Twice The Trouble Book 2 of 2: Twice The Love

Chapter 30: Bumping Into An Ex

Bryce

"I told you to take a fucking U-turn!" barked Dylan from the backseat.

"And I said I know a shortcut so shut up!" I snapped, my hands gripping the steering wheel.

Next to Dylan, my brother washed his hands along his face, clearly agitated but kept silent.

"You idiots wouldn't listen to me when we passed that intersection," growled Jerry from the third row of my black 2017 Ford SUV.

Noah, sitting across Jeff and Jerry in the very back row, was sound asleep ever since we got on the road.

"We've been driving for fifty minutes!" roared Jeff in exasperation. "Bryce, just pull over and--"

"Correction: I'VE been driving for fifty minutes," I cut him off tetchily. "And we're not asking for directions so just stay in your seat,all of you!" I swiftly veered to the right, avoiding a pothole.

Jeff's jaw dropped open. "Did you just give me an order?"

Twenty minutes and fifty insults later, I finally parked in front of Time, the popular underground nightclub. Even from outside we could hear Darren E. singing "Domino" followed by the boisterous applause of young people, a combo of howls and catcalls.

"This feels like a bad idea," said who else but my conservative brother?

I slung an arm over my twin's tense shoulder. "Dude, you need to unwind,at least for one night. You've been trapped in that cavernous office for weeks," I pointed out. "Sophia would want you to have fun every now and then." I know, I know. Pulling the Girlfriend Card was low but if there was one person who could persuade Lucas into doing crazy stuff, it would be the love of his life.

His words, not mine.

The tension seemed to flood out of Lucas's body when he heard his girlfriend's name. "Yeah,okay," he finally conceded.

Selena

"What do you think you're staring at, huh?" Stacy hiccuped, glaring up at the poor male bartender. "Is this the first time you've seen a drunk model? There's a difference between model and supermodel, you know. That's right, I'm knowledgeable." Stacy's was slurring her words. "Just because I'm a blonde doesn't make me dumb, you insensitive prick. Now get me more tequila!"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but we're out of stock," said August--according to his name tag. He was obviously lying but I couldn't blame him. My best friend was completely wasted.

"Then get me rum! Vodka, Sangria, or Whiskey! I don't give a damn! Just get me alcohol!"

"Ace, tell us what's bothering you," Miles pleaded after yelling at everyone to scram when she saw multiple people start to record Stacy's drunkenness with their phones.

"Nothing is bothering me! Everything's peachy! My life is just fucking perfect!" she burped.

I face-palmed. I knew something happened when our fair-haired friend went to the comfort room. Whatever it was upset Stacy to the point of drowning herself in liquor.

Knowing that we couldn't stop her from doing what she wanted, Miles and I automatically chose to guard Stacy for the rest of the night. She couldn't handle alcohol. The first time she tasted it was without her consent. Three years ago, when she was sixteen, she had been drugged and raped and we just assumed that would be the end of her involvement with alcohol.

But she didn't get pregnant because of that, Thank God.

However, the rumors in high school insisted otherwise.

And a year after that incident.. that was another story.

Back in high school, Stacy once asked me if I thought she attracted trouble, or if trouble just naturally found her, or was it a part of her that liked creating trouble despite not liking the consequences?

I never gave her an answer.I simply chalked it up to unfortunate circumstances.

"Fuck," I cursed when I saw a group of handsome guys enter the energetic club.

Miles followed my gaze. "What--Shit," she cussed beneath her breath.

We hastily tried to wake up Stacy, who was half-asleep on the counter, surrounded by empty flutes and bottles of Tequila and tipped-over shot glasses, her head buried into her folded arms.

"Ace. Ace, wake up," I hissed at her impassive condition. I frantically hit her bare arms to gauge a reaction.

Stacy stirred, her sky blue eyes droopy and devoid of emotion. "What?" she slurred.

"Your asshole of an ex-boyfriend is here!" I whispered in alarm. Oh God, this wasn't how girls should be seen by their former lovers--Wallowing in despair and cornered by shot glasses.

Blearily and slowly, Stacy lifted her head before stretching her long, bare arms. "Which one?" her voice was uneven, her whole face dim and sleepy. "They were all assholes, except for Dylan and Alexis."

Miles was already grasping Stacy's glittery purse, rummaging for her cosmetics.

Stacy said seriously: "Alright, let's make this quick. Len, grab my shoulders."

I hurriedly complied. I held her by both her shoulders and made her face Miles.

Without question, Miles raised both hands and slapped Stacy on her left cheek. Hard. Followed by a second slap on the right cheek with the same force.

"Lips," Stacy uttered, to which Miles responded by slicking on lip gloss across Stacy's lips.

Miles flipped open our friend's compact mirror, then she applied powder on the model's face, expertly covering up the red flush Stacy had gained from drinking alcohol.

It took only five seconds to finish Stacy's new glow-up. It was like she never took a sip of tequila in her life. Her sky blue eyes glimmered with a fiery determination, her back straightened, a confident smile playing on her shiny, moist lips.

"Okay, you bitches know the ex-alert drill, right?" she asked us.

"Like second nature," I replied before giving out a roar of laughter, effectively collecting the attention of almost everyone at the club---including Stacy's ex and his five friends.

Miles and I made wild gestures and wore wide smiles on our faces while we focused on Stacy,who was sandwiched between us at the bar.

Stacy giggled into her fist, bowing her head, her smile so big, her eyes formed rainbows. "Is he looking?" she whispered without moving her head.

Miles murmured: "He just rose from his table."

I continued the narration: "He's fixing his hair. Give him hell, Ace."

"Stacy? Is that you?" came a male voice from behind us.

Stacy simply looked over her bare shoulder, then she glanced up at the newcomer, her flawless face blank and innocent.

A warm smile stretched her lips. "Oliver Aragon."