Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
BAILEY - BEFORE
Heat is the perfect name for this place.
I’m already sweating. Techno pounds from the DJ booth matching the pulsing in my head, as we snake our way through swaying bodies toward the bar.
The lights are dim, apart from colored spotlights pointed at the booth, but I still narrow my eyes to help the pain.
Come on, Advil, do your thing.
One glance at Layne practically bouncing in front of me helps to cheer me up a bit, but I’d still pay every dollar I have to be anywhere else. “Come on!” she yells over the music. “Drinks!”
A couple holding hands walks directly in front of me, cutting me off from Layne as I tell her, “I shouldn’t.”
She either doesn’t hear me, or doesn’t pay attention. I’m betting on the latter. We spot a few girls from our floor at the bar, and Layne waves them over. “Here, it’ll help you feel better.” She shoves what I think is a lemon drop at me with pleading eyes.
“Just one,” I say, annoyed with myself for how fast I give in. I tilt my head back and swallow. Shit, it’s sour. My eyes water but the burn feels good going down. Warmth spreads through my chest, giving me a small reprieve from my headache.
Layne grins as she sways to the music. “See? Told you it would help.”
“What makes you think it helped?” I ask, wiping my palm across my lips.
Caitlyn and Ashley, both wearing matching silver dresses, squeeze in next to us. Caitlyn’s hair is twisted up in space buns with glitter dusting her shoulders. They hug Layne, grabbing shots from the bar and downing them.
“Bailey! You actually came out!” Ashley shouts over the music, pulling me into a hug. I’m hit with a whiff of vodka and vanilla body spray. “I feel like I never see you here.”
Caitlyn leans across the bar, waving a twenty at the bartender while three guys hover nearby, staring way too long at the way her dress rides up.
“I had to beg her,” Layne says. “Clay pissed me off again, so she couldn’t say no.”
“Wow,” I say under my breath. “Glad to know how easily manipulated I can be.” No one is listening to me, as Layne shoves a beer in my face.
She knows I hate beer.
“Oh my God!” Ashley says, pointing toward the entrance. We all turn to see what she’s pointing at. “It’s Josh and his roommate.”
“Josh?” Layne asks, eyeing them with a raised brow.
“From Waller’s class. English. You seriously don’t remember him?” Ashley asks, craning her neck for a better view.
“Wait,” Caitlyn says. “Is that Kyle with him?”
“Kyle can choke on his drink.” Ashley rolls her eyes. “After what he pulled at the party last weekend, I’m so done.”
While they debate about whether or not Kyle should be allowed to live, I pull out my phone and check for notifications.
Nothing but a few new junk emails and an Instagram notification that my aunt in Colorado liked the story I shared about the decline of literacy among children.
Leon hasn’t texted me back. I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest, but it sticks around like the stubborn bitch it is.
We’re an hour away from each other. He’s…
him and it’s Friday night and… No. I’m not spiraling.
I already feel shitty, and stressing over Leon won’t help.
He’s probably working or studying or out with my brother and Damon, doing whatever it is those three do.
“More shots!” Layne yells, passing me a sticky, half-spilled cup. “Oh, your phone is out.” She grabs it, slings her arm around me, and snaps a picture of us together—me looking bewildered while she sticks her tongue out, head tilted toward mine. “One more shot and then let’s dance!”
She pushes my phone back into my hand and turns toward the bar.
There’s no way I’m taking another shot. I’m already wobbly and my head still hurts.
The photo she took lights up the screen.
It’s cute and definitely captures our personalities.
Something in the background catches my eye though.
I turn my brightness all the way up and zoom in.
Is that the light-haired guy from the pharmacy?
My stomach drops as I whip my head around, scanning the crowded space.
I can’t spot him now, but looking back at the photo, I know without a doubt it’s him. And he’s staring right at us.
I hug my chest and move closer to Layne. She takes it as a cue to start dancing on me, so I sway with no real rhythm while I search the crowd for those cold blue eyes.
“To getting Bailey out on a Friday night!” Layne says, holding up her shot to cheers with Ashley and Caitlyn. “Bails, here.”
She holds the drink out to me but I shake my head. “You guys can have it.”
“More for me,” Ashley says, double-fisting the cups. I’m so going to be holding someone’s hair back tonight.
“Let’s go dance!” Layne says, pulling me out onto the packed dance floor. It’s a sea of writhing bodies moving as one. The bass rumbles through the floor and up my legs, making my bones vibrate. My stomach lurches from the overwhelming smell of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.
Layne starts swaying her hips. She’s totally in her element, loving life.
She screams, “I love this song! Come on!” and grabs my hands, raising them above her head.
I try to match her energy. Really, I do.
