615To Feel the Sun
by Aurette
Chapter Three
I smoothed down the shirt I was wearing, knowing I was going to look horribly out of place at the nightclub. Sarah had forced me into a black tank top, cut a bit too low for my tastes, and black pleather pants. I felt vaguely slutty, or rock star-ish. Not that those two are exactly mutually exclusive.
Sarah and I were in a cab on the way to the nightclub, Sarah chatting away on her cell phone, telling some friends of hers which club to meet us at. I wasn't the clubbing type, preferring instead to stay at home and read or write. But Sarah really wanted me to come along, and I had a hard time saying no to my twin sister. Sarah was dressed all trendy in a black miniskirt and a wild red and black top that was cut even lower than mine and was tied in the back, showing she wasn't wearing a bra. Sarah was so not the modest type. I guess she got over it with her twenty second costume changes backstage in front of the whole casts in various shows.
I absolutely refused to wear high heels if I was going to go dancing, so I was wearing boots. So was Sarah, but she had a four inch platform heel. I had no idea how she was going to be able to dance in those, but I said nothing, not even when she forced eyeliner, dark grey and black eyeshadow, and mascara onto me. I looked like a goth, minus the black lipstick and white foundation. Sarah just laughed at me, and pulled my hair back in a loose twist.
When we reached the nightclub, I paid the cab as Sarah finished talking to one of her friends. We hopped out of the car, and headed towards the line of people waiting to show IDs. It didn't take long for us to get through, but the bouncer gave Sarah and I suspicious looks after he handed back our ID. Okay, so we didn't look twenty-five or anything, but we certainly didn't look younger than twenty. At least Sarah didn't. Though she promised me that make up made me look my actual age, I still felt like I could pass for a few years younger than twenty-two. He finally let us in, and we squeezed through the doors into the pulsing, bass beat darkness. Black lights were situated everywhere, and I'm pretty sure everyone in there had at least ten glow sticks on their wrists and neck. I could tell a lot of girls, and probably some guys, had hair extensions specially made to be UV reactive so they could glow all the colors of the rainbow under the black lights. I could see a strobe blinking, and wondered vaguely if they had warnings to epileptics about that. There were a couple platforms where more people danced and gyrated to the music, usually the ones most outrageously outfitted in miniskirts, hair extensions, and tons of glow sticks. The bar was dimly lit, but it did have normal lights, for which I was thankful.
"Devon, Cassie, and Renee should be here already," Sarah yelled in my ear, dragging me by the hand towards the bar. I went along gratefully. Sarah, used to clubbing, zipped through the crush of people. I felt slightly out of place, as I wasn't in anything UV reactive, but then again, neither was Sarah.
When we got to the bar, I saw our friends. Devon, a tall, blue haired artsy guy who was into poetry and James Joyce, was drinking what I guessed to be a gin and tonic, and gesticulating wildly to red haired Cassie, who was smoking and looked unimpressed. Renee, the resident model, had a headful of blonde (natural) hair, blue eyes, and a killer body, was smiling indulgently at both of them. To tell the truth, I had met them all through Sarah, who was much more outgoing than I was when it came to making friends. I didn't mind so much. All three of them liked me as much as they liked Sarah, and I didn't feel self-conscious around them. Well, now I didn't. When I first met Devon at age sixteen, he freaked me out a little. Renee intimidated me, her already a successful model by our senior year of high school, but she warmed up to me rather quickly when she knew I wasn't a threat to her. And Cassie? Cassie, out of everyone, knew best my Eponine Complex. She had one of her own. On Devon. We had suspected he was gay, until he came to Renee in tears because he was totally out of Kristen Chenowith's league.
Though, considering this was after we saw Wicked (another perk of having a famous mother. Tickets to sold out shows), we still weren't quite sure that he wasn't.
"Sarah, Gracie!" Renee said, giving us each kisses on the cheek. "Devon's ranting about how Shakespeare's overrated."
"Again?" Sarah asked, nudging him in the ribs. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dev, you know that you'll never be that good. Not even Titus Andronicus level."
Devon made a hmmphing noise and sipped his drink. Sarah smiled at the bartender and ordered a cosmopolitan. "Anything for you, Gracie?" she asked. I shook my head. After my fiasco at Carlin's wedding, I decided to swear off on alcohol for awhile. Bad things tended to happen.
"You look down, love," Cassie said, her British accent soft but still clear. She'd moved to New York two years earlier after she graduated university and wanted to try her hand at working in the American publishing world. She was a copy editor for some big company, and kept trying to tell Devon that she had absolutely no sway with the acquisition editors, and that if he kept trying to give her his poetry and manuscripts she'd throw them in the dumpster.
I hopped up on the bar stool next to Cassie. "Carlin's wedding," I replied. She nodded knowingly.
