13 - bad girls do it well

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As you might have guessed, Upper East Siders, prohibition never stood a chance against exhibition. And no matter how long you try to be good, you cant keep a bad girl down.

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"Where are we going?" I ask monotonously, my head leaned against the car window, watching the city pass me by.

"Clubbing," Holden responds. I frown. I don't want him to take me home, but I definitely don't want to go clubbing either. Really, I just want to take a long, hot shower.

"Holden--," I start, turning slightly towards him.

"It'll be fun," he interrupts. "If you're not having fun within the first 15 minutes, we'll leave."

I sigh, but dont argue, though I know I should.

"Besides, we always have fun together," he says matter-of-factly.

I scoff. "Not always."

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, but stays silent.

Holden parks in front of a building that people stumble out of in drunken happiness. You can hear the music from the car, and though New York is cold as hell in November, no one is dressed like it. I blend into the scene with my black leather leggings, and a white plunge haltered crop top that would shown an excessive amount of cleavage if it werent for the lacey black bralette underneath.

Holden jumps out of the car and begins joggjng around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows and hop out before his hand hits the door handle.

He frowns at me and closes my door.

"You make it really hard to be a gentlemen," he says as we get in line at the clubs entfance.

"I dont make it hard, your jerk personality does. Besides, I can open my own door."

Holden narrows his eyes at me. "Is that any way to talk to someone that's about to get you into a club for free, without an ID?"

I roll my eyes but watch, impressed as the bouncer takes one look at Holden and then waves us both through.

I've never seen the inside of a club until now. It's crowded and loud, but the energy is exciting.

"Come on," Holden says, moving to put his hand on my back, but placing it on my forearm instead. I hope he doesn't start acting weird around me and thinking of me as this fragile little girl. I've had enough of that for a lifetime.

"Maybe we should put her in therapy."

"What if talking about it makes it worse? I dont want her reliving that."

My parents turn and look at me sadly from where I sit on the couch. My mother's face is red and puffy from crying. My father's eyes are red. But I havent cried in 3 days. I havent even spoken. I can't.

Do they think I can't hear them? Maybe they know I can, and they just want me to react and tell them what I want. They know thats not happening.

I follow Holden up some steps to an upper level secured by a velvet rope and another security guard who lets us through after a quick glance at Holden and his hand on my arm.

There's only about 6 people up here but Holden immedately recognizes 2 of them.

"Holden!" A girl ethrealy pretty with tan skin like mine, long thick black hair and green eyes, hugs him and i chew on my bottom lip.

"Hey," he greets her and the guy beside her with shaggy, short brown her and a drink in his hand.

"This is--"

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