Nudge 11 The Seven Notebooks
The Seven Notebooks
A definitive rating of the La La Lounge Lucie(n) cocktails
From a totally unbiased and definitely not drunk source
Nice palate cleanser. A little stingy, but good.
2. The P’eve’na Colada: 8/10
Classic and beautifully blended. The name warrants the electric chair, though.
3. The Torp‘eve’do: -5/10
I thought Lucie and Lucien were nice until they let me drink this.
4. The minty one (didn’t hear the name, too scared to ask): 6.5/10
Tastes like liquid toothpaste, but it kind of grows on you after a while.
5. ??? It was fruity?: 9/10
Aiden drank this one soooo quickly. I don’t think that’s fair.
6. This one: 5.5/10
It’s giving girl next door. Shockingly average. Is that gin? It could be vodka, idk.
‘There she is, Moany Maddy and the notepad.’ Aiden is staring down at my sheet with thinly veiled disgust.
The words jump around the page, leaping between lines and dancing in their own little circles. It’s wildly confusing and disorientating, and the longer I stare, the less I can trace their movements without feeling motion sick. I glance away, reverting my gaze back to Aiden and his judgy face.
‘We have to relay this to Evie. How were you planning to recall which one should win?’
‘It’s a cocktail,’ he says. ‘I will send her an email saying, number three tastes good. Go with that one.’
‘Number three tasted like fragrant toilet water,’ I slur as I lean in closely to whisper the last bit.
I was going for smooth and suave – the act of someone who does this all day.
And honestly, it would have worked had the room not been so spinny.
The floor comes zooming up to meet me and Aiden smirks as his hand anchors me into place, keeping me on my seat and off the floor.
He does the best that he can, but my head lurches forward, a giggle escaping me as our foreheads collide.
I hear the knock more than I can feel it – I’m too distracted by how funny he looks from this angle.
I keep my head right in place, pressed up against his, as he tries and fails to swallow his bemused grin.
‘I’m cutting you off,’ he says, his breath tickling my lips as he continues to take the majority of my weight.
I protest, leaning back in my seat, confident in my balance and his firm hold on my knee. ‘I am fine.’
‘You need water.’ A glass appears at my fingertips.
‘You guys are amazing, you know that? Like wizards!’ I coo at a smirking Lucie and Lucien. ‘Except instead of magic, it’s drinks that you make.’
‘I’m gonna take her outside, get her some air,’ Aiden says, nodding towards them. ‘But this was great, thank you! I’ll be in touch with our notes.’
I feel his arm swing around me and scoop me off my chair, and we make our way back down that quiet stairwell.
Except this time, the stairs are smaller and more slippery, with less room for feet and overall movement.
Whoever designed this place should have been more consistent.
No person wants to walk down a moving staircase.
‘How are you doing this?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘The moving stairs!’ I say. ‘You keep walking on them like normal stairs!’
He glances at me, perplexed, before his brain starts to connect my words with the flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. His mouth crooks into a smile, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he grips me tighter and shakes his head.
‘God, when you commit, you really commit, don’t you?’
He guides me down the final set before we plunge back into the roaring crowd from before. They’re louder this time, the bass striking my heart as it beats to the rhythm of the gyrating bodies. It is magnetic – impossible to watch, but far more impossible to look away from.
‘We should dance,’ I say.
‘You dance?’ Aiden asks, shocked.
‘When there’s music to dance to!’ I grab his hand before he has a chance to laugh at me again, dragging him into the middle of the floor.
He’s reluctant at first, but soon he’s left with no choice; the drinks have unlocked a new strength I didn’t know I had.
We’re swallowed by the infinite bodies and swept away by the tide of their movements, ebbing and flowing just as they do.
What I once thought would feel suffocating is no more than a tight, sweaty hug, embracing me as I lose myself to the music.
The song switches to something I actually know, the beat pouring directly into my soul. I sing every word loudly, hips swaying to the rhythm as Aiden stares at me in disbelief.
‘You don’t dance?’ I ask, mirroring his tone from before.
He picks up on it, chuckling back at me. ‘I’m not a robot – of course I do.’
‘Well, come on, then!’ I reach for his hand once more.
He stares at it timidly at first, glancing up to double-check I’m definitely holding it for him.
So, I stretch it out further, shaking it for dramatic effect.
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and loosening him up on its way out of his mouth.