Sarah downed her drink, a bit too fast, and grabbed Renee's arm to go to the dance floor. Devon trailed after them, knowing Cassie and I really didn't want to hear about his thoughts on Shakespeare. Cassie already had all the novels she could take from work, and I knowing more about literature than Devon ever did. Creative Writing Majors who focused on poetry from little colleges in the middle of Kansas weren't exactly worth much against my NYU Literature major.
Cassie looked after Devon, yearning obvious in her eyes. I probably looked that lame at Carlin's wedding, so I wasn't about to say anything. "Why don't you go out there with them and dance with him?" I asked.
Cassie snorted, and shook her head. "And then have him go off and dance with some chick with an actual interest in poetry? I bet he's reciting The Soul in Your Eyes to some girl right now."
"Over that?" I exclaimed, pointing at the speakers. It was quieter back here by the bar, but not by much. The electronica they were playing was rather pervasive.
"You know him."
I had to admit she was right. Devon wasn't exactly suave. He was so the type to recite his crappy poetry to some girl he met at a pseudo-rave club over generic dance beats.
"Sarah!" A loud voice cut through said generic dance beats. I glanced over, expecting a guy to go running towards the crush of dancers, but no, a figure was hurrying over towards me. A very familiar figure, with bleached blonde hair.
I groaned and dropped my head on the bar.
"Sarah?" The voice was questioning this time. Cassie poked me in the ribs, and I answered with a groan.
"What is he doing here."
"Let me guess. I got the wrong sister again. You know, I'm of a mind to go back to my second impression of you."
I lifted my head, and glanced at Cello Guy. I couldn't remember what Sarah told me his name was. "Second?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
"First impression was sad, tragically beautiful girl," Cello Guy said, in this totally mocking voice. "Second was that you're a heinous bitch. Third was that maybe you weren't so bad, if your sister could be believed. But I can see my second impression must be the most accurate, if you can't even attempt to be nice."
"The same goes for you, asshole," I said, glaring at him. I twisted around on the bar stool so I didn't have to look over my shoulder. "Calling someone a heinous bitch doesn't put you in line for the Nobel Peace Prize."
"Bloody hell," Cassie muttered. "And I thought my parents were bad."
"Look, I was totally willing to give you a second chance, miss bitchy britches, but by your initial reaction to me, you weren't willing to do the same."
I rolled my eyes. I may be shy sometimes, but if someone is antagonistic enough, of course I'm going to rise to the occasion. "Whatever, dude. Go off and play with your little cello and leave me the hell alone."
"Gladly," he spat out. "Where's your sister?"
"Dancing," Cassie answered, before I could come up with a scathing enough reply. "With a blue haired guy and Renee Jameson, the model."
Cello Guy raised an eyebrow, but thanked her and hurried out to the dance floor.
"Woah," Cassie chuckled. She turned to me. "You two are totally hot for each other."
I didn't even reply to that. Instead, I turned towards the bartender and ordered a Mai Tai. I wasn't quite to the point where I wanted shots, but I was close. At least it'd be tasty.
"I'm just saying," she continued, as if I had said something. "I know you're all in love with Carlin, but you should totally go for this guy."
"Why would I want to go for a guy who thinks I'm a heinous bitch?" I asked, sipping at my drink.
"Because he's totally into you, he just doesn't want to admit it. By the looks of his clothes, he's not exactly made of money, and by the looks of your clothes, and the fact that you were a guest at the reception, you are. So he thinks your a bitch out of his league." I didn't ask her how she knew he was at the reception. No doubt Sarah had already filled her in on all the gossip. I didn't mind. I would have told Cassie myself, eventually.
"Why would he be into me?" I asked. "If he thinks I'm a heinous bitch who believes she's out of his league?"
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Cassie asked. "Or even looked at Sarah. Well, you're technically not identical, as you so insistently proclaim, but you two look incredibly similar."
"You're insane," I replied. "If he's smart, he wouldn't be into a chick who insulted him to his face, twice."
"Maybe he wants to believe his first and third impressions," Cassie said, with a smirk. She was getting a kick out of this. "First impressions stick."
"Yes, but it also sticks when said chick insults him."
Cassie shrugged. "Take it or leave it, but maybe you should be nice to him and see how he reacts." At my harsh look, she waved her hands. "I'm not saying take him home and ravish him. Just be nice. Doesn't hurt to be nice."
"I know, intellectually, that you're right." I shook my head and downed the rest of my Mai Tai. I debated on whether to order another one. If I did, I'd be tipsy for sure. I instead settled for a glass of water. "But to be honest? He totally rubs me the wrong way."
"Well," Cassie said, that smirk deepening to downright wicked. "At least he rubs you, ay?"
Screw water. I was going straight for the whiskey.
Okay, so I didn't get as drunk as I did at Carlin's wedding. I'd learned my lesson. And it wasn't like I was some lush. But I was buzzed enough to throw my usual inhibitions to the wind. Or at least enough to dance with some guy with a fifteen facial piercings and wearing green hot pants and a cropped tank top that showed his flat, but hairy stomach.
