Crossing Lines

Chapter 1 - Mila

As soon as she says the word party, a thought pops into my head. "What about Mer?"

"She's out with that guy...what's his name? Josh? John?"

"Jason?"

"Jason Derulo?"

"Jim! It was Jim!" I exclaim victoriously.

"Jim! Yes, right. Well, let's see how long we will have to remember that name."

We both chuckle, knowing she's right. Meredith changes her men as often as her underwear, which, with the extent of her sexual endeavors, is quite often.

"So! As my best friend, it's your obligation to accompany me to this party." Jasmine gets back to the topic at hand in a matter of seconds.

For a moment I look at the woman I call my best friend for twenty-three years now, ever since we met at the age of four. Those years taught me a lot, but most importantly, it taught me that Jasmine only wants what's best for me. She always helped me get out of my comfort zone when needed.

As much as I hate it, I also know it's necessary. Truth be told, I don't think I'd have a shred of a social life without her. "I don't even know what to wear..." I finally give in, hoping to hell and back I won't regret this decision at the end of the night.

"Yay!" An excited giggle leaves her throat from my surrender, and she starts jumping up and down, clapping her hands. "Great! But first, you need to take a shower, girl. No offense, but I can literally smell your writer's block right now." She scrunches her nose, and even though I feel a little offended, I can't help but laugh. She's not wrong—I can smell myself right now.

"Yeah, I know." I sigh, trying to run a hand through my disheveled hair, but my fingers get stuck in multiple brown strands.

"Alright, you go shower, and I'll find some clothes for you," Jasmine says while sashaying out of my room, probably already thinking of the perfect outfit for me.

And I have to admit, that outfit turns out to be pretty perfect. Not that I'm surprised; Jasmine acted as my personal designer on more than one occasion, and she knows exactly what I like to wear.

Dressed in white shorts and a black off-shoulder blouse, I still nibble on my fingernails, trying to find an outlet for the anxiety in my veins.

"Jas...what kind of party is this exactly?" I ask while looking out the window of our Uber, noticing the colorful bright lights of L.A.'s most exclusive nightlife quarter. Los Angeles is shiny and vibrant, but this part of the city is polished and neat in a way that makes me apprehensive, suddenly. I've never been here before, and the amount of snobby people around here makes me think that maybe it's good that way.

"Well... It's not that big, really. But there'll be a ton of potential clients there!" Jasmine seems way too excited for my liking, her eyes sparkling with elation from the thought of finding her very own muse tonight. She's a photographer, one who lives for her job and never stops looking for new inspiration.

I'm happy for her, I really am. Even so, I scowl when I realize our ride comes to a stop in front of one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. "Really, Jas? The Vanity?"

"Yes, The Vanity!" She shrugs, like it's not a big deal that we're entering the world of the rich and the famous without being either. "Now come on, let's look for some hotties!"

I sigh when she steps out of the car, and for a moment, I just sit there, contemplating letting the driver take me back home. But then he raises an eyebrow at me through the mirror, silently asking me to step out of his vehicle, I'm guessing.