The so-called friend of Alex wasn't in the car. Only Alex himself, skillfully handling the wheel, and Vicky sitting beside him, gazing at her boyfriend with admiration. I settled into the back seat. Staring out the tinted window, I watched trees, houses, and even people returning late from work flash past my eyes. Despite the approaching night, the city was still quietly alive.
"Michael's waiting for us at the club," apparently that was the guy Smith had been so eager to introduce me to. "He's cool. You'll like Mike."
I didn't answer, and hardly paid any attention to Victoria's words. Getting to know someone new wasn't in my plans for the near future—let alone anything more. Well, fine. I'd meet this Michael. Only because Smith had practically dragged me out of the house. Though I had no doubt that if I'd kept stubbornly refusing, she would've simply told Alex to throw me over his shoulder and carry me out by force.
"Why so gloomy, Redhead?" Vicky's boyfriend addressed me casually, glancing at my sullen face in the rearview mirror.
"I'm not your Redhead," I snapped back, as usual in our conversations, wrapping myself tighter in my leather jacket despite the warmth inside the car. Victoria burst out laughing and jumped in,
"Come on, Loly. Stop looking so glum. We're going to have fun."
The car braked sharply, and I practically jumped at the sudden stop.
The neon sign above the wide double-door entrance blinked brighter and brighter each second, as if drilling the club's name into everyone's mind: Bloody Dawn. I winced as a sudden chill ran down my spine when the car door opened. Two bulky men in classic suits stood at the entrance, intimidating just by their appearance.
"Vicky, are they even going to let us in?" I gripped my friend's arm tightly, casting a wary glance at the guards.
"Don't worry, Alex will handle it," Smith reassured me, patting my shoulder—then cursed loudly when her hand hit the metal studs there. We stood aside, watching as her boyfriend exchanged a few words with the bulky men. One of the guards burst into loud laughter, flashing the gap where a tooth was missing, then raised his thumb and nodded toward the entrance. Turning to us, Alex waved us over, and we, naturally, let out triumphant cheers and headed toward the door.
What did I feel the moment my foot crossed the threshold of the enormous club hall? Excitement. Pure excitement. The lighting was dim, and the bright flashes of neon lights made me flinch at first, but I quickly got used to them. Heated bodies filled the massive space, moving to the rhythm of the music. Energy practically radiated from the crowd, and that same energy seemed to flow into me, making me relax and let myself go completely.
"Why have I never been here before?!" I tried to shout over the impossibly loud music, the beat of which seemed to pulse right in my stomach.
"Because you don't know how to have fun," Vicky replied bluntly, grabbing my hand and pulling me deeper into the dancing crowd. Before I could protest or free myself from her tight grip, we ended up by the bar counter stretching along the hall. Two bartenders—one on each side—skillfully handled bottles and glasses filled with all kinds of alcohol, putting on real performances, juggling them like professionals. I stared at the spectacle in amazement until Smith suddenly exclaimed excitedly:
"Mike!"
Yeah… disaster crept up quietly and unexpectedly. Very quietly.
"And this is my friend," Victoria pulled me closer, introducing me to the guy lounging casually at the table. His piercing brown eyes scanned me from head to toe in an instant, making me want to grimace. "Lily."
"Very beautiful name," the guy—my new acquaintance—smiled charmingly, slightly lifting an eyebrow. "I'm Michael."
"Nice to meet you," I forced a polite smile, extending my hand. He took it and, like a true gentleman, gently kissed it. Well, he certainly knew how to make an impression. Throwing something else in our direction, Smith quietly slipped away, leaving us alone. Well, figuratively speaking. I, meanwhile, took a seat on the empty chair next to the so-called Michael.
"A cocktail?" my new acquaintance offered, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously while studying me carefully.
"I suppose," I agreed uncertainly. "Something non-alcoholic."
The young man's laugh seemed to momentarily drown out the loud music in the hall.
"Oh, come on," he said casually, brushing my hand with his. "We're at a club, Lily. No need to be shy."
Then, briefly distracted, Mike placed an order with the bartender. Two mojitos, from what I managed to catch. Well, mojito it is. Wait. Isn't there rum in that?
I took a heavy breath, clearly realizing I could've ended up in better company.
Having turned around, I scanned the crowd, looking at everyone and no one at the same time. Unfamiliar faces flickered before my eyes. Here, in one of the city's most prestigious clubs, completely different kinds of people had gathered: confident individuals moving smoothly to the rhythm of the music; insecure teenagers who were probably here for the first time but still wanted to have fun and, at least for a moment, escape the problems surrounding them; and the most reserved ones, who clearly felt out of place and had most likely been dragged here by their reckless friends in hopes that they might finally loosen up.
Suddenly, my gaze stopped on one of the many people present. The guy's features seemed so familiar, as if I had seen him somewhere before. And the next moment, realization hit me like someone had struck me hard over the head.
