Songs for this chapter are:
Fool For You- Zayn
Love Love Love- Of Monsters and Men
Gasoline- Halsey
...
Getting ready to go to a club is something I'm not even close to familiar with. I would say I'm right in the middle of being able to dress myself. I usually wear plain t-shirts with jeans or slacks, and since I've moved to Brooklyn, I've gotten a few jackets to add to my wardrobe.
I don't know what type of club we are going to, or what Nora will be wearing. I don't know much about clubs in general and she's only given me the name of the place, no details.
I opt for a gray t-shirt and dark jeans with rips in the knees. My hair is getting long in the front, it curls down slightly on my forehead but I can't decide if I want to cut it. I put some of Tessa's spray stuff in my hair and try to comb the unruly hair on my face. I like the scruffy look but I really wish I didn't have the patches of skin at the bottom of my cheeks that refuse to grow hair.
I check my phone for the time and realize that I need to hurry the hell up, or I'll be late. I quickly roll my sleeves up and push my feet into my brown boots. When I put the address into Maps on my phone, I'm relieved that I can walk there in ten minutes. I'll use the walk to quiet my mind and try to think of interesting conversation points to keep Nora and her friend's somewhat entertained. Will they be into politics? I hope not, that never ends well.
When I get to the club it's smaller than I expected a nightclub to be. I've been to a club once in downtown Detroit and it was twice the size of the brick building we are waiting in front of now. The setup of this club isn't like the movies, where there's always an over muscled, bossy man controlling the door. His little clipboard and earpiece hold the power to make or break the self-esteem of women who would never give him the time of day.
A simple nod from him while he unhooks the velvet rope, validates the two hours they have spent getting ready. If you're made to wait longer, you are nothing. That's what he wants you to feel like anyway and it's pretty messed up.
It's all a charade though, he still sleeps alone at night and he doesn't feel any better about himself the next morning. His power trip has a twelve-hour expiration. After that, he still hates himself and he's still mad that he didn't get that one big shot he deserved or that one hot woman who he didn't make an effort to treat with any sort of respect. It makes me a little sad to know that in 2016 people still care about getting into nightclubs based on their looks, I try my hardest not to buy into that, but I know it's easier said than done and in some circles, it's just what you do.
I'm extremely relieved that this club isn't like the clubs in Detroit, or in the movies. The small red brick building is on the corner of the street, right next to a row of food trucks parked on a vacant lot. The street isn't as busy as the sidewalk, only a few green cabs and a Tesla drive by. More than a few people join the three of us on the sidewalk as we wait to go inside.
"They already have a table," Nora says, pointing inside.
I looking out of place. I text Tessa while I follow Nora inside and tell her I'm here. I feel a little bad that she's coming out with us, knowing that she would rather be in her bed, reading the highlighted pages of her favorite book. She would much rather be buried under her blanket, crying over the mistakes and regrets of these characters, wishing her relationship had ended like one of her novels.
I had to take Nora's side there; lying in bed being miserable isn't good for her. I walk toward the door of the club and when it opens, smooth electric music tumbles out into the sidewalk. The beat is nice, slow yet fast, soft but complicated.
I speed up and take an extra step to get closer to Nora to try to make conversation.
"Do you dance?" I ask as we enter.
She runs her index down the center of my lips.
"No one dances here," she smiles at me the way a mother smiles at their child when they have to explain the simplest logic to them.
When I look around, it's not a club at all. Why the hell did I not just Google the name of the joint?
The place is crowded and it's a typical hip hangout. Small wooden tables, dark lighting, industrial theme. Groups of people congregate at the bar, laughing and downing handcrafted cocktails. A man with white hair shakes a cup of neon colored liquid and everyone watches, cheering him on as he pours it over a bed of ice. It sizzles and a cloud of smoke comes from the cup. I'm impressed. I look at Nora and watch her expression change from curiosity to completely skeptical.
"That's the lamest trick in the book!" She yells, loud enough for the bartender to hear her.
