Dicked Down On A Highway (1)

The bass thumped through the walls of the club, shaking the tables and rattling the glasses. Strobe lights cut across the dance floor where people moved without care, their laughter mixing with the sound of music.

Aria sat in a booth with two of her closest friends, the table cluttered with glasses and a half-empty bottle of tequila. The air around them was thick with smoke, the scent clinging to her hair and clothes.

One of her friends handed her a joint, and she brought it to her lips without hesitation. She inhaled slowly, held it in her chest, then leaned back against the leather seat and let the smoke slip out with a faint smirk.

Then Aria’s phone buzzed loudly against the glass table, the vibration cutting through the thumping bass of the club. She glanced down, and the name on the screen lit up in bold letters: ‘Ethan.’

Aria rolled her eyes. “Ugh, not him again.”

She reached for the glass in front of her and downed what was left.

One of Aria’s friends, Cassie, glan