THIRTEEN: It's Harlan. With A Woman On His Arm

My thoughts are interrupted by Rose yanking my door open so forcefully it makes me jump and slam my laptop shut.

"What the hell?!" I ask her.

"You're right. What the hell?" she spits, throwing down her backpack and placing her hands on her hips. "You've been moping in here for 24 hours straight, and you won't talk to me. What's going on?"

I roll onto my elbow and rub at my face. "It's just some guy I caught feelings for. I don't want to talk about it."

Her body softens, and she finally looks at me with something that isn't annoyance and anger; the last thing I need from my best friend at the moment, though I understand where she’s coming from. When I'm upset, I turn into quite the ice-cold bitch.

"I figured," she sighs and plops down on my bed. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? You know you can."

"I know I can, but I genuinely don't want to. It's not you, it's just that I never should have caught feelings in the first place, and instead of talking about it, I think I just need to forget it and move on. Talking about him only gives more power over me."

Suddenly, Rose is smiling from ear to ear. "Well, I'm so glad you said that, because I just ran into Jax."

"I'm not really feeling up for a dirty house party tonight."

"Good. Neither am I. You know how his family is, like... kind of rich?"

Jax comes from some money, though nothing like Harlan. That being said, his talent and success in life is mostly earned all on his own. Sure, privilege always helps, there’s no doubt about it, but instead of skating by in life, which he could have done, he’s pursuing an undergrad degree in aviation studies and working on his flight certification on the side.

"So there's this bar in the nicer part of town. It's this super exclusive, rich-people place that not a ton of students go to. Jax's family has a membership to it, so we figured why not pretend to be fancy people for the night?” She says with a mischievous grin. “There's this cool speakeasy underneath it too, which we probably won't go to because that's for boring old people, but still. We could go get fancy drinks and schmooze with the elite. Come on, it'll be fun!" she tells me, practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

It takes some convincing but within the hour, she has me dressed in a skimpy dress I'd bought for a "special occasion" but had never worn.

It is blue, sparkly, short, and low cut. It is certainly upscale-club appropriate. I've pictured my night being the same as last night: lonely and isolated and covered in cheese-ball crumbs. But before I know it, I'm in Jax's car with Milo and Rose, driving to the nightlife strip not far from where Harlan lives.

Jax has to show the doorman a pass to get us in. He ushers us all in with a huge grin, and when I step inside, hear the music, and see all the well-dressed people clinking their martinis and cocktails together, I finally start to feel a bit at ease.

"I'll grab the first round." Milo says. "What are we all having?"

He takes orders, and then goes off to the bar, accompanied by Rose, leaving me and Jax standing at a high-top table together.

"So," he says, after we've shared a few moments of small talk. "Rose said you're in a rough patch lately."

I shake my head, and then shrug, propping myself on the table by my forearms.

"It's nothing that really matters. I just need to get over it. And I will, trust me," I tend to fall quickly and aggressively, so it’s no shock that I'm in such a state over a man who clearly doesn't care for me one way or the other.

"Look," he says, eyes flickering up to meet mine. "You have a lot going for you. Whoever he is, he's not worth your tears."

The words take me by surprise. I stare at him for a moment, and then realize that he’s right. Instead of speaking, I give him a resolved, appreciative smile, one that he returns.

"Whooo's ready to party?" Rose asks, setting down a vodka lemonade in front of me.

Milo hands Jax some fancy-looking cocktail I don't recognize, and they clink their glasses together.

"To best friends," Jax says, raising his glass.

"To best friends!" we all echo.

Within a half hour, drinks are empty, and Jax has left and returned with tequila shots. Five minutes after that, we all find ourselves on the dance floor. A few songs in, all of us are sweating. I've found myself dancing with a strapping stranger in a suit who is undeniably attractive but kisses with way too much tongue. Still, I indulge him, before Rose interrupts.

"Eden, what are you... oh my, you have a tongue down your throat. Hey, I'm gonna go get another drink, you in?"

I pull away from the stranger, giving him a dashing smile and his arm a pat before taking Rose's hand and letting her pull me away to the bar.

As she orders us both drinks, I look back to the crowd. My mouth drops open, and I swat her arm. "Look at Milo and Jax," I giggle into her ear.

The pair is dancing together, Jax's arm wrapped behind Milo's waist, Milo's arms slung behind the other man's neck. They smile and eye-fuck each other so hard I can see it from across the room.

"Oh my God, I knew it!" she hisses in delight.

"Do you really think..."

"Of course I think!" she squeals. "Here." She slides me another shot. I clink our glasses and throw them back, the liquor burning in my throat.

"I'm running to the bathroom," she says. "Wait for me here."

Rose trots away, and I stand at the bar awkwardly.

Before she's been gone for long however, another stranger has bought me a whisky. My dress is really doing me favours tonight. I've already had enough but in the moment, that doesn't matter. I sling it back and let it burn on the way down, this time warming my stomach a little too much.

Now, I've had enough. I need to slow down.

When Rose is back, I ask her where the bathroom is. She points me in the general direction, and I head that way. There is a stumble in my step.

Fuck, if I can just pee and maybe sit down for a few minutes, surely I'll be fine.

On faltering feet, I head to the back of the room, finding myself at a dead end and hallways branching on either side of me. A floor-length painting hangs directly in front of me, depicting half-naked woman lounging on a chaise. The room is spinning, and I don't know where to go.

Fuck, I'm so dizzy and delirious, for a moment, I think I'll need held finding the bathroom just like a fucking child.

Just as I'm looking down the left hallway and then to the right in search of the lady's room, the painting in front of me suddenly opens up like a door. For a moment, I'm trying to remember how much I've had to drink, and wracking my mind trying to figure out if I've taken any drugs I'd forgotten about; some of the clientele undoubtedly has access to some and if I'd ever been tempted to try drugs it’s sure as hell now.

But then I remember what Rose said earlier about the bar; there’s a speakeasy beneath it.

The panic dissipates; this must have been the entrance to it. I sigh in relief, realizing I'm not going crazy.

The panic comes back tenfold when I realize who is coming out of the entryway.

It is Harlan. With a woman on his arm.