His fingers close around mine, his body effortlessly tuned into the music as he spins me around and pulls me in towards him.
His arm wraps round my front, holding me in place tightly as my back stays pressed against his chest. We move as one, Aiden, me and the music working in sync like the three of us were born to be together.
When I roll, he rolls. When I grind, he grinds back and he smells really good as he does it.
I turn my neck and crank my head up to sneak a better whiff of his cologne, losing my balance ever so slightly as I do.
But he doesn’t let me fall. He keeps me locked into place, his face dipping down to meet mine, laced with intrigue.
For a moment, it’s really just Aiden and me, the music a dull and unimportant thud in the background.
His face is so close I can see every detail, from the hair of each brow to the small but intentional part in his lips.
They dip further towards me, magnetic in their pull, acting purely on instinct.
I feel a jolt in my stomach, like a flash in a pan.
First exciting, but quickly overcome by something far more violent.
‘I don’t feel good.’
He freezes. ‘What?’
‘The drinks,’ I manage to say, before throwing my hand to my mouth and clasping it shut.
I can practically hear the acid roar in my stomach, working faster than I ever thought possible. I turn to face him properly so he can read the panic on my face loud and clear. He’s panicking right back, eyes wide and breath caught as he quickly devises next steps in his head.
‘Can you make it to the toilet?’ he asks, surveying the room.
‘How close?’ I ask.
‘Across the crowd.’
I shake my head. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘OK, fine – this way.’
He clutches my arm, sweeping me through the crowd and across the room faster than my legs could manage alone.
I fear each dancing person, a tall obstacle along the way, but I have no reason to as Aiden steers us through the maze effortlessly.
In no time at all, we reach his target destination – a nondescript door at the back of the club.
The cool air slaps me across the face, the night stilling once again and allowing me time for a much-needed deep breath.
‘Sit down.’ Aiden lightly tugs at my arm as he takes his own seat on the step where I stand.
I follow, softly lowering myself onto the step as gracefully as someone with tunnel vision can.
His arm reaches out to guide me, scooping me into place on the stoop.
It’s colder out here by far, but I have hardly any time to feel it before he drapes his suit jacket over my bare, goosebump-ridden shoulders.
‘Elbows on knees, eyes on floor. Breathe as deeply as you can.’
I follow each command in order and he watches closely as I do, hands at the ready in case of any missteps.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, looking down at the ground.
‘I know you are.’ He gives my back a light and pointless rub.
‘But that’s not true.’
‘That you’re fine?’
‘That you believe that I am.’
‘Just keep breathing, Maddy. I’m not cleaning up vomit.’
We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, me taking my breaths as he waits patiently next to me.
Each inhale fills my lungs with a cold, chilling air that pierces harder than the thudding that sat there before.
But, somehow, it’s working – somehow, it’s sobering me faster than the glass of water upstairs ever could.
The steadiness starts returning, the ground stops its swaying, and, though still hazy, the world begins to take shape.
‘This isn’t the same,’ I say, drunk courage taking the reins.
‘What?’
‘This – you helping me – this isn’t like the other day,’ I say. ‘You’re not, like, a hero, or something. This isn’t a panic attack. I just drank all those cocktails too quickly.’
‘I know. I never said that it was,’ he says softly.
‘Good, because it’s not. I’m not like this. I’m just drunk.’
It was meant to sound forceful and super direct – but judging by the quick chuckle that escapes his lips, I would argue that it had the opposite effect.
I whinge, throwing my head in my hands. ‘Don’t laugh at me!’
He’s not allowed to laugh at me while I’m incapacitated like this – it’s rude.
‘Would you believe that I’m laughing with you?’ he asks.
‘I’m not laughing.’
‘OK, you’re right. I was laughing at you.’
There’s a warmth to his goading that makes everything feel just that little bit safer. I will be OK, even if my head still feels like it’s rocking. Aiden and his jacket will not let me down.
I groan. ‘You’re the worst.’
‘And not a hero,’ he says. ‘You sure do have a way with words.’
‘Please, you’re no better,’ I say, scoffing. ‘What did you say the other day? That I was ruining my life with my own planning methods?’
I glance up long enough to watch his smile fade, retreating back into his mouth and leaving a frown in its place. His brow knots, eyes glazing over as he harkens back to that day, that never-ending moment in the boardroom that I’ve dared not speak of.