I look from side to side, taking in all the faces turned to us now. She doesn't turn away; she stares straight into the man's eyes when he turns toward the complaint.
"I should have known that was you!" His expression is pure annoyance, but it's all pretend.
I can tell by the way he doesn't stop looking at her, that he knows her well enough to tease her.
Briefly and irrationally, I wonder if they have dated or are dating now.
"Hi Mitch," she smiles and leans against the bar.
She's using the bar counter as a shelf for her chest and he notices. He likes it. I watch him stare, unashamed, into her open cleavage.
Her shirt is low, the neck cut into a V-shape and her black jeans couldn't be tighter unless they were painted onto her tan skin.
"Don't scowl, it doesn't suit you." Tessa chimes into my ear.
Am I that transparent? I straighten out my face and try to rationalize this. I've never been a jealous person. Dakota would have driven a jealous person straight insane with her flirty personality and the pull she seemed to have on every guy at our high school. She did a good job at never making me feel like I had to fight for her, she was always mine and I didn't feel the need to be immaturely jealous or dramatic over it.
"When did you get here?" I ask Tessa, distracting myself from staring at Nora.
"Just now, work was dead," she sighs, shrugging her shoulders like she would rather be anywhere than here.
Horny bartender prances over, his smile wide and his hair perfectly quiffed. I'm sure he's nice. He has the shoulders of a linebacker and the build of Adam Levine. He's a tiny thing, yet muscular. It's an odd combination, but I can see the appeal.
Nora lifts her arms into the arm as he approaches and he steps right into them. The bar is the only thing keeping the two of them from full body contact. I look away from them, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see that they are still hugging.
I look around the place. All of the drinks are written in chalk on a big blackboard behind the bar. Letters To Your Lover contains gin, raspberry, and something that I can't read. The Knot- So- Manhattan is a gasoline like blend of whiskey, Vermouth, and Bitters. A little hand-drawn knot is doodled next to the handwritten ingredient list.
I continue to read through the quirky list of crafter cocktails. I'm assuming that since Nora is about twenty-five and definitely knows the bartender, we won't have any problem getting served alcohol. I don't drink often- aside from a beer or two when Ellen, the girl who works at the corner store under my apartment gives me the beer she's going to throw out. I barely drink them, a six pack lasts a month usually, but I would like a drink tonight if I'm offered one. Tessa and I have gone out a few times and been offered a cocktail menu, we've ordered them a few times without being carded. We walk on the wild side every once in a while.
Being across the bridge has its advantages and this is one, I'm not sure that I even want to drink, especially if everyone else will be. One of us has to be in the right mindset and I would rather it be me. I know my way around much more than Tessa and I have to make sure she gets home in one piece, if she plans on drinking too.
"I'm going to the bathroom," Tessa tells me. I nod and stand awkwardly in place, waiting for Nora to remember that I'm here.
I stare at Mitch and he keeps getting more and more attractive, and more and more obnoxious. Shouldn't he be making drinks or something? Now it's just me, Sophia-Nora, and one of the most attractive men ever created.
These type of men are brought into this world to make men like me feel inadequate. His teeth are so straight, and whiter than a new pair of sneakers. I look at them again, tilting on the heels of my boots and trying not to stare at them. Maybe I should have taken a bathroom break with Tessa?
Before I can walk away, Nora breaks away from Mr. Hot guy- who's too hot to work at a small bar. She steps up to my side and links her arm through mine. Her hands are cold when she touches my arm. I reach for her hands, take them in mine, and rub them together. The heat immediately surfaces along with my cheeks burning at my forwardness. Thank god it's dark in here.
She looks up at me, her eyes curious. She looks down at our hands, at my gesture, and smiles. The lights suspended from the ceiling are moving, casting shadows and drawing light on her body. The exposed skin of her neck and chest is glowing under the slow moving lights and she's staring at me, and I'm staring at her and I can't stop.
