Chapter 7

Mike's so-called friend wasn't in the car. It was just Mike, who handled the wheel of a car like a pro, and Sarah, sitting beside him, watching her boyfriend with admiration. I was in the back seat. Staring out the tinted window, I watched the trees, houses, and even late-night workers flash by in a blur. Despite the approaching night, the city was slowly coming to life.

"Brad is waiting for us at the club," Sarah said—apparently, this was the guy she was so eager to introduce me to. "He's great. You'll like him."

I didn't respond, nor did I pay much attention to her words. Meeting someone new—let alone anything more—wasn't on my agenda. Fine, whatever. I'd meet this Brad, but only because Sarah had practically dragged me out of the house. Honestly, if I had kept refusing, I wouldn't put it past her to order Mike to throw me over his shoulder and carry me out by force.

"Why so gloomy, Red?" Mike asked in a friendly tone, glancing at my sulking face through the rearview mirror.

"I'm not 'Red' to you," I snapped back, as was typical in our conversations. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around me, even though the car was warm.

Sarah burst into laughter and added, "Come on, Eva. Stop frowning already. We're going to have fun."

The car came to a sudden halt, and I practically jumped in my seat from the unexpected stop.

A neon sign above the club's wide double doors flickered, growing brighter and brighter as if drilling its name into the minds of onlookers: Bloody Dawn. I shivered involuntarily as a cold wave ran through me when the car door opened. Two burly bouncers in classic suits stood at the entrance, their intimidating presence impossible to ignore.

"Sarah, are we even getting in?" I clung tightly to my friend's arm, eyeing the security guards warily.

"Don't worry, Mike's got it covered," my friend reassured me, patting my shoulder. She swore loudly when she hit the metal spikes on my jacket, then we stepped aside, watching as Mike exchanged a few words with the bouncers.

One of them laughed heartily, flashing a gap where a tooth should've been, then gave a thumbs-up and nodded toward the entrance. Mike turned back to us, motioning us forward. Victorious, we cheered and strode inside.

What did I feel the moment I stepped into the massive club hall?

Pure exhilaration.

The lighting was dim, neon flashes bursting through the darkness. At first, I flinched at every flicker, but soon, I got used to it. The massive dance floor was packed with heated bodies moving in sync with the music. Energy radiated from them, seeping into me, urging me to let go and enjoy myself.

"Why have I never been here before?!" I shouted over the deafening music, feeling the bass vibrate in my chest.

"Because you don't know how to have fun," Sarah stated bluntly. Then, grabbing my hand, she yanked me into the crowd before I could protest.

Before I knew it, we were at the bar, which stretched along the entire hall. Two bartenders—one on each end—deftly juggled bottles and glasses, putting on a show like seasoned performers. I watched in amazement until Sara's excited voice snapped me out of it.

"Brad!"

Well, shit. Trouble just snuck up on me out of nowhere.

"This is my friend," Sarah said, pulling me closer to a guy lounging casually at a table. His piercing brown eyes swept over me, analyzing every detail, making me want to cringe. "Eva!"

"Beautiful name," my new acquaintance said, flashing a charming smile and raising an eyebrow slightly. "I'm Brad."

"Nice to meet you," I forced out a smile, extending my hand. Like a true gentleman, he kissed it.

Damn, he knew how to make an impression.

Sarah threw a few more words our way before slipping off, leaving us alone. Well, relatively speaking.

I sat on the nearest empty stool beside Brad.

"A cocktail?" he asked, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously while studying me intently.

"Sure," I agreed hesitantly. "Something non-alcoholic."

Brad's laughter seemed to momentarily drown out the club's blaring music.

"Come on," he said, casually brushing his fingers against my hand. "We're in a club, Eva. No need to be shy."

He turned to the bartender and placed an order. Two mojitos, from what I managed to catch.

Mojito, huh? Wait… doesn't that have rum?

I took a deep breath, realizing that I probably could've found better company tonight.

Looking around, I scanned the crowd. Strangers' faces blurred together. The club was packed with all kinds of people: confident partygoers moving freely to the music, nervous teens clearly here for the first time, trying to escape their problems for a night, and awkward souls who'd obviously been dragged in by reckless friends hoping they'd finally loosen up.

And then my gaze landed on someone.

Among all these faces, one stood out. Something about him seemed oddly familiar—like I had seen him before.

Then, suddenly, it hit me.

Hard.

Like someone had smacked me over the head with something heavy.

"No way…" I whispered in shock, staring at the undeniably attractive young man who had caught my attention.

Mr. Gilbert.

Our beloved biology teacher.

