sweet instigator

one. (*)

Madeleine’s feet were hurting.

She uncomfortably shifted on her heels, twisting her ankles around a bit as she coped with the strain in her arches. Maybe another sip of her beer would soothe the ache a bit. Madeleine knew it wouldn’t, but she tried anyway, tipping her cup back to let the cold liquid run through her throat.

“This place is so fun!” Carla gushed. Madeleine hummed along softly, not feeling quite the excitement her coworker was displaying. Carla flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder as she looked around, clearly scoping her surroundings.

Madeleine arched up her brow, “Looking for someone?” She checked, her voice already breaking a bit from shouting over the loud music.

Madeleine had to admit it had been ages since she went to a club. When Carla - a girl who started at the firm not too long ago - asked her to go for an afterwork drink, this wasn’t what Madeleine saw herself doing on her friday night.

She was still in her working clothes, which consisted of black flares and a simple black t-shirt. She felt underdressed and more so looked like she belonged in a rave rather than anywhere else. The black heeled boots on her feet seemed like a good idea for a day of sitting behind her desk, not for an evening of standing up and dancing in the crowd.

“I don’t know.” Carla breathed, “Didn’t Tommy say he was going to be here?”

Madeleine frowned, “Tommy? The prop guy?”

Carla rolled her eyes, “It’s a job, Maddie.”

“No, I know.” She shrugged, “I just don’t know what it’s officially called. All I know is that he drives around day in, day out to look for props.”

“Well, yeah, Tommy the prop guy, I guess.” Carla took a sip of her wine. Madeleine tilted her head to the side, “You think he’s cute?”

“Just a bit.” Carla breathed, shrugging it off, “Do you know if he’s single?”

“I know he’s married.”

Carla’s eyes widened, “Shit, really?!”

“Yeah.” Madeleine chuckled, “Have you never seen the ring on his finger? He’s got a baby on the way, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Carla groaned, throwing the remainder of her wine down her throat, “I need something stronger than this.” She dragged Madeleine to the bar, “I was about to be a fucking homewrecker!”

Madeleine huffed out a chuckle, “It’s all good. Nothing happened, did it? You can have a crush on someone who’s married or taken, as long as it stays innocent.”

“Well, my thoughts definitely weren’t innocent.” Carla muttered, signalling the bartender, “Four shots of tequila, please.”

“Carla,” Madeleine groaned, disagreeing with the choice of drink even if the bartender was already grabbing four shot-glasses, “please tell me you’re going to drink all of them. I hate tequila.”

“How can you hate tequila?!” Carla laughed and Madeleine shrugged, “It makes me hurl. And besides, I haven’t eaten since lunch, I’m gonna be piss drunk. Can’t we leave this place and grab a bite somewhere? It’s like nine already.”

“Gosh, you sound like an old lady.” Carla teased, “But alright, after these shots,” She grabbed the glasses and pulled them closer as the bartender put a tray of lemon wedges on the bartop, “we’ll go out and find something to eat.”

Madeleine’s mood perked up but Carla held up her finger, “But only if you promise we’ll go dancing afterwards.”

“I can’t feel my feet.” Madeleine deadpanned as Carla pushed a shot in her hand, “Sitting down for about an hour will do wonders! You’ll forget all about that pain. C’mon, drink up!”