Golden [h.s.]

62. you give love a bad name

🎵You Give Love A Bad Name — Bon Jovi

"Holy fucking shit," Lydia says in awe as Brad leads us through the door of the penthouse. We've driven outside of Manhattan to the waterfront in Long Island City, where the after party is.

"Who's place is this?" Jax asks, turning around to look back at Brad. I don't hear Brad's response because as soon as we step through the doorway, music floods through my ears.

The penthouse is packed with people dancing and laughing everywhere, but I'm still dumbstruck over just how gorgeous the place actually is.

The room spins as Brad walks us down the hall, waving at people he knows and shaking hands. It's hard to remember that Brad is well known, especially in Manhattan, because of his work with Lotus.

I'm so drunk that all these faces are blurring together, but I feel a sense of excitement; I haven't been to a house party since Lydia and I graduated high school. Granted, this isn't just a house party — I can only imagine who's the owner of this luxurious penthouse.

Down the long hallway leads to a grand living room — the windows are large, showcasing the view of the water and the city behind it. Even in the darkness of the night and even from up here, the city's lights are reflected on the waves. It's pretty.

"Okay, Brad, you officially win," I say with a giggle, turning to look at him. The movement makes me a bit dizzy, but I manage to collect myself. "I thought Lydia could get us into the coolest places, but I was wrong."

Brad laughs and Lydia shrugs with a grin on her face. "I can't even argue with that, this whole night tops any ideas I've ever had!"

Brad leads us to the crowded kitchen — people are taking shots with their friends, some are making out in the corner, others are dancing to the music. The ceilings are high, which has me in awe for some reason. I've never seen such high ceilings in a kitchen.

God, I must be beyond drunk to pay attention to the fucking ceilings.

Brad squirms through the swarm of bodies, gesturing to Jax to help him. Lydia and I hang back by the counter by the sink, taking everything in.

"Hey," she nudges me, shouting over the music. "You okay?" Her bright blue eyes are filled with concern, despite them being a bit red due to all the alcohol she's consumed.

I grin at her, nodding, and she squeezes my hand in response. I am okay. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic and trapped inside at Hydrate, and I know it was all the emotions rushing through my body once I saw him — I got my glimpse of him, and right now, all I want is to forget that and focus on having fun. I deserve it.

Brad and Jax return, each holding two shot glasses. From the clear liquid, it's either tequila or vodka. Tequila, I decide — I smell it once Brad stands in front of me. I wrinkle my nose.

"You must want me to throw up, don't you?" I tease Brad, who's eyes widen. The room is hazy around his tan face.

"No, no, if you want, I can go get you something else, how are you feeling? Are you—" I laugh, cutting him off, placing a finger to his lips. He looks surprised, but doesn't make a move.

"If I throw up, you just have to take care of me," I say with a grin, taking the shot glass from his hands. Brad's face turns red and I see Lydia and Jax share a surprised look out of the corner of my eye. A giddy smile creeps up on Lydia's face.

"Let's drink!" Jax says as we all clink our glasses together, throwing the tequila down our throats. I wince; it burns like a motherfucker.

It's like after that last shot all hell broke loose in my head. I felt like I was seeing three Brads as he spoke to Jax. The light fixtures on the ceiling beamed down on us.