Ferrari (Completed)

Heat: 3

The sound of Rihanna's voice booms through the room, spreading out over the dance floor and towards the bar. It's the perfect volume—loud enough to dance to, but low enough so others can talk. The bar is full of chatter. There are groups of people all over the place, probably trying to make conversation about their boring Wall Street jobs.

The dance floor is mostly empty, but I'm not surprised. Businesspeople hate dancing. They must think they're too rich for it, or something else just as pretentious.

They're all douchey, cocaine-snorting, designer-suit-wearing, assholes. They make too much money, have far too much power, and probably commit fraud on the daily.

"Is your boy coming tonight?" Ari asks.

"Who?" I frown.

"Brad."

"Oh," I shake my head. "He's not my boy."

"He's not?" she raises her eyebrows in disbelief, clearly skeptical about my response. "Who is he then?"

"He's just... Brad."

"The guy you hook up with every week?"

"Yes," I fight the urge to smile, unable to deny how ridiculous it sounds. "We're just friends."

"Yeah," she scoffs. "Friends who fuck."

"You're just jealous cause she's getting some, and you're not," Mary taunts, a teasing smirk on her face.

"Bitch, if anyone's not getting any, it's you," Ari defends. "It must be all dried up down there, like a fucking desert or some shit."

"Hey!" she protests. "I've had a couple one night stands. Besides, I'm going through a breakup, okay? Cut me some slack."

"You broke up, like, a year ago!"

"That's nowhere near as long as it took Lucy."

"Don't bring me into this," I object, but it's no use.

"That's true," Ari scoffs, an amused smile pulling at her lips. "I swear, she still dreams about he-who-shall-not-be-named."

"I do not!"

"Probably," Mary laughs. "I mean, you've had like... three girlfriends since high school and Lucy's still single."

"I'm not single! I have Brad."

"I thought you said you were just friends?" Ari uses my own words against me.

"Yeah," I nod. "Friends who fuck. You said so yourself."

"So... you are single?"

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't mean I'm still hung up on you-know-who."

I refuse to say his name. I can't do it. It gives me this weird feeling inside—the same antsy sensation I feel when I'm about to have a panic attack. It's anxiety.

At least those days are behind me. I haven't had a panic attack in forever. I don't remember when the last time was. I still get anxious, but it's bearable. Nowhere near as bad as it used to be.

I don't exactly know what changed. It was in the first semester of my senior year. Liam, Kal, and Mary were off in New York, and Ari and Brit had just broken up. I was still recovering from the whole Oliver situation. I kept my head down in school and stayed by Ari's side. I would see Kal as much as I could. We really bonded that year. As soon as Oliver left, Kal and I grew closer.

And then one day, I just hardened up. I was sick of crying. I was sick of being a sad, nervous, wreck. I just wanted to live my life again, without the constant feeling of anxiety bubbling in the pit of my stomach.