9. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
My Lively Sister Led Me to Him
Kaden
“T ell me again why I let you convince me to come tonight?” I sigh heavily at Lanie.
“Because you love me and know we’ll have a good time, even if you insist you’re not here to find your lobster.” She thinks if she says it enough it will come true.
Faith, Lanie’s favorite human aside from me, giggles as if finding my soulmate hasn’t been their focus for the past couple of months. I swear they have a bet going to see how long it will take or something.
“Did you really need to wear that shirt?” I ask again, she ignored me the first time, while we wait in line to get into the building. The party is being held in this big nightclub in the city. Waiting in line this long makes my legs feel like I’m on my morning run.
“Listen, if I don’t tell all the men here that you’re my brother, neither of us will be kissing any of them by the end of the night. It’s easier this way.” Twirling around like a Ballerina in her one-shoulder top and flowing mini skirt, acting like it’s not 40o outside. How is she not freezing?
She knows I’ll be glued to her side, as usual, so making a shirt that says ‘He’s Just My Brother, You Can Hit on Us’ will get us some laughs at the least. She is so carefree, not giving a damn what people think of her. I want to be her when I grow up.
When we get to the admission counter, we are asked for our name, age, occupation, and sexual orientation. Apparently, our information goes on a digital list that is put in kiosks stationed around the bars where we can look each other up with numbers from our name tags. I feel like I’m at Sheetz ordering some road trip munchies. Who the hell comes up with this shit?
Once we’re inside, Lanie and Faith beeline to the bar for drinks. I follow suit knowing having a few drinks is the only way I’ll survive this night. There’s already what feels like a hundred people here, which is about ninety-five strangers more than I can manage at once.
The club is a huge room with high ceilings and a big dance floor in the middle. On either side of the dance floor are two long bars with at least three bartenders working each. In the back of the room are a little more than a dozen high-top tables on a raised platform overlooking the dance floor.
“I’m ordering shots!” Lanie decides for all of us, like we could argue with her if we tried. For a 5’3”, vertically challenged girl with light blue eyes and mousy brown hair, you would think she’d be less bossy. At 25 years old, she can persuade me to do almost anything, despite me being three years older.
Lanie, of course, picks Tequila because why not? We do the Tequila ritual; salt on the one hand holding the lime, shot glass in the other. “To a night of laughing, dancing, and maybe a little smashing,” she yells as we clink our shot glasses before licking the salt, downing the fiery liquid from hell and shoving the lime in our mouths. I don’t have time to recover from the fire ignited in my throat before she’s ordering another round, but this time she asks the bartender to make them doubles for each of us. I don’t know whether to be happy to let loose and have fun tonight or dread the hangover we will have tomorrow.
Thankfully, after the second round, Faith pulled us both out to the dance floor. I’m not the best dancer, but I can hold my own and at least I can get lost in the crowd where no one is paying attention.
The three of us must be a sight to see, wildly dancing like we don’t have a care in the world. The music is a perfect mix of songs from the early 2000s to current hits. One minute we’re dancing to ‘Work It’ by Missy, the next we’re jumping around to ‘Stay’ by The Kid Laroi.
It’s much easier when I can pretend it’s only us and the music. Until Lanie throws her head back and screeches, “Bathroooooom!” at the top of her lungs. We all head to the restrooms, Faith and Lanie holding hands through the crowd to not lose each other. There’s no line when they get to the ladies’ room.
I continue farther down the hall to the men’s room, glad to see no line here either. Walking in, I am surprised to see the long line of both urinals and stalls. No wonder we didn’t have to wait.
I finish breaking the seal and washing my hands quickly, hoping I didn’t miss Lanie and Faith leaving the ladies’ room. The last thing I want to do is wander around searching for them by myself.
Of course, I make it out there faster than them. I swear women have their own parties in the bathroom that it takes them double the time. I am only waiting a few minutes until they come barreling out the door, laughing and ready to head back to the bar.
We only get halfway there when Lanie spots someone and does a double take. Stopping next to a group of three guys, she leans close to one of the taller ones with neatly styled jet-black hair, a chiseled jaw, and the goofiest smile waiting to see what she is doing. She memorizes the 4-digit number on his name tag, looks up to smile at him, and saunters away like she was lazily browsing at the grocery store. The confidence that oozes out of her, it’s inspiring.
I take a quick glance at the other two guys instead of following her to the bar. The shorter one of the three is about my height at 6’ tall, average looking, but still attractive. He has a strange look on his face though, watching my sister and Faith walk away. The third guy is nearly identical to Lanie’s eye-catcher, except his hair is shaved short on the sides but the top hangs low enough to make you want to reach up and sweep it away from those eyes that feel like they’re burning right through my own. I break the stare first to avoid looking like a creeper.
Dear Goddesses, please let him be queer.