15 - NIGHTCLUB

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Alora Lin

"Cheers! To my best friend and her last few weeks of freedom!"

Padma threw her head back in laughter as we clinked our glasses.

The music was so loud to the point where I could feel it booming within my chest. Red lights flashed throughout the room, creating an ominous yet sensual feeling.

"A bachelorette party in an underground nightclub," Padma sighed, putting down her glass. "Really fits me, doesn't it?"

"For sure," I beamed, pouring her another shot.

Padma had invited a few other friends to her bachelorette party whom she'd met through Dylan and work, but they all left after dinner, leaving Padma and I to be the only ones heading over to the nightclub.

"I'm not drunk enough for this shit," Padma remarked, glancing over at the back corner where stripper poles scattered the dance floor.

Men were sitting in chairs, stuffing dollar bills in women's bras and underwear as they grinded on them.

"How come there aren't any male strip clubs around here?" she questioned.

"Because the world is misogynistic as shit," I groaned, throwing back another shot. "People only ever see us as objects."

Padma scoffed, "You can say that again."

The two of us continued downing shots, desperate to get drunk enough so that we could put aside our worries for the night and let loose for once. I had lost count of how many I'd taken by the time I tried to gulp another shot and nearly threw it back up.

"Okay," I winced. "That's enough for me."

"Same here," Padma exclaimed.

The two of us stumbled out of our seats and started waddling towards the middle of the dance floor.

"Hey!" Padma drunkenly shouted over the music, pulling me closer to her. "Make sure I don't grind on anyone or else Dylan won't be happy!"

"You got it!" I laughed, intertwining our fingers as we started jumping up and down to the music.

The short, bodycon dress I was wearing hugged my curves so tightly that there was barely any room left to move. Yet I was so drunk that I didn't even bother trying to pull my dress down when it kept riding up my thighs.

Whenever someone came up behind me and placed their hands on my waist, Padma would forcefully yank me into her chest, holding me tight against her as she flipped them off. And I, of course, would do the same for her.

It was around the time when my feet were starting to ache from my high heels that I asked her if we could take a break. Normally, being drunk minimizes the pain, but I had been holding it in for so long that the pain was now excruciating.

Padma and I collapsed on a sofa by the stripper poles, far away from the sweaty people that were crowding the dance floor.

"You ready to call it a night?" I asked her.

She shook her head slowly, "Not really. Once we leave this club, everything becomes more real."

I turned towards her, placing my hand on top of hers, "Look... Marriage is hard, but I know you and Dylan will be able to take on anything that comes your way."

"Thank you, babe," she smiled, resting her other hand on top of mine. "The closer we get to our wedding, the more unprepared I feel. For fuck's sake, I'm not ready to be a wife, I'm not gonna be a good enough mom, I–"

"Hey, hey, hey," I scooted closer to her, giving her a one-armed hug and letting her rest her head on my shoulder. "You're going to be the most amazing wife and mother anyone could have ever asked for. I've known you for practically half of my life. Your future family is going to be lucky as hell to have you."

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