What's for Breakfast?

Seven: Treat Him Better

Derek miraculously finds a parking spot, which is a bit far from the club we're going to, but it's BGC on a Friday night. I'll say we're lucky.

Cathy and Sandy walk side by side, while I walk with Bea. Derek trails behind, though he keeps a pretty good distance from us. I guess he knows the unspoken rules of a girls' night.

I appreciate him driving us there; it's only weird because he's... Like my chaperone. Like his purpose is to watch over me.

We enter a popular and expensive nightclub, smelling like sweat, booze, and cigarette smoke mixed together, irritating my nose slightly. We slip in among the crowd, unintentionally bumping into people who are dancing to the loud music from the enormous stereos scattered all over the floor and the ceiling. It's dark; green, red, and blue strobe lights bounce from wall to wall. Bea grasps my hand, and the four of us make our way and find a spot in the corner, a bit far from the dance floor. The table we find is cluttered with empty beer cans and unfinished snacks, but Cathy quickly arranges for a server to clean up.

My eyes scan the place. I suddenly can't see Derek.

My phone beeps. It's a text from him. He says to call in case we want to leave or if anything happens. I reply with a yes, thanks. He replies with a wink. I guess he won't be my chaperone after all.

"Want a drink?!" Sandy asks, yelling.

"Huh?!"

"A drink!"

This is what I don't like about loud places. I can't hear anything properly. And tomorrow, I'll probably lose my voice.

"Yes, whisky please!" I answer.

We start drinking. It's been a while since I've drunk alcohol, so the scorching feeling on my tongue and throat gets me coughing. One glass turns into two, and so on. Sandy and Bea leave to hit the dance floor after a couple of vodka shots, leaving me and a slightly tipsy Cathy at the table.

"So, you guys look alright!"

"What?! What do you mean?!"

"It seems like you and Derek are finally getting along!"

I allow myself to smile. "Cathy! We're adults! It's about time!"

She pouts. "Is that it?!"

"Yeah! What else?!"

She scoffs. "Ah! Boring! But I think he agreed to come because we said we're getting you drunk!"

"What?! What are you saying?!"

"Well! We tipped him off that we're getting you wasted tonight because you're sad that you're single!" She laughs hysterically, taking another sip.

I flinch. "I'm not sad! What are you saying?!"

"That's not the point-!"

Sandy and Bea come back all of a sudden, so our conversation ends. The two drag us to the dance floor with them. It's so crowded, and also very hot, with patrons dancing as if nobody's watching. I shake my body to the tune, still holding onto my third glass of whisky, so it doesn't come as a surprise when I spill some of it on my hand and my top.

"Oh damn!" I exclaim, shaking my fingers dry. "I'll be right back!"

I finish my glass as I merge into the throngs of people. I put the glass on our table, then I walk to the washroom, my head throbbing a little. I queue behind a tall girl with red, spiky hair.

As I wait, I bob my head to the music, my gaze scanning the club once again. That's when I spot Derek sitting near the bartender. Squinting to see through the blurry vision and intermittent obstructions, I notice he's sipping on a soda. I chuckle to myself, finding it amusing.