The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(16)
Author: J.C. Reed

“What’s the password?” one of the five bouncers asked. He was a big man with greased hair and the most menacing expression I had ever seen. I swallowed hard and looked at Gina, inwardly praying she wouldn’t remember.

“You’ll never see it coming, Lewis,” Gina said, unfazed, playing with her butterfly necklace. “Tonight I’ll hook up with a hairy guy with large feet and small hands, get his number, then call him next week to tell him he has to go in for STD tests.”

“That’s harsh.” To my surprise, the bouncer chuckled and, with a wink at Gina, he let us in for free.

“What was that?” I asked, confused, as we descended the stairs into what looked like a basement. “Was that the password?”

“There is no a password.” She looked at me and grimaced. “Lewis and I go way back. It’s just an inside joke we’ve had going on forever.”

I nodded knowingly, even though I had no idea what she was talking about.

Eventually, we reached a dark corridor and moved past black curtains into a crowded room with silver lights that sent a sharp pain through my eyes. I closed them for a moment, unable to suppress a shiver. Slowly, I opened my eyes again and let them adjust as I took in my surroundings.

“Oh, my god,” I exclaimed in horror.

The whole place was dark and hot, with no windows and no visible exits. Like the outside, the walls were painted a gloomy black. It was so hot and stuffy that I figured whoever owned the club must have installed heaters in the corners, probably to entice thirst so their clientele would buy more drinks. The walls looked shabby, and the whole place was in desperate need of some interior design. The tables and chairs were scratched and probably would have benefited from some scrubbing. I didn’t want to sit down, let alone touch anything.

“It’s awesome, right?” Thalia gushed, pointing to the stripper poles in the corners, where anyone bold enough was allowed to show off their abilities—or lack thereof. Judging from their awkward moves, the dancers were far from being professionals. “Everyone here’s single, which is why they encourage rubbing up against anyone you like to see if they like you back.” As though that was a good thing, she grinned at me and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“No.” I shook my head slowly, fighting hard to stifle the onset of hysteria at the back of my throat. “I meant…Oh, my god. How awful,” I murmured, unable to peel my eyes off the people dancing and making out in what looked like a huge pool, their bodies and clothes covered in foam.

I had heard of foam parties and had seen them on television, but I had never realized they actually existed and that they could be so wild. The people were uninhibited and probably intoxicated—and many of them were almost naked.

Someone bumped into me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and moved aside, only to slam into someone else.

Small rivulets of sweat began to trickle down my spine, both from the lack of space and from the stuffy air. I tied my hair behind my back and started to fan my burning face with my hand.

“Hey, Gina. Get those drinks,” Thalia said. As soon as Gina was gone, she turned to me with a frown on her face. “You’re not going to pass out, are you?”

“What?” I stared at her. “No, I’m fine.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about trying to find someone. I still remember how you looked when I picked up from Central Park. You didn’t seem to be in a good place. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you had been crying your heart out over a guy.”

The image of Jett with Tiffany flashed through my mind, leaving a sharp stab of pain in its wake. I cringed inwardly. “Was it that obvious?”

She shrugged, as though it didn’t matter either way. “No, but I’m used to seeing girls in your state of mind. Plus, you told me you were trying to move on from an ex and all that crap, so I figured out the rest. This might not be the most obvious place to visit after a breakup, but it’s a lot of fun getting to know someone new, as long as you know what you’re looking for.” Her gaze lingered on a nearby couple, their bodies intertwined in a slow dance.

“I suppose so,” I muttered and looked up to see Gina snaking her way toward us, balancing three pink-colored, and sugar-rimmed drinks decorated with sparkly straws and little umbrellas.

“They have the best cocktails in town.” She handed each of us a glass, keeping one for herself, then continued to gush about the place. I eyed my drink warily, my brain struggling to come up with a good excuse to order my own.

“Drink up,” Gina said, waiting for me to take a sip. “You’ll need it when we go hunting for a guy.”

To drink or not to drink? The question was a no-brainer. If I refused, I’d have to come up with an excuse. While I liked Gina and Thalia, I still didn’t trust them enough to reveal my pregnancy, and I certainly didn’t want to feel like the oddball of the group, the third wheel. I wanted to have fun, like a real New Yorker. I didn’t want life to grip and hold me; I wanted to grip life and make it mine.

I lifted the glass and admired the beautiful pink liquid and sparkling granules of grenadine sugar around the rim. I took a sip and winced when the strong, sweet flavor hit my taste buds. It was delicious, leaving a sweet and tangy grapefruit zest behind—so delicious that I simply had to take another sip.

I didn’t know if it was the atmosphere or the drink, but within a few minutes, the blood in my veins began to rush, my body growing lighter, until I felt like I was floating in midair. Usually, a drink or two didn’t make me giddy and certainly not drunk, but I felt different this time, alive and excited—as if every fiber of my being wanted to move, dance, and act crazy. Even though I was scared of heights in any form, I felt as though I could jump off a cliff and into cold water, which I attributed to the alcohol mingling with my pregnancy hormones in a strange way.

”What is this stuff?” I held my glass up to Gina while continuing to sway to the rhythm of the music. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, as if the music inspired my body to be harmonious. Surreal happiness at the thought that I was young and ready to take on the world surged through me, a kind of blissfulness I had never felt before.

“My own personalized pink puddle drink,” Gina said proudly. “It’s my favorite. You want another one?”

Definitely not, but she was gone before I had a chance to stop her. It didn’t take her long to return with another round of glasses, insisting that she show us the rest of the club. While I was reluctant to take another sip, the heat was slowly getting to me. I was thirsty and covered in a layer of sweat. Without Gina’s noticing, I put down my first, half-full glass and took another one from her outstretched hand.