2. Distant Strain #3
“You’re right,” she says. “You’re alone and you’re not even taking advantage of it? Get your ass dressed. We’re going out tonight.” She points towards my bedroom, where my seldom-used party dresses lie.
“Hazel, I…” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No buts,” she interrupts, “You need a break, and we haven’t had a girl’s night out in for-fucking-ever.”
I sigh. Hazel is a force to be reckoned with, and arguing with her is usually fruitless. Besides, she is right. I can’t remember the last time I had fun; real fun, not the forced kind that I put on for Liam. And maybe a little disruption to my ordinary life is exactly what I need.
“Okay, Hazel. Give me a few minutes,” I surrender, and with a triumphant grin, she heads towards my kitchen, presumably to raid my fridge.
Pulling myself up from the couch, I trudge to my room.
Hazel’s infectious energy is already working its magic on me, lifting my spirits despite the turmoil of emotions I’m grappling with.
I rummage through my closet, picking out a simple dress and a pair of flats.
When I step out, Hazel takes one look at me and bursts into laughter.
“Amelia, darling, are you planning to hit a library or a club?” she teases, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re not stepping out with me looking like a librarian on duty.”
With that, she disappears into my room, and I can hear her tossing my clothes around. She emerges a few minutes later, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. In her hands, she holds a little black dress that I’d forgotten I even owned and a pair of heels that I’ve hardly worn.
“This, my dear, is your outfit for the night,” she declares, shoving the clothes into my hands. I can’t help but laugh at her determination as I go back into my room to change.
Slipping into the figure-hugging black dress, I can’t help but marvel at Hazel’s choice. The dress hugs my curves perfectly, the soft fabric making me feel both comfortable and confident. It’s short, reaching just a few inches above my knees, and the plunging neckline is daring but not scandalous.
The back is a web of crisscrossing straps, adding a touch of edginess to the overall look. I pair it with the towering black heels that Hazel picked out, and the result is stunning. My legs look longer, and my posture is significantly improved.
I finish the look with silver hoop earrings, a delicate silver bracelet around my wrist, and a touch of makeup, just enough to bring out my features without looking overdone.
As I look at my reflection in the mirror, I can’t help but feel a pang of excitement for the night ahead.
I don’t just look sexy; I feel it, and the newfound confidence is empowering.
When I finally emerge, Hazel’s eyes light up. “There’s the Amelia I know,” she says approvingly. “Now let’s go have a night to remember.”
Still laughing, I follow Hazel out of my apartment, my heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. I don’t know where we’re going, as we’re both under the legal drinking age and most places in the city are twenty-one and up. But Hazel, being Hazel, has found a spot that’s open to eighteen and above.
It promises to be a wild night, and for once, I’m ready to let loose and just enjoy.
As we step into the nightclub, the electric energy hits us like a tangible wave.
The atmosphere is pulsating with life, the rhythm of the bass reverberating through the floor and feeding the vitality of the crowd.
Multicolored lights dance around the room to the rhythm of the music.
People’s bodies sway and gyrate with abandon.
The air is thick with a cocktail of scents—the musky aftershave, the sweet aroma of perfumes, the tangy scent of alcohol - creating a heady mix that is alluring.
The chatter of voices, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, all blend into a symphony of sounds that add to the liveliness of the place.
We get served at the bar, a surprise given our age, but Hazel has a knack for making the impossible possible. The drinks are strong, and the alcohol burns as it goes down, but it’s a welcome sensation. It loosens us, and soon we’re dancing with a few guys.
They flirt and charm, and it would have been easy to get swept up in it all, but I remain vigilant. I keep them at arm’s length, the image of Reid ever-present in my mind. It’s not that I don’t trust myself, I do. It’s more out of respect for him, for us.
Hours slip by like minutes, filled with laughter, dancing, and a rare sense of freedom. But eventually, the night has to end. We leave the club, the cold air outside a stark contrast to the warmth and life we leave behind.
Back at my apartment, I lean against the door, my energy spent, but my spirits lifted. I turn to Hazel and thank her. “I needed this, Hazel. Thank you.”
Her smile is warm, understanding. “Anytime, Amelia.”
I bid her goodnight and step inside, the remnants of my earlier conversation with Reid forgotten in the revelry of the night. I’m ready for bed, ready to face whatever comes tomorrow. Tonight, I was just Amelia, not a mother, not a girlfriend, just a girl having fun. And it feels good.