I look over at Mr. Hot and he's not paying any attention to us. I sort of wish he would. What's wrong with me? I've got to stop talking to Hardin so much. He's turning me into an asshole.
A neurotic asshole.
"Let's go sit down?" Nora keeps eye contact with me.
It's slightly unsettling, keeping eye contact with anyone, especially a beautiful girl who I've already sort of admitted that I'm attracted to. When she kissed me, my body responded in a way that would make one think that I had been dying to get my tongue in her mouth.
She hands me a drink with a strand of red Licorice tied into a knot. There's a little stick in the drink with an upside down skyscraper on the end of it. It appears to be made from wood. I'm impressed. Nora's drink has a little note clipped on the side of her cocktail glass. I'm going to assume that it's a little letter. I'm double impressed.
Nora continues to stare at me and I remember that she said we should sit down. I nod, wanting to move away from the crowded bar area. The row of tables looks pretty crowded too, but at least we can sit down there. The music is nice, low and steady with a good beat. There's no dance floor, it's a cocktail bar that has a small menu, not a nightclub. I still can't believe I didn't just look up the place instead of overthinking it.
Nora wraps her fingers around my wrist and leads me toward the back of the place. The space gets darker and darker the further we move away from the bar until Nora stops at a table full of women. It amazes me how close people like to sit to each other in this city. The small tables are all lined up next to each other and you can hear everything the people around you are saying. Here the music is pretty loud so that may not be a problem. A few of the seats at the table are empty and Nora gestures for me to sit down at the last seat, closest to me. She sits down across from me and raises her drink to mine. I poke at the licorice and at the little wooden building and move them out of the way before I take a drink.
Holy hell, this tastes like gasoline. I somehow knew that it would. I smile at her, but shake my head.
"I'm going to sit this one out," I wave my hands at the drink. She laughs, covering her mouth and nods.
"I don't blame you!" She pushes a tumbler full of still water toward me with a smile. She grabs my drink and smells it, scrunching her nose at the harsh smell. She pushes it away, toward the edge of the table, further away from me.
I like that she doesn't mind if I choose not to drink. Nora takes another sip of her drink and licks at the pink sugary rim of her glass. She unclips the note and rips open the flap on the little envelope. She reads the words and I reach for the card. She huffs, rolling her eyes at the corny card. Her fingers play at the thin chain of her necklace as I read the card.
The words read, Dear Lover, don't open a new door if something is hiding behind the other.
I laugh and hand the letter back to her. It's clever marketing. While I wonder if they actually change the notes out and if so, how often, Nora looks slightly uncomfortable as she begins to introduce me to her friends.
"Melody," Nora points to pretty Asian girl. Her eyeliner is thick, drawn in a perfectly straight line and out to a point.
"Hi," Melody says, looking from Nora to me.
The next girl's name is Raine, then Scarlett. Maggy is next, and by now faces are blurring together because really, I just want to talk to Nora alone. I want to ask her things like how she likes her coffee, what season she prefers?
Maggy says something and taps the shoulder of the girl next to her and realization strikes me like a damn match. Maggy, is Maggy. Maggy.
The girl turns around and her face twists in confusion. My mind has to be playing games with me. Dakota is staring back at me, her eyes immediately widen and her lips tighten into a confused frown.
"Landon," she is confused, but I get the feeling that she noticed my presence much earlier than I noticed hers.
Her eyes are tight on me, draining every ounce of excitement I had when I walked through the door. This is when I would desperately love to have a portal to jump through, to take me anywhere but here. I would even take being zapped into the middle of The Battle Of Helms Deep. Unfortunately for me, I haven't found a way to portal into my favorite movie series.
Though, when I was sixteen my aunt got me a Lord Of The Rings Lego set and I attempted to put together that exact battle scene. It was too complicated. Dakota lasted longer than me, putting little little bow and arrows on at least fifty elves. She was better at Lego's and she's much better at coming up with words to say. So, here I am and here she is staring up at me and then to Nora, then back to me. I watch as she pieces it together, the fact that Nora brought me here.
