[ DISCLAIMER: intense - ish scenes. pleaaase vote and lemme know what you think in the comments! thank you guys for sticking with my story and being such awesome-sauce readers. ]
The rain began to drizzle as I made my way over to the Funky Buddha, purse in hand. I heard the club before I saw it - even from a block away I could feel the pounding bass reverberate through my chest.
I took a steadying breath before making my way towards the entrance, only to be stopped by a man dressed in all black. "Name?"
"Excuse me?
"Your name, miss. And an ID."
"Ummm . . ." I trailed off, completely caught off guard. This was not supposed to happen.
"If you don't have a reservation or an ID, I'm afraid I can't let you in." The bouncer said unapologetically, his voice monotonous and formal.
"But I have to save a friend from making bad decisions! Alcohol impairs your judgement, your motor skills, and your ability to make safe choices. Please, you have to let me in! Who knows, by now he could be getting some random girl pregnant and I will have to live the rest of my life with the guilt of knowing that I did nothing to help him." I paused, taking a moment to catch my breath.
"Impressive," The bouncer remarked dryly. "You certainly can talk, can't you? I'm calling security in two seconds."
"Actually, she's with me." I turned around in surprise as a deep voice interrupted our argument. Perched against the wall was a tall, handsome stranger. He had curly blonde hair and a strong, chiseled jaw-line, complete with a set of baby-blue eyes. He belonged on the cover of a men's clothing catalog, and I felt my cheeks turn bright red when his gaze trailed over me.
"S-sorry, Jeremy," The bouncer stammered before ducking his head in embarrassment. "I d-didn't know she was w-with you."
"It doesn't matter now," The stranger (Jeremy?) waved his hand in dismissal. "Here, follow me." He took my hand and lead me inside. "Sorry about him," Jeremy yelled over the thumping music, referring back to the incident with the usher. "He takes his job too seriously." I followed him through a mass of sweaty bodies, around the bar and back into the kitchen. It was surprisingly quiet, and I could finally hear myself think.
"My name is Jeremy, by the way."
"I'm Felicity." I smiled shyly.
"You're not from around here, are you?" He asked, propping his body up on the counter.
"How did you know that?" I responded, my eyes wide with disbelief.
He broke into loud, booming laughter. I glared at him indignantly, waiting for an explanation.
"You're accent, love. It's American."
I blushed again at his last comment, marveling at my own stupidity. "It's my turn to ask a question now. Why did the bouncer look so afraid when he saw you? And why do you walk around like you own this place?"
"Because I do. Well, technically my dad owns this club. And about twenty others across the UK, Europe, and the States but that's irrelevant." He finished and shot me a small smirk. "What about you? What brings you here to the Funky Buddha?"
"Well, I'm actually here because my friend - shoot! I forgot about Charlie!"
"Charlie? As in..." His eyebrows knit in confusion.
"Charlie Porter. Son of famed fashion tycoon Elizabeth Porter. Yeah, it's kind of a long story." I paused as a strange look flitted across Jeremy's face. "Do you know him?" I asked curiously.
