11. Playing Pretend

Fever has never looked so... expensive.

The renovations have done them well, and as I step out from the line onto the dance floor, I feel like I'm anywhere but a dingy nightclub down a creepy alleyway in the backstreets of New York. And yet, here I am. And Rory of course. This place looks like it belongs in some kind of fancy gangster movie. Where evil mafia people do their dodgy dealings.

Above the dance floor is another two levels, overlooking the people down below. People walk around casually, sipping drinks that are probably worth more than my tuition. Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic, but still. Each level is a new level of expensive, the third floor looking like only the richest of the rich are allowed. There are men in suits and women in beautiful dresses, wearing jewellery that I can see in the dim lighting all the way from down here.

The last time I was here was months ago. And there was only one floor then, and you definitely wouldn't find anyone worth anything here. It must be the new owner who decided that they could make a pretty penny out of this place if they really tried. And tried they did. Clearly they were successful.

"I feel like I don't belong here," I yell over the music towards Rory who looks like she's in just as much awe.

"Who the hell does?" She laughs. "The club is a place to pretend, everyone here is pretending."

I give my friend an odd look before staring up at the third floor once more.

"We should get drinks." Rory suggests, and I nod along in agreement.

"That's just what I was thinking."

We push our way through the hot and sweaty bodies until we come up to the bar that looks just as exquisite as the rest of the place. There's LED lighting behind the bottles, making each light up. It looks like some sort of mystical potion place, like something out of shadow hunters. This whole place does.

I catch one of the bartenders and order a vodka pineapple. It's the only thing I can stomach. I hate the taste of alcohol and pineapple is strong enough so that it masks it. He serves it up quickly and I down it just as fast, ordering another immediately. Screw not drinking. I'll only have a few anyway, I won't be getting drunk, that's for sure.

Rory orders a fireball shot and throws it back, surveying our surroundings quickly after. Like she's on some sort of mission. "Alright, we're here which means it's time to find you a man. See any you like so far?" She yells over the music.

I look across the dance floor, sorting through each face, praying I can find someone—anyone. "I can't see anyone yet, but maybe I just need to get out there."

I begin moving away from the bar and more towards the centre, Rory following closely behind. She takes my hand and I hold it tightly. I don't want to be losing her in a place like this.

My skin brushes against everyone as we push through, I certainly didn't choose the most conservative outfit tonight. Instead going for a short black skirt, some docs and a singlet top. While it isn't the fanciest—it's also a club. You don't dress fancy for a club. You dress like you're going out to get fucked, by alcohol and your person of choice.

A man gives me a smile as Rory and I settle on the dance floor, and I return it. He's actually not too bad looking, he's actually kind of attractive. Though any thoughts of him quickly disappear when I notice the girl in his arms. I might be a hoe, but I'm not a home wrecker. I'm not going to be ruining any relationships tonight, I know how that feels and I don't plan on doing that to anyone. Ever.

So I continue scouring the place, while Rory and I lose ourselves to the music. And thankfully it doesn't take long before I'm floating and my eyes connect with another guy. He's tall and muscular, he looks like he plays football or something like that. Not what I'd normally go far, but I make sure my interest is known. When he sees me, he looks at me hungrily, and I can't help but bathe in the attention.

We gravitate towards each other until our bodies are touching.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Phoebe, you?"

"Josh," Ew.

I wrap my arms around his neck anyway and pull our bodies close. He certainly doesn't stop me and I jump slightly as he grabs my ass, not expecting the sudden touch. Regardless, I don't back away, and instead lean my lips towards him. He's a little taller than me, so I don't have to go on my toes.

Not like when Leon kissed me.

Fuck, don't you dare think about that prick when you're making out with another dude. You disgusting little hoe.

His mouth tastes like beer, exactly like what I imagined a football player would taste like. His skin is rough and he smells like sweat. And not really in a good way. But I'm willing to overlook that. As long as his dick ends up in me by the end of the night. I just need—

Just as our lips momentarily disconnect, my eyes drift to the third floor where I notice the silhouette of a man looking down at me. Probably not me specifically, I mean, it's a big club and I can hardly see anything with the lights blinding me. But I can feel his stare. It scolds my skin, scorning me and making me feel naked beneath his gaze. Even when I'm surrounded by hundreds of other people he could be looking at. And something about that makes my insides pool with heat.

So I lean back into the football player and kiss him with feverish want. I'm starting to understand why they gave this club its name.

I pull at his shirt and bite his lip as he grips my ass and holds me by the neck. My whole body is overcome with heat and I don't know how much longer I can go without—

I'm yanked away from John or whatever the hell his name is, and I stumble backwards into another group of people. Everything spins around me, and it feels like I've had way more drinks than I actually have. "Sorry!" I yell at the people I bumped into, and begin looking around for the dude, still feeling horny as fuck. But as I try to find his face, all I can see is the flashing lights and swaying bodies. I can't see him anywhere. Maybe Rory will know where he is?

I turn to look for her, but also fail miserably when I scan the area. Fuck, I told myself I wasn't going to lose her. Surely she couldn't have gotten far, or maybe she's just gone to the bathroom? I pull out my phone from my pocket, but don't see any messages from her. My screen is completely blank of any notifications. I quickly shoot her a message asking where she is, before closing it once more.

I can't believe things are already going so wrong. And now I'm being left high and dry. Maybe this is karma for stringing Holland along and annoying his annoying brother. But he deserved it, so what can I say?

So I begin to move to the music once again, closing my eyes and swaying. I quickly fall back into my trace and soon it feels as if hands are training along my back and around my waist. They are firm but gentle. Warm, I want to lean into the embrace. I want to feel every inch of this phantom person. So I do. I lean back into them, my back against their front. They're solid and strong, I feel... good. Their touch is nice. And they smell good too. Surely non-existent people don't have a smell?

I open my eyes and look down to see their hands planted fir and plant on my stomach. I can feel their face burying in the crook of my neck and their soft lips against my skin. I try to turn around, but they're so strong. Any attempt at movement is met with their strength. So I stop moving, and enjoy the attention.

Their nose drags along the nape of my neck until it reaches the side of my face, and their lips latch around my ear lobe. The fingers ding into my stomach and I fight back a moan. Fuck, no one has ever touched me like this. Not my ex or any of those boys from high school. No. Whoever this is, they're more than a boy. Much more. They know what they're doing. But so do I.

One of my hands reached up to grip the back of their head and pull them closer while the other slips down, finding its way to his pants and the bulge beneath. As I lay my palm on it, I can't help but open my eyes in surprise. This man is huge. Fuck me.

I rub my palm against him, feeling as he grows with each stroke. His moan of please purrs in my ears and I smile, pleased I'm affecting him just like he is me.

I want so badly to turn around and see his face, but as I try again he stops me. "Please." I beg. I don't really even know what I'm begging for at this point.

I keep rubbing them and they don't show any sign of wanting me to stop, that is until he suddenly grabs my wrist and yanks it away. Something about it gives me dejavu.

I frown, not wanting any of this to stop. "I need you." I say.

For a second I think I can hear a growl or something along those lines come from him. The vibrations of his chest against my back, make me ache with need.

"Please,"

"You don't know what you're asking for," They say. Their voice is deep, rich...familiar.

"I do," I say, desperation in my voice.

"How could I possibly deny such a gorgeous girl?"

And then he was gone.