His face was freshly shaven, his usual stubble gone. He looked so young—barely nineteen. If I didn't know he was a teacher, I'd assume the same. But in reality? Twenty-seven.

Lynn had figured that out on the very day he was introduced to us. Don't even ask how.

He was laughing with his group, flashing a charming smile. For the first time, I noticed the dimples in his cheeks.

"See someone you know?"

Shit.

I had completely forgotten about Brad in my staring session.

"No, no," I shook my head quickly as he handed me my mojito. "Thanks."

Something stirred inside me.

An undefined feeling.

A temptation I suddenly wanted to give in to.

Would I let loose tonight?

Absolutely.

I didn't count how many cocktails I had that night, but judging by my "not quite" sober state, it was definitely a lot. Mojito, Americano, Mimosa, Kir—those were just the ones I could remember. Brad, it seemed, had made it his mission to get me seriously drunk. And he was succeeding. I let go—I really let go. Of all my problems, all the crap that, even in small amounts, still lingered in my life.

As it turned out, the club had a second floor, accessible by a staircase tucked away in one corner of the massive hall. And up there—it was truly something special. You'd think there was another large dance hall, right? But no. Up there, anyone who wanted could get a tattoo. Any style, any design. Real tattoos, glitter tattoos, henna—you name it. There was professional equipment, glass display cases filled with sketch designs, and special chairs where people sat to decorate their skin with something unique. I didn't get a good look, though, because Brad was already dragging me back downstairs.

"Let's get some fresh air?" Brad mumbled drunkenly, taking another sip of his cocktail and biting into the lime garnish. Not waiting for my answer, he grabbed my hand and pulled me somewhere.

I don't remember how we pushed our way through the massive crowd moving to the beat of the music, but the cold air that suddenly hit my face when I found myself outside on a dark, empty street sobered me up slightly. It was freezing—so cold that even the security guards had retreated inside. And it was only early autumn. I pulled my leather jacket tighter around me, though at that moment, it felt like nothing more than a thin scrap of fabric, unable to keep me warm in any way.

Suddenly, a loud crash rang out. When I turned, all I saw were shards of a glass—Brad had smashed it out of boredom.

"Wonderful," he slurred, stumbling over the word.

"Let's go back," I said, unnerved by the darkness and the eerie silence surrounding the club. I wanted to go inside, to hide in the warmth, to never step out again. But Brad had other plans. The next moment, he grabbed my jacket sleeve and pulled me toward him.

"No, let's stay here," he said with a wide grin, revealing his perfectly straight teeth. But something in that smile, in the strange gleam in his eyes, filled me with unease.

"Let me go," I tried to pull away, but Brad was much stronger than me. And, apparently, my resistance irritated him because, in the next second, he shoved me hard, sending me crashing into the brick wall of the building. My head hit painfully.

Without a second thought—drunk and out of control—Brad pressed his lips to mine in a forceful, heated kiss. My strength, dulled by alcohol, was fading fast, making it hard to push him away.

"Get off!" I struggled, trying to break free, but he wouldn't let me. His grip was firm, his kiss aggressive—his tongue forced its way into my mouth, triggering my gag reflex. My body started to go limp in his grasp, unable to resist anymore.

Then, suddenly, someone yanked him away from me. Hard. Sudden. Decisive. I barely registered what was happening as I slid down the wall, my legs giving out beneath me.

"You've lost your damn mind, haven't you?!" Brad slurred, swaying unsteadily as he tried to stay on his feet.

"Leave the girl alone," a rough, commanding voice responded. And it worked—Brad, after cursing everyone out, seemed to have a moment of clarity. He realized what he had done and chose to leave.

The next moment, someone helped me up, steadying me by placing my arm over their shoulder.

"Mr. Gilbert," I mumbled with a weak smile, my eyes barely open. In that moment, I silently thanked every god in existence that he had shown up in time. "Do we have extra classes today or something?"

I was drunk—completely out of it—and had no idea what I was saying. I would definitely be embarrassed tomorrow, assuming I even remembered any of this.

"Oh, Martin, how did you even end up here?" But I barely heard my biology teacher's words because, suddenly, nausea surged up my throat. The next moment, all the alcohol I had consumed that night came spilling out onto the pavement.

A strange sense of relief washed over me, as if I had been carrying some invisible weight all evening, and now it had finally lifted from my shoulders.

Then, everything started to blur, the world tilting around me. My vision flickered with static, like falling snow on an old TV screen. My eyelids drooped, my balance faltered.

But just before I collapsed, someone caught me.

And that—was the last thing I remembered from this truly insane night.