list prices because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford the oxygen inside, rooftop bars where the cocktails tasted like expensive sin and the city glittered below like it was putting on a private show just for them.
He'd fucked in bathrooms, because Maddie was a walking chaos gremlin who treated public indecency the way normal people treated brushing their teeth: routine, shameless, ideally twice a day and with zero remorse.
