"The hell is his problem?!" Zebina laughed.
"I don't know, he's been doing that all night, maybe he's got anxiety or something... I've been thinking about getting another cat." I frowned as we moved out into the hall, locking the door behind me.
"Don't, Viv. One cat is cool. One cat is fitting. You get two and the next thing you know you'll have eight, a bald spot and spend the rest of your life clipping coupons and riding the A train to the park to feed the ducks and shit." Zebina looped her arm in mine as we made our way down to the elevator. We moved inside, looking down the long hall to watch the lights flickered in a slow pattern before extinguishing, one after the other, moving toward us as the doors closed slowly. We both stared for a long few moments before looking at one another and bursting into laughter.
"When are you moving out of this creepy fucking building? I swear it's haunted or something." Bina cackled.
"Whenever I can afford it. That was... fucking weird though, right?"
"Hey... I know Lucas was a fucking douche, but I'm sorry for what happened. If you ever feel off, you know... this being you guy's first apartment and all, you can always come to my place. I'll kick Christoph out. Fucker's been late on his third of the rent for the last four months." Zebina smirked, and reached out to tweak my nipple ring through my dress. "Orrr... you could just crash in my room?"
I swatted her hand away and laughed. "Yeah, and get fired because you handcuffed me to your bed and won't let me leave for work? Not a chance Bina."
________________
I couldn't help but smile at the line wrapped around the warehouse. Zebina's co-workers from the tattoo shop tagged along in the back seat, and pulled out a massive bottle of Grey Goose as we found parking on the street. We watched the line as we took turns passing the vodka and a bottle of orange juice around in excitement, waiting for the doors to open.
The second the line started moving we were three mouthfuls of vodka in, and I could feel my fair skin deepening with a natural blush as we made our way to steal a spot in line. At least until Zebina laced her fingers with mine and practically dragged us to the front of the line. The bouncer, a burly man with long dreadlocks and an accompanying bread was suited with a shirt of one of the local Metal bands. Probably the sound of Hell currently radiating from inside. He gave me, Bina, and her coworkers an ample once over before nodding his head and removing the metal link chain from the entrance of the worn-down grungy warehouse doors.
"We still got it, woo!" Zebina cheered as we made our way down a long hall, descending deeper into the old building. Strips of tattered plastic hung from the ceilings of the long walk in, along with thick chains of some sort, leaving me to wonder what sort of warehouse it had been when occupied. The women behind us laughed as we came out into the massive three-story open center of the warehouse, and marveled at the decor that had probably been thrown up only a few hours before all of this happened.
"How the fuck do they have the power on in this place?" I called over the screech of electric guitars and the noise of the gathered crowd. There had to be at least a hundred people in here already and they
just
started letting people inside. They were filling up the concrete stairs on either side to the open view layout of the upper levels. The accompaniment of neon lights and areas of entertainment quickly became occupied
"Fuck if I know, the dude who throws these pop-ups has got a lot of pull I hear!" Zebina tilted her head back with the bottle of vodka in her hands.
Raves in Philadelphia—impromptu ones like this—were so fucking common. I had been to several since I was eighteen. The raucous energy of the crowd took a shift when the local metal band moved off stage and made way for the DJ. The set-up team dragged his table center stage in front of the drum kit, and the energy in the room shifted dramatically as the sharp pulse of electronic treble and thundering bass began to reverberate through the room. The crowd swelled, and the floor seemed to quake with their enthusiasm.
I had been here not even ten minutes, and already a gaggle of frat boys made their passes. I didn't bother feigning interest as Zebina broke off for the long tables set along the far wall with ice and water and God only knew what other 'party favors' were being openly distributed. Rule number one has always been to avoid the 'Open Bar'. There was no telling what any of the things left there contained.
By the time Zebina returned, I had gotten annoyed shooing off men who were clearly trying the wrong sort. College sorts with fresh haircuts, designer clothes, and expensive watches. They didn't seem amused at my deadpan tone. They seemed even less enthused when I just rolled my eyes, turned up my nose, and waved them away.
Thirty minutes in, I was 'Stuck up', 'Goth Bitch' and 'Tease'. At least two of my unsolicited 'suitors' had offered to pay me to come back to their apartment. Nursing a red cup in my hand Zebina had brought back from the table, she poured a round of shots and grimaced at the expression of absolute boredom on my face. I still wasn't feeling it. The moment we toasted to the early night, Zebina slapped the cup out of my hand, grasped my wrist and dragged me through the sea of bodies to the center of the floor beneath the blacklight.
Zebina pulled me close and leaned in to speak into my ear before curling an arm around my waist, tempting me to dance, "Lighten the fuck up!"
With the blaring of lights and rising smoke from the dry ice machines set around the stage, she pulled my smile back onto my lips as the slow pulse of the bass shot up my heels. Her friends gathered around and it felt almost instantaneous that the crowd moved to give us space; easily four of the baddest bitches at this rave. The opening croons of
Spitfire by The Prodigy
began to reverberate off the walls. Closing my eyes, I found the pulse of bass in the music.
My arms raised as my hips rolled to the electronic lilt between the aggression of the vocalist, and Zebina danced close, radiating in my energy. The crowd seemed to surge—doubled, hell, tripled since the rave began. The flashing of glow sticks and breakdancers making spaces for their performances lifted my spirits.
The drums of the upper level spattered glowing streaks of paint beneath the blacklights and smoke, with the aerial dancers twirling from their lyra above us. The heat from the bodies all gathered was offset by the tall ceilings of the warehouse, and as I felt the music, I let my eyes sweep the crowd.
It wasn't hard to notice him standing motionless among a sea of bodies. He was tall, a solid figure with broad shoulders, darkly dressed and almost out of place with how professional and clean he looked. Here; in the middle of a crowd where headphones with neon lights, glow-in-the-dark necklaces, and half naked women smeared in blacklight paint filed around him. I did a turn, pushing my ass against Zebina as the song shifted seamlessly into the next remix:
Red Lips by Good Times Ahead.
Another turn, and she curled her long arms around my shoulders.
"You have an admirer."
She mouthed, the height of the pulsing bass, sharp electronics and kick drum too loud for words now. How could I have not noticed him looking? Her arms dropped away just as quickly as she stepped back, and spread her arms.
"Hoooot, fucking dance with him! GO!"
I rolled my eyes with a smile as she turned her back to me, stealing the shared bottle from one of her friends. I glanced over my shoulder, my body rolling to the music, almost content to dance alone. I shouldn't have turned around again. I wasn't even sure why I did, aside from the obvious...
That tall, gorgeous dark Adonis of a man had already started making his way toward me. The crowd seemed to part for him as he moved nearer, a sly smile pulling over his full lips, his eyes intense beneath the lights. A gorgeous shade of blue. Almost reflective. I had never seen eyes like his before, and as he came to stand before me, I wondered where the hell he had gotten such high-quality contact lenses.
He extended his hand to me, and I felt myself falter. I couldn't tear my gaze away. My heart beat just a bit faster. I felt warmth flushing over my high cheekbones, and tried my damndest to shy away, slowing to a stop among a sea of individuals jumping to the pounding bass. The only thing I could focus on was this man—this stranger. His hand hovered in the air between us as he gazed into my eyes.
