NOTE: Look— I know I said THIS would be the chapter with the *spice*, but I have a feeling that angst is just gonna pop up randomly in my writing. Please note: I do not control the plot, the plot controls me, lol
Also, PLEASE pay attention and carefully read the description of the club; I worked really hard on it and am very proud. And as always, thanks for reading! ❤️
Elize Bennít liked to think of herself as a rational creature. Who didn't, really? Granted, she didn't always think things through all the way, but still— Lizzy prided herself on having a cleverness about her impulses that she trusted, without a doubt. Mostly. So, after having one of the worst days of her year (so far), Lizzy didn't hesitate to accept Charlotte's offer to go clubbing.
After the unpleasant surprise of Will's sudden aloofness, her day had gotten steadily worse. For starters, Charles had said this would be a fun-sleepover-thing. It was supposed to be, y'know, an experience among friends. Instead of hanging out as a group though, Charles had stuck to Rosa Jane like a friendly thistle to cotton socks. It was.. revolting, how adorable they were.
So far, the only vaguely sleepover-y activity Charles had suggested was Twister. And after Will's heightened color, not-so-subtle staring, horrified look, and abrupt exit, Lizzy found herself.. disinclined to agree. Will had done a perfect job non-verbally convincing Lizzy that it was a very good idea to not touch him any more than strictly, absolutely, necessary. He would always stiffen, mumble something, and flee the room.
He was probably disgusted by her.
Will hadn't avoided her, like he had the first night at the Playpen. No, no. This was far worse.
He just… pretended she wasn't there. Will would walk into a room and Lizzy could watch his dark eyes sweep over her with hardly a flicker of recognition. Like she didn't even exist. He didn't laugh at her jokes. He didn't make eye contact. He didn't even smile when they passed each other in the hall. With her, he only spoke when spoken to, and even then it was very little. For an entire half hour, they sat on the couch side by side, and not one word was spoken.
It was driving Lizzy crazy; not only because she felt rejected (and the sting was brutal), but also because she felt like she.. had lost a friend.
There! She said it! Lizzy Bennít liked William Darcy, not only for his hotness, but for HIM. His stupid jokes, his secret smiles, his nervous ticks and his complex looks. Lizzy wanted to share those jokes, to earn those smiles, soothe his nerves and uncover his most complicated of ideas. She wanted to be the person he turned to, to be the one he leaned on. She wanted to be there for him. She had to remember to respect his boundaries.
Lizzy wanted them to be so much more than friends— but it seemed like he wasn't even ready for that.
Maybe he was better off without her.
Maybe that was why she had said yes to 'a wild night out' with Charlotte. She couldn't bear to see sweet Will forced to avoid her.
Or maybe it was her mother's visit that made her want to get wasted. Sra Bennít could drive even the most devout monks to drink.
Still, Lizzy was a fair bit nervous, dawdling in front of the neon entrance. It was almost 11:00. She didn't usually do this sort of thing.
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
Charlotte rolled her eyes at her fretful friend, smiling in a muted way. "Well I never! Who knew, Lizzy gets the jitters before goin' to a club."
"YOU knew that, you idiot," Lizzy said fondly.
"I KNEW I knew that, you nerdlet."
"Blockhead."
"Smart aleck."
"Party-girl."
"Prude."
"Love you."
"Love you too, Liz."
The two women looked at each other for a moment, giggling into the affectionate silence.
"Okay, cool," Lizzy said to her friend, already pushing open the door, "Ready?"
"Liz— wait." Charlotte grabbed her wrist, stopping her from entering. Her dark brown eyes searched Lizzy's face with pinched concern. "You're really not gonna tell me what's up?"
Lizzy shook her off, not unkindly. "I— not right now, Char," she said in a soft voice, "Just— not now."
Charlotte nodded, although her eyes reflected an uncertain shade of worry.
Lizzy took a deep breath and shook out her shoulders. She pulled on the smile with all the ease of slipping on a backpack. "Enough with the serious! Are you ready to PARTAYYY?!"
Charlotte laughed indulgently, and allowed Lizzy to drag her into the club. The somber mood was forgotten as they moved indoors, not to be recovered for the rest of the night.
The place was packed— well, as packed as a nowhere town in California can be on a Saturday night. The music was pumped up loud, the base converting all heartbeats into one conjoined throbbing, overpowering individuals until there were all just another warm body pulsing among many.
Glow sticks and light-up bracelets permeated the crowd, draped around heads and wrists— halos and shackles, shining like the moon, fading like a fever dream. The bright neon hues reflected and distorted among beacons of light shining forth from teeth and bright eyes, creating a lawless, shadowy scene that was as primordial as it was modernly based.
