Red 2 (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Two

The second the door to the massive translucent-glass building opened, I could sense the headache I would be carrying home tonight. Our group moved inside and were greeted with a packed club. Green and red and purple lights shine overheard, rotating and illuminating the skins of the partygoers. Bits of smoke snakes around high-heels and is stomped on by heavy feet. The music is of a breakout pop-star; I forgot her name, but the song is catchy, and I find myself bobbing my head to the beat.

Beside me, Tyler nods to a group of girls passing by. "How y'all doin'?" he croons and nods at them. They merely giggle and scamper away. I chuckle and wonder if he gets his flirting skills from Joey Tribbiani. And if so, why can't he get any girls? He was my favorite character on Friends and would have made those girls swoon. Maybe it's Ty's nauseating attempt at winking.

I throw an arm around his shoulder, and we all move toward the bar. "Maybe try again without the weird blinking thing," I suggest.

"I don't need any suggestions," he scoffs and flips his imaginative long hair. I'm guessing it would have slapped my face dramatically... I chuckle and he squints his eyes. "What do you mean weird blinking?"

"You're totally just blinking, dude." I sit on one of the tall black stools. I lift my fingers, signaling the male bartender. Getting his nod in acknowledgement, I return my gaze to my puzzled, offended friend.

"I am not blinking -- I'm winking!" he claims with a theatrical gasp.

"Oh, yeah?" I turn to him after ordering sever shots. "Then wink for me." I raise my palms, grinning jokingly. "And don't worry, I won't fall for your boyish charms, Casanova, just like those girls we saw a while ago."

"Dick," he spits, but then he leans back. Blinks rapidly, clears his throat -- basically acts like he's about to audition for the Titanic -- and finally 'winks.' Really, he's just blinking, but it's not just his eyes. His whole face scrunches up and his tongue juts out a little as if to peak out and laugh at the rest of his face.

I burst into laughter, clapping my hands. "That... was...tragic!"

"Your face is tragic," he mumbles lamely.

I laugh some more, finding I've missed messing with him and just being around his dumb-ass ways. He may be a tragic flirter and even more pathetic at comebacks, but he's my friend that I've admittedly missed. While under my partying rock, I blocked out all the strings to my old-self, determined to block out the pain that came with it. But I realize that hasn't worked, really. I'm still hurting everyday. I'm hurting right now, but at least I get to genuinely enjoy myself with people I care about.

Well, some of the people I care about...

Mike sidles up between us, picking up one of the shots the bartender sets down on the lit bar. "I heard he was trying to blink. Did you enjoy the show?" he's talking to me and smiling in his eyes.

"Yeah, I think I'll give it a five-star rating online." I grab a glass for myself, laughing at his eye roll.

"Fuck you, both," he sneers, grabbing a shot glass. He tries to scare us by squinting his eyes at us, but we just smile like we're being tickled.

"No thanks," we say in unison.

"Fellas." I wave a hand, gesturing to the other guys we came with. Once they all have their shots, we count to three before downing the drink. It feels like hell going down, but it'll feel like heaven in a while. The sharp sting has been a familiarity for a few months now, but it doesn't dull the pain. Ever.

"Oh shiiiit -- this is my song." Ty rolls his neck and starts to shake his shoulders, but stops when he notices our odd stares. Straightening with blood-red cheeks, he pops his collar and leans against the bar. "I mean -- fuck yeah! This is my shit! Let's go and find some ladies to dance with."