Carolina and The Fan Non-fiction | H.S

Fourteen

"Nice to see you coming with us Townes," he said, his voice distinctly tenor and smooth and British.

"Just wanted to check out the party life around Zach," I replied, smiling.

We descend to the first floor, exiting the building to find Bryon parked in front.

"Yes Vivien! I can see those fierce boots from here!" she yelled upon rolling her window down.

"You look gorgeous Bry," I complemented back, finally seeing her outfit as we walked closer. She wore a beautiful low-neckline silver top tucked in black skirt, probably coordinated with the black coat draped on her seat.

I hear her utter a thanks as I take the backseat while Zach takes the passenger seat in front. I bite down a teasing smile as he plants a kiss on her forehead.

Bryon begins driving again. She takes a turn away from ol' Café Romano towards Russell Square, then another turn into Bedford Way. She stops the engine in front of Bloomsbury Mansions, the first building in the block.

"Pre-drinks are inside, let's go!" she announced.

We all step out of the vehicle, gripping our jackets and coats over the seeping of cold. We enter the building, taking an elevator to the third floor. Down the hallway, I notice that we were walking towards this thunder of club beats. We stop in front of, I assume, Gracie's flat. It is confirmed with her bubbly smile ushering us inside, the sound of Major Lazer in blast.

"Gracie! You've been having fun without us, haven't you?" Bryon said on behalf of us three noticing a half-empty Beefeater pink gin.

"It's just a glass Bry," she defended. "By the way don't you all look totally lush tonight. Bry, this is a Paris Hilton moment right here. Vivien, baby, this style screams fashion week. And Zach, dapper with the clean shave."

Gracie is an Arts and Media Management student, on her year 2, and is excited by anything in the lines of design and style. She's a wavy-bobbed brunette with striking bangs just above her light brown eyes.

"You look lush yourself Gracie, as usual," Bryon said. She was right. Gracie always wore things really good, even on school days, to match her gorgeousness. Today, her style is only more apparent. She is donning a faux leather dress with a thigh-high slit on the side and ankle boots with square heels that are taller than both mine and Bryon's.

"Okay, enough with the admirations, let's get the pregaming going!" Gracie cheered, giving each of us a glass on which she poured the other half of her pink gin. She fills each near the brim, except Zach who decided he will be the designated driver and will try to keep himself sober.

An hour goes by without realizing. All of us engage in conversation about our lives before college and during. We got excited over a cute guy sending a snap to Gracie. We opened the message together like a birthday gift. Then, we helped her navigate the conversation with him. And now we're on our way to The Montague with a meetup with Nate—the guy from Gracie's snap—awaiting her.

We made it swiftly inside, my worry over IDs getting checked slipping away unknowingly. I guess they don't do those things over this side of the world.

The Montague was big. Interestingly, it has a contrast of black and white, with black concentrated on the dancefloor. Everything was lit with neon lights. Even the cocktail bar table itself and the stools have blue and red radiating off of them. I blink away the thought of Barbican's own neons.

The beat was hitting so hard, I feel my heart pound along. The festivity is definitely on the roll, with everyone busy having their fun in welcoming the weekends. We find our corner in a round leather couch. Zach offers to buy the first round of shots.