CHAPTER 3
Quinn
Sophie reels me in, belting out the chorus to Icona Pop’s “I Love It” at the top of her lungs.
I roll my eyes, but the grin slips free despite my best efforts.
Before I know it, I’m shouting the line back with her, laughing as I wrap my hands around her waist and try to keep up with the beat of one of our favourite songs.
For a second, it feels like the old days again. A lightness I haven’t felt in so long rises in my chest as the music wraps around us.
By the end of the third song, my feet are screaming. My heels pinch, a blister’s throbbing near my ankle, and as I shift on my toes to ease the discomfort, it only makes it worse.
I lean into Sophie, yelling over the loud bass. “I need a break.”
“Good idea,” Sophie shouts back, tugging me along as we weave through the packed dance floor before slipping out onto the balcony.
I close my eyes and lean against the railing for support, counting to three before exhaling, the spring breeze cooling my flushed cheeks. I just need a second to gather my thoughts.
When I reopen my eyes and take in the scene, I’m stunned by the transformation. This used to be a feral bar and beer garden, but now it glows with soft music and curated charm.
“Can you believe we used to waste nights here?” Sophie squeezes my hand as we cross the busy terrace, scanning for somewhere to sit.
Back then, we barely made rent most months, scraping by after spending our money on bad choices and greasy kebabs after long nights out in Brisbane city.
Still, it always felt worth it. Our motto: Hangovers are temporary, but memories are forever.
I’m sure it’s pinned somewhere on one of my old Pinterest boards.
“I’ll never forget it.” I huff a laugh. “Seriously, whoever managed to get rid of the smell in here deserves an award.”
“They really do, and I’m glad they changed the alcohol-soaked carpet. Do you remember that weird squelching sound it used to make?”
“How could I forget?” We both shudder at the thought, and I add, “Not as bad as the night you drank so much tequila you ended up winning that wet T-shirt contest.”
Sophie groans and hides her face in her hands, laughing. “Don’t remind me. I thought you swore we’d never talk about that again.”
“Can’t help it,” I tease, bumping her shoulder. “Well, I could have brought up that other time you went home w—”
“Oh my God, don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She points at me, still laughing.
I grin, ready with a comeback, but a voice cuts through the din of the crowd first. “Soph?”
We both turn to find a guy striding toward us like he owns the place. His cologne hits before he does, loud and overwhelming, but somehow fitting.
“Chad?” Sophie’s face lights up as she presses a dainty hand to her chest.
“This place just got a hell of a lot hotter,” he drawls, scooping her into a hug and holding her there for a beat longer than necessary.
“I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been forever.” She laughs lightly, smoothing her hair back when he sets her down.
I’m already bracing myself. He’s barely said a handful of words, but I know how this goes. Sophie gets swept up, and I fade into the background, pretending not to notice how invisible I’ve suddenly become.
“Baby girl, I’ve been waiting for you to message me,” Chad says, already pulling out his phone like it’s an extension of his ego. He tilts his wrist just enough for the Rolex—likely fake—to catch the light.
“I lost all my contacts when I switched phones.” Sophie gasps softly, tilting her head, eyes wide with practiced innocence. “Text me now so I don’t lose you again.”
“Done,” he rushes out with a grin, his veneers flashing, polished and blinding. “Tell me when you get it.”
I glance at Sophie’s screen, where his contact flashes up as Do not answer when drunk. I bite back a laugh and send her a smirk he doesn’t notice; he’s too wrapped up in himself. She changes it to “Chad x” and tacks on a heart emoji for good measure.
She keeps him hooked, purring in his ear, but when he looks away, she shoots me a look I’ve come to know well: don’t judge me. I shake my head and give her a playful smirk before she shifts her attention back to him.
Still, part of me is glad she’s distracted. Her situationship has been breadcrumbing her, stringing her along without giving her anything real. But God, she deserves better than both of these boys.
“You know this is all mine, right?” Chad brags gesturing around us, but there’s a wry glint in his eye, like he’s in on his own joke.
Sophie brushes imaginary lint off his shirt, lips curling into a pout. “Oh, I had no idea. It’s lovely here.”
It’s not lost on me that Chad still hasn’t acknowledged me once. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a couple of girls sneaking glances at him.
“Let me get you a VIP booth,” he says, already pulling out his phone and dialling. “Drinks on me.”
“Yes! We’d love that.” Sophie’s using the voice she saves for men she couldn’t care less about. “You’re the best.”
I scroll absently on my own phone, just giving my hands something to do instead of picking at the skin around my thumbnail. My stomach drops. I’d somehow turned off do-not-disturb, and two message notifications from Josh pop up. I swipe them away without opening, heart thudding.
He’s not usually this persistent, which only means one thing: he’s drunk somewhere grimy with Tyler. After ten p.m., his words always curdled into cruelty, and by morning, he’d delete them like that, erasing anything.
“Are you okay?” Sophie leans in close and murmurs.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just really need a drink,” I lie, forcing a lightness I don’t feel.
“If you’re sure. Don’t worry about Chad—we’ll play along, have a laugh. Worst case, we sneak off,” she says with a wink, dabbing gloss on her lips.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t have slimy friends,” I mutter.
“Hey, if he hangs around too long, message me our emoji. I’ll make up an excuse,” she promises, looping her arm through mine.
“Pretty sure he’ll be too busy undressing you with his eyes.”
Right on cue, Chad glances at her cleavage before snapping his gaze back to her face. She rolls her eyes and I grin back.
“I’ve got a booth set up for you on the terrace. Unlimited bar tab,” he announces, holding out his hand. Sophie beams, taking it with a practiced smile before leaning in to kiss his cheek.
I stand back, the noise of the terrace rushing in: the clink of glassware and the burst of laughter from a nearby table reminding me just how out of place I feel tonight.
As he leads the way, Sophie whispers, “You’ve got this, Quinn. We’ll have fun. I’ll make sure of it.”
I want to believe her, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t ease, tightening no matter how hard I try to match her vibe.