The noise of nothing and everything, the calm shrouding the storm, drained away all though from your head. There was nothing but you, and even that was lost in the soothing maelstrom.
Lizzy smiled. There was a certain tranquility, amidst the overstimulation. No time for thought. No times for doubts.
Only action would suffice.
She made her way to the bar, grinning for the first time in what felt like hours, Charlotte dutifully at her side.
When they reached it, Charlotte tried to wave the bartender over, but he was busy serving a young man Lizzy didn't recognize. Eventually, Lizzy whistled loudly, calling out over the thrum of the base all around them, "Yo! What's a girl gotta do to get a drink? C'mon man!"
The bartender glanced her way, and then went back to taking the stranger's order. The man though, looked her way, did a quick once-over, and grinned. He turned to the bartender.
"Um, I believe this lovely young lady would like to be served."
The bartender grunted with his unibrow lowered, but strode over to take their orders. After asking for a vodka martini for Charlotte and Jäger for herself, Lizzy turned to the young man and toasted him in thanks. To her surprise, he braved the din of the club and struck up a conversation.
"Hey girl," he said with an easy grin, "You here alone?"
"Nah man," Lizzy said. "Here with a friend." She nodded to Charlotte, who waved, and sent a longing glance to the dance floor.
The man lifted his chin in greeting and took a swig of his beer. When the bottle came away, the grin was back. "Too bad," he said coolly, "I woulda liked to keep you company."
"You still can," Lizzy said flirtatiously, flattered. "I'm not tied down."
"Then I will, baby girl." He affected a blush after issuing a debonair wink. "As long as I'm not bothering you, that is."
"I said tied down, not tied up." She cocked her head to the side, as if considering. Then she smiled at him from under her lashes. "Unless you're into that sort of thing."
The man laughed, head tilted back, eyes closed. Charlotte had moved away to the dance floor (after casting a knowing look at her friend), giving Lizzy the opportunity to study the man without witness.
He was handsome. Like, movie-star handsome. His jawline could cut steel, and she was willing to bet his biceps could end world hunger. His hair was a dark brown, maybe black, and the gel he had used to spike it glowed in the neon lights. His nose was slightly crooked; his grin more so. He wore jeans, a wrinkled red T, and a leather jacket. Bad boy. His complexion made Lizzy think white-passing, but not completely white. The exact coloring though was obscured by the overpowering glare of the club— it cast an emerald, almost toxic color over his face. When he opened his eyes, Lizzy found them to be a dark, twinkling moss green.
"I like you," the man declared, "What's your name, baby girl?"
"Lizzy," she said, sticking out her hand. "And don't call me baby girl, sweet cheeks."
"Woah hey, feisty," he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, growling a little. His eyes flashed with something beyond a smile. "I like it."
Lizzy laughed, and released his hand. She took a sip of her Jäger, watching the man from over the top. "You know I'm NOT looking to sleep with you, right?"
The man tried on a pout. "Not even with no strings attached?"
"Especially with no strings attached."
He snapped his fingers, chuckling. "Damn."
"I AM still open to flirting though," Lizzy added, as an afterthought. "And being a wingman. Or just a bar buddy. You seem like an okay dude."
"I would hope so!" The man pointed to himself and smiled again, his teeth glowing the limelight. "Jorge Wickham."
She nodded, and took another drink.
"So," Jorge asked, "What brings you here on this fine evening?"
"Ah, nothin' much," she shrugged. "Relationship troubles."
"Wait, I thought you said you were unattached?" He said, with more interest than remorse.
"I AM." Lizzy pounded her fist into the bar, then winced. "Just.. I thought I had a chance with someone, but now…"
"...they blew you off," Jorge supplied, nodding sagely. "Damn girl. That sucks."
"Yeah, well," Lizzy muttered, taking another drink.
"Seriously. The dude must be blind and deaf and probably has four teeth and smells bad. You're better off alone."
Lizzy laughed. "Thanks."
"Hey, anytime."
Lizzy looked at her bar-buddy sideways. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he finished off his beer and motioned for another to the bartender. She waited until his eyes were on her to ask her question.
"Soo… Jorge. What brings you to a place like this?"
He demurred, looking genuinely abashed for the first time in their brief acquaintance. "Ah, well, y'know…"
"Sex."
"Yeah, just sex."
Lizzy laughed again, shaking her head. "Well, at least you're honest about it."
Jorge shrugged good-naturedly, and soon they began to talk of other things.
