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“Let’s go,” I shouted back.
Finals could wait—tonight was about letting loose.
As “Maneater” blasted and lights danced across the club, bodies pressed together, jumping, dancing, and grinding, Claire guided me to the bar, her hand firmly around my wrist.
Navigating through the sea of people, we finally made it to the bar.
We ordered two cosmopolitans, and as we waited for our drinks, Claire leaned in with a mischievous grin.
“I hooked up with this bartender two weeks ago,” she confessed.
I gasped dramatically and then burst into laughter, causing a few heads to turn our way. I took a good look at the bartender. He stood at a solid 5’10”, his buzzed haircut giving him an air of confidence, his jawline sharp, and tiny tattoos on his face.
“Claire, you’re crazy! Where?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.
I leaned in closer, eager to hear every juicy detail.
Her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, Sofiya, you won’t believe it. It was at this party I went to with Jane. We danced together and had a few too many drinks, and things got a bit… heated. We ended up behind a big tree in the garden, and, well… you can imagine the rest.”
“Wait, do you even know his name?” I asked, my eyes widening in disbelief.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “No freaking clue.”
My jaw dropped.
Just then, the bartender arrived with our drinks, giving Claire a flirtatious wink.
“Drinks are on me, ladies. Have fun, but not too much,” he said with a smirk.
Claire smirked and leaned closer to him. “No promises. You know how wild I can get.”
He gave her a wide smile and walked away.
Yep, third-wheeling at its finest.
“I think his name’s Paul or Leo,” she mused, her blue eyes still locked on the bartender. “Something like that, I can’t remember, anyway.”
Claire’s confidence was something to admire, but her nonchalance about not even knowing the guy’s name? That was next-level.
Here I was, struggling to make meaningful connections, and she was out here living her best life without a care in the world.
“Claire, you amaze me,” I said, shaking my head. “I wish I had half your guts.”
She laughed, taking a sip of her drink. “Stick with me, and you’ll have plenty of wild stories to tell. Just try to keep up, okay?”
I took a deep breath. “Actually, tonight’s going to be special for me too.”
I had already told Claire before about my lack of romantic experiences.
While she seemed to effortlessly navigate relationships and flings, I’d spent most of my life focused on academics and moving around.
The idea of kissing someone felt monumental, almost surreal.
But tonight, something inside me decided it was time.
I didn’t want to remain a 24-year-old who had never been kissed.
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How so?”