"No way…" I whispered in astonishment, recognizing our beloved biology teacher in the rather attractive young man my eyes had locked onto, my quiet words dissolving into the loud rhythm of the music.
Collin's face was clean-shaven, the stubble gone, and now he hardly looked older than nineteen—maybe even younger. He really could've passed for an eleventh grader, and anyone who didn't know he was a teacher would've thought the same. And how old was he actually? Twenty-seven. Scott had found that out the very same day he was introduced to us. I didn't even want to know how.
The teacher was standing with his own group, which I didn't particularly care about. He laughed briefly, smiled, revealing attractive dimples I was noticing for the first time.
"Did you spot someone you know?" I had completely forgotten about Michael while staring so intently. Damn.
"No, no," I shook my head, turning back to him just as he handed me my mojito. "Thanks."
A strange, undefined desire stirred inside me, a feeling I immediately wanted to give in to.
Was I going to let loose tonight?
Definitely.
I didn't keep track of how many cocktails I had that night, but judging by my not-exactly sober state, it was a lot. Mojito, Americano, Mimosa, Kir — and those were only the ones I remembered. Michael, apparently, had made it his goal to get me properly drunk. And he was succeeding. I forgot myself — truly forgot. About all the problems, about all the crap that was still present in my life.
As it turned out, the club also had a second floor, reached by a staircase tucked into one corner of the massive hall. And up there, it was honestly charming. You'd think there was another huge dance floor on the second level? Not at all. They did tattoos there. Any kind you wanted. Real tattoos, glitter tattoos, or henna. There was special equipment, glass shelves filled with sketch designs, and comfortable chairs where people sat to decorate their skin with something unusual. I didn't have a chance to look around properly, though — Mike pulled me back downstairs.
"Want to get some fresh air?" Michael mumbled drunkenly, downing another cocktail and biting into the lime decorating the glass. Without waiting for my answer, he grabbed my hand tightly and dragged me somewhere.
I don't remember how we pushed through the massive crowd swaying to the music, but the fresh air that suddenly hit my face when I stepped onto the empty, dark street sobered me up a little. It was freezing — even the guards preferred standing inside near the entrance. And it was only early autumn. I wrapped my leather jacket tighter around myself, though it now felt like a thin rag that couldn't warm me at all.
Suddenly, something crashed loudly. When I turned around, I only saw the shards of the glass Mike had smashed out of boredom.
"Wonderful," he drawled, clearly not sober, even stumbling over the word.
"Let's go back," the darkness unnerved me, the eerie silence surrounding the club outside made me want to go inside, hide in the warmth, and never come back out again. But my new acquaintance had other plans. The next moment, he stopped me, sharply pulling me toward him by the sleeve of my leather jacket.
"No, let's stay here," the guy flashed a wide smile, revealing perfectly straight teeth. But that bright smile — and the strange spark that ignited in his eyes — stirred a growing sense of unease inside me.
"Stop," I tried to pull free from his tight grip, but Michael was much stronger than me. My resistance seemed to irritate him, because the next moment he shoved me hard to the side, sending me crashing into the brick wall of the building and painfully hitting my head. Not thinking about any consequences, heavily intoxicated, Mike pressed his lips against mine, trapping them in a forceful, heated kiss. Under the influence of alcohol, my strength slowly faded, leaving me unable to push him away.
"Get off!" I tried desperately to break the kiss, but he wouldn't let me. Holding me firmly, capturing my lips, he forced his tongue into my mouth, triggering a wave of nausea. My body weakened in his tight grasp, and I was slowly going limp, no longer able to fight, when suddenly someone shoved him away from me. Sharply. Suddenly. Decisively.
My legs gave out, and I slowly slid down the wall, barely staying conscious.
"Have you completely lost your mind?!" Michael slurred, swaying from side to side, trying to stay on his feet.
"Leave the girl alone." The voice was rough, commanding — and it worked instantly. After muttering curses, Michael staggered away, apparently realizing what he had done. A moment later, someone helped me up, placing my arm over his shoulder to keep me steady.
"Mr. Collins…" I smiled faintly, my eyes barely open, silently thanking every god in existence that he had appeared at just the right moment. "Do we… have extra lessons today?"
I was drunk, barely aware of what I was saying. I would definitely be embarrassed about this tomorrow — if I remembered.
"Oh, Stryker… how did you even end up here?" But I no longer heard the biology teacher's words. Something rose suddenly in my throat, and the next moment the alcohol I had consumed that night came rushing out onto the asphalt.
Relief spread through me instantly, as if I had been carrying some heavy burden all evening and it had finally slipped from my shoulders. Then everything blurred before my eyes, turning into a hazy swirl. I squeezed my eyes shut, losing my balance.
But at the last moment, someone caught me.
And that was the last thing I remembered from that truly insane night.