Beastly • H.S

~Three~

Not edited

"I'm gonna go get a drink, I'll be right back!" Stan shouts over the music playing loudly in the club. I nod my head and watch him disappear into the crowds of sweaty people. I let my eyes wander to the people dancing on the floor. A girl, maybe a couple years older than me, grinds onto an older man that looks like he's in his thirties as he grips her hips from behind and pushes her flush against himself. I frown in disgust and shake my head slightly. She's probably barely at the legal age to drink and she's getting filled up by a man that could be her father.

I rip my eyes away from the girl and man and focus on the span of people having a good time and drinking their worries away. I feel out of place here, like I don't belong. I was never a huge fan on drinking, let alone being in a large room filled with drunk, sweat sheened bodies that want nothing more than to have a hangover the next morning.

I maneuver my way through the crowds, the smell of alcohol flooded the whole place making me want to put on a surgical mask and spray the room down with febreeze. I could even smell a mixture of sweat and cheap perfumes as I walked and bumped into multiple people who just merely turned their heads to give me a quick glance before going back to dancing.

My feet finally take me to the bar and I prop myself up on one of the high cushioned stools. I look at the heads sitting at the bar and notice that none of them are Stan.

My eyebrows etch together and a small frown tugs at the corners of my lips. He said he was getting a drink. Where is he?

I close my eyes briefly in slight agitation that he isn't where he said he'd be and open them up. I face forward and set my hands on the top of the bar, playing with my fingernails out of boredom.

Why did I even come here? I knew I shouldn't have came, but I always do in the end. When Stan wants to go on a fling because of a recent breakup or he's had a bad day, or even if he just feels like it, he'll ask me to go to a club or some party/drinking place and 'have fun' with him. I mean, he's my best friend; I can't say no to him and let him go all by himself, he'll end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

So, no, this isn't my first time at a club and I'm sure, unfortunately, that it's not my last time either.

"Hello, pretty thing" I turn my head to a man sitting next to me. His dark eyes meeting mine in a slurred stare.

"Hi" I give him a quick smile and go back to playing with my nails. The way that he just called me 'pretty thing' gives me a weird vibe.

"Shy?" He asks and I look at him to see he has an eye quirked at me and a smirk on his lips. He turns to the bartender and raises his hand at him.

"Two beers," he tells the girl and she gives him a smooth nod before fixing two glasses that were filled to the brim with alcohol.

"I don't drink," I tell him, looking at the beers placed in front of him.

"Who said they were for you?" He quizzes. I shake my head quickly, flustered at his question and slightly embarrassed at the fact that I thought he was gonna buy me a drink. I look away from him and out to the dancing bodies, desperately wanting to go home now.

"I'm kidding, here" the man chuckles and slides a glass over to me.

"I said, I don't drink." I tell him again and shove it towards him.

"Oh c'mon, don't make me waste it." He whines playfully and pushes it towards me again.

"That's on you, I didn't ask you to buy me a drink." I retort and he laughs.

"Can't you accept the offer? I'm trying my best over here," he chuckles and I can see a tinge of pink make its way to his cheeks.

"Trying your best on what?" I ask.