Maybe like thirty percent effort. But it’s not happening tonight.
My movements must look stiff and unnatural compared to everyone around me.
We dance like that for three songs. I get groped, bumped into from behind, and pushed against Layne which she takes as me dancing up on her.
“Isn’t this great?” she shouts into my ear, her words slightly slurred.
I force a smile and nod.
Telling her about my claustrophobia would be pointless as the crowd swells around us. As the next song begins the dance floor seems to shrink, too many bodies move closer and closer, pressing against me until I can barely breathe.
“Water!” I shout into her ear and gesture toward the bar. She nods and lets me pull her away from the crowd. The relief is almost instantaneous. I suck in a breath. It still doesn’t smell the best, but at least I can get it down into my chest.
“Can you order me a beer? I’ll be right back, gonna go fight my way to the bathroom.” Layne passes me some cash but I shake my head.
“I got it. Just be quick.” She squeezes my hand and leaves. Each step she takes from me has my pulse drumming in my ears. It’s the worst feeling, like I’m somewhere else. Lights blur, sounds drown out. The space around me thins like I’m looking through a paper tube.
I get bumped and knock into the woman in front of me. She wobbles on her platform heels, spewing a few choice insults my way, but I barely hear her.
“Sorry!” I yell, or maybe I whisper. I don’t know anymore. I spot a clear space at the end of the bar and move toward it, step by step, like I’m lost at sea and that small vacant spot is a lone island among the endless blue.
I get my cup of water, although I don’t remember asking for it. The cold liquid feels incredible sliding down my throat. I close my eyes and try to block out the chaos around me. It’s not until Layne wraps her arm around my shoulder that I open them.
“Where’s my beer?” she hollers.
“Shit. I forgot. I can—”
“Oh my God, Bailey!” She grabs my arm, digging her nails into my skin. “He’s here!”
“What? Who?” I dart my eyes around the room and don’t see anyone recognizable.
“Clay!” She points at the far end of the bar and adjusts her dress so her tits are barely covered. “That bastard. We fight, and he thinks he can just come out and find someone else to hook up with.”
“Maybe he’s looking for you.”
“You think?” she asks, her expression softening.
“Go on,” I say, waving her off. It’s inevitable, she’s going to confront him.
It’s just a matter of me telling her to leave me be or not.
I’d rather sit here alone than have to listen to her go off about Clay until he notices her.
Or maybe I’m right, and there’s a slim possibility that he’s here for her… Anything’s possible.
I sip my water and try not to stare as Layne and Clay go from fighting to making out within two minutes. I figured that would happen. He pulls her onto the dance floor and they get swallowed up into the crowd.
There’s no reason for me to stay here any longer. I’m sure Layne will understand… Hell, she probably won’t even notice I’m gone until her and Clay wind up back in our room to pass out.
I feel so loved.
I pull my phone from my purse and open Uber. At least a fifteen minute wait. Not too bad considering it’s Friday night. Hitting order, I push my half-full water onto the bar and make my way toward the door. I’d much rather wait outside, even if it’s still drizzling.
Blissfully cool air hits my face once I’m out the door. I don’t even care that I have to walk through a cloud of cigarette smoke to get to the corner. It’s still better than being inside.
I double check the street sign and send a message to the driver letting him know where to pick me up. I’ll text Layne too. It’s the right thing to do, even if she ditched me first.
Me: Hey, heading home. Head’s still killing me. Be safe… love you
The smokers head back inside as the drizzle gets heavier, leaving me alone under a dim streetlight.
It’s quiet except for the muffled thump of bass from inside the club.
I watch the app, waiting for the little car icon to stop at my location.
Twelve minutes until my ride arrives. I’ll probably be soaked, but there’s no way I’m waiting inside.
I swipe my text thread with Leon open again. Still nothing. I don’t want to admit to myself that it hurts… I’m more mature than that. These things happen. People get busy. It happens to me all the time.
But not with him.
I lean back against the wet brick building and scroll up through our messages from earlier this week, pausing on one from Tuesday night. Sweet dreams, Firefly. Can’t wait to see you soon. My chest tightens. He started calling me that after—
The squeak of wet brakes startles me. A black SUV idles against the curb. I glance at my phone, but the little car icon is still a few blocks away. A car door slams and footsteps echo in the quiet.
Before I can process what’s happening, someone grabs me from behind and clamps a strong hand over my mouth. I can’t run or call out for help, they’re too strong. The scent of cologne is familiar and suffocating.
“Hello again.”
That voice, the accent.
My phone slips from my palm as I’m dragged into the open car door. I kick uselessly but my feet barely touch the ground. The last thing I see before I’m plunged into blackness is the dark-haired man holding a syringe.