Her almond eyes narrow into slits and she turns to Nora with a huff. "This is the hot guy?"
Hot guy? What? I look toward the bar, wanting to crawl behind it. This isn't going to go well.
Nora rolls her eyes at Dakota with a quick laugh.
"Way to bust my balls, Dakota." Nora sticks out her tongue.
Oh no. She doesn't even understand what's happening here. Nora's tone is different with Dakota, something unpleasant is threaded through her words.
Tessa approaches us, and when she notices Dakota standing in front of Nora and I, she looks just as confused as Dakota. My problem solving skills have suddenly evaporated and I'm sitting here like an idiot with no words to say.
Dakota turns her attention back to Nora and I try to think of something to say to make this make sense. I don't want a scene. I want one thousand other things before I want to cause a scene here.
"So, how long have you been seeing each other?"
"We aren't," I say.
"Just recently, it's a new thing." Nora's voice is louder than mine.
Nora looks at me and my chest caves in. She's confused by my answer.
Recently? What does she mean recently? Are we seeing each other? Is that what this is?
She's only kissed me once, and outside of a few minutes alone while Tessa is in the shower or on her way home from work here and there, we haven't spent any alone time together.
Dakota's eyes begin to water and I can see her loading her guns. She's building up accusations, brewing some theory of how this could make sense. I've hardly ever been on this side of her anger, and for some reason, a part of me feels fulfilled. We hardly fought, she yelled often, but not at me. Never at me.
"We aren't dating," I feel the need to tell her again.
The other three ladies at the table begin to whisper, probably creating their own version of the live Soap Opera that's unfolding in front of them.
I look at Nora and she's beginning to catch on.
"You two know each other?" she asks.
"Know each other?" Dakota's voice is deep now, guarded, as she waves her hand back and forth between Nora and I.
Come on, portal. I'm waiting on you to suck me and get me the hell out of here.
Dakota eying me like I'm a predator, something she has to escape from. I hate it. She's so far down the table and I can still how upset she is. Her fingers grip the edge of the table and she bulges her eyes at me, probing for my response.
"Yes, we know each other. We've known each other for a long time," Dakota's putting on a show.
She's detached herself from this. The small crowd, Nora, and I will never see how much this bothers her. She grabs one of the glasses in front of her and doesn't look down to see what it is before she takes a drink.
Nora's shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths and she doesn't say anything. Everyone is looking at me now.
One glare.
One expecting look.
Two more glares.
Tessa is looking at her phone now, she's no help.
Make that three glares...
and an eye roll.
Dakota grabs her purse from the back of her chair and pushes past me. I try to reach for her shoulder, but she jerks away, nearly tripping over the chair next to me.
When I turn around, I'm face to face with Nora.
"You're the fucking guy. You're the nerdy ex from Michigan." Her voice is flat, unimpressed, with a splash of embarrassment. I stand up.
Nerdy ex? Is that what she thinks of me?
Does Dakota refer to me as that? Is that how she describes me to her friends?
So many questions, but Dakota is no longer around to answer them. I look toward the door and spot Dakota's white jacket near the door. She pushes it open and disappears through it. I can't imagine how she must feel. She thinks I'm dating Nora and I lied to her earlier about having to write a paper.
This is exactly why I never lie. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to lie, I should have known it would backfire, nothing good ever comes from a lie . Aside from a few harmless lies about remembering her friend's drama and a handful of times where I pretended to know what she was talking about, I never needed to lie to her.
A hand pushes against my chest and I'm face to face with Nora again. She's challenging me now, making me choose.
How can I choose? I barely know her.
I can't let Dakota leave here alone, this late at night. She's upset and I get the feeling that I have no idea just how volatile she can be. Her self-destruction is her greatest enemy.
"I'm sorry," is the only thing I have time to say to her before I follow Dakota out into the night.