Sarah took pictures with her cell phone, and I knew somewhere in the back of my fuzzy head that they were going to be prominently displayed on Facebook the next day.
So much for future employment in a small, respectable college English department.
Cello guy was hanging around, but he danced mostly with Sarah and some other raver chicks who probably were dying for some ecstasy right about then. He looked as uncomfortable as I usually was in such a situation, but I wasn't about to speak to him, even to mock him.
After a couple hours, the music seemed to slow down pretty suddenly. I wasn't sure of the exact length of time, as not only was I tipsy, but I got so into the dancing that the last thing I cared about was the passage of time. I looked around, feeling a bit sheepish for dancing crazy with people I didn't know, and turned to head towards the bar. I needed more water, at least to help me sober up a bit. Coffee would be better, but I knew better than to ask here.
"Gracie!" Sarah called, and grabbed my arm. "Dance with Simon, he's too weirded out to ask a girl himself." She pushed me backwards, and I stumbled into a guy, who just managed to catch me before my jelly knees gave out. Sarah disappeared, and turned to look up into this Simon's face.
The name clicked as I stared up at Cello Guy. I probably would have blushed, but I'm sure my face was red from being tipsy already. "Sorry," I muttered, and started to move away. But my stupid knees had other plans. They gave out, and I went diving for the floor.
"Woah!" I heard someone shout, and braced myself for impact with the floor. It didn't happen. I looked up to see Simon holding me in his arms, looking a bit shocked. Either by my slightly inebriated state, or the fact that he'd actually tried to save me from being hurt.
He lifted me to standing position, and I leaned against him, with a giggle. "Thanks," I said, lifting my arms to wrap around his neck. "You heard Sarah."
He took my arms from his shoulders, and placed them at my side. "You don't want to dance with me, you're just tipsy," he said, annoyed. Ah, yes. That was more like him.
"Well, duh." I giggled again. "But what's the point of getting tipsy if you don't do something stupid?"
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Last time you were tipsy you made it quite clear what you thought of me."
"Ah, but last time I was tipsy was at the wedding of the love of my life, to someone else. Of course I was going to be a heinous bitch to some weirdo."
Simon's other brow raised, and I giggled again.
"Love of your life? You mean, Carlin Thompson?"
I sneared at him. "No, Danielle," I replied, scathingly.
When he still looked surprised, I rolled my eyes. "Of course Carlin, you moron."
"So you're in love with that rich asshole who wouldn't even tip?"
"It was his wedding, he was probably already paying you a shit load to play there," I defended, my words slurring a bit. I fought for control of my tongue. I wasn't that drunk.
Simon shook his head. "Rich people really have no concept of the real world, do they?" He said, more to himself than to me.
"Way to go and wash us all with a stereotype. You wear your hair in bleach spikes, so you must be a Billy Idol fan."
Simon wrinkled his nose. I don't know whether it was the Billy Idol thing, or that I was calling him out on his hypocrisy. I may have been tipsy, but I wasn't stupid.
I turned to go back to the bar, when he caught my arm. "What is it with everyone today?" I asked no one in particular.
"Grace, we got off on the wrong foot," he said. His expression told me he would rather eat lead paint than say what he was saying to me. "I promise to be nice if you promise to be nice."
"Didn't your mother ever tell you to not make promises you can't keep?" I asked, pulling my arm from his grasp.
He didn't reply, so I just shrugged. "Whatever. I'll try not to be a bitch to you next time I see you, but if you're so much as rude to me I won't hesitate. I really don't like you, and that's unusual because I'm usually an amiable person. But you just... piss me off."
"Likewise," he muttered under his breath.
I nodded, and strode off towards the bar. I was happy that I was drunk enough to weave around in a stupor. I made it to a stool, where Sarah was making out with some pretty guy with hair longer than mine. Cassie was looking on, amused. Renee and Devon were nowhere to be seen.
"Tell her, when she comes up for air, that I went home," I said to Cassie. She nodded, and sipped at her drink with a knowing smile on her face. "See you later."
I went out, hailed a cab, and wished, not for the first time, that Sarah hadn't dragged me out to be social. She meant well. But it always ended with her sucking the face off of some guy and me going home alone to brood in the darkness.
Only this time, I told myself I wasn't going to brood. I wasn't going to feel sorry for myself that Carlin had married someone else and I'd have to watch him love her, and I wasn't going to be annoyed with Simon the Cello Playing Asshole, or that I couldn't move on from him.
Tonight, I was going to go to bed, and actually fall asleep, or die trying.
Three hours, a bar of chocolate, and depressed Facebook creeping later, I looked at the clock, noted Sarah wasn't home, and then looked at the picture of Carlin, Sarah, and I at a Christmas party at my grandparent's house in upstate New York.
"Dammit."
Author's Note: And Chapter 3! Sarah amuses me. So does Devon It's going to be interesting when Carlin and Danielle come back on their honeymoon, which should be in the next chapter. I also really like writing about Jonah, so he should be appearing again soon.
Let me know what you think!