Page 12 of Roses & Ruin

“Give me a couple days to show you the ropes. You’ll be running circles around me in no time.” Delia guides me from the small atrium into the heart of the Ballroom, and my mouth falls open.

I’ve only seen clubs in movies or television shows, but nothing I’ve seen on-screen was this impressive. This room seems to be the main dance space. The ceiling is impossibly high; it must cut through all four floors. All the neon colors are flashing in time to a deep, delicious bass rumbling my chest. It’s loud, impossibly loud. Delia’s right beside me, and she’s laughing, her lips moving, and I can only hear the techno beat and synthetic instruments.

Everyone here is young, hot, and, despite the cold weather outside, showing a lot of skin. It makes me feel a little better, actually; Delia’s dress is surprisingly short and low-cut on me, but when a girl walks by wearing a metal bikini, I’m not as self-conscious.

The club has a fog machine going on the dance floor, and people are rocking against each other in the waist-deep mist, jumping and howling beneath the colorful strobe lights. The hot air is thick with sweat and perfume, and I can’t take my eyes off the swinging prismatic cages hanging from the ceiling, each one with a gorgeous dancer undulating to the music.

“What do you think?” Delia shouts in my ear.

“I…think I need a drink,” I shout back, wide-eyed and completely overwhelmed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Delia steers me toward the outskirts of the giant room, where people are sitting at the black-marble-topped bar. She deposits me at an empty high-top table and flits off to get the first round.

I’ll give Delia this: It’s pretty hard to think about the fact that I saw him today with all that’s going on. An electric-violet shot appears before me on the table. It’s the same color as his eyes when they caught the bright beam of the truck headlights, just for a microsecond, before he whirled me out of Death’s way.

Pretty hard to think about him, but never, it would seem, impossible.

“Stop thinking about him,” Delia shouts, looking at my face. “Drink up. We’re here to forget.” We clink shot glasses and throw them both back. I cough, wiping my mouth. Jesus, that’s strong. “You know,” Delia says silkily, “if this doesn’t work, the other quickest way to get over someone…”

I huff a laugh, fiddling with my empty shot glass. “I know this one. ‘The quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’ ”

“Perfect!” She beams. “You’re already ahead of the game! Here, I got two shots for each of us, drink.” She slides a peach-colored shot in front of me, and I take it.

“I’ve never been ahead of any game,” I shout. My head feels like it’s fizzy, and my blood’s already kind of warm. Damn, these shots work fast. “I’ve never even dated anyone.”

“How is that possible?” Delia howls. “Look at you! You’re fucking stunning!” I roll my eyes, feeling my face flame. I don’t even feel like myself right now, with the heavy eyeliner and mascara and my hair smelling like champagne and coated in expensive, glossy serum, all courtesy of Delia. I look like someone braver. Someone louder.

Delia points. “See that tall, good-looking guy with shaggy blond hair? His friend’s not bad either.”

I spot them, the two guys Delia’s pointing at. They’re already looking our way. Both are tall, though Delia’s blond is the taller of the two boys. The other guy is pretty cute too, with close-cropped hair, intense eyes, and the tattoo of a cross on his biceps.

“Okay,” I say. “Now what?”

“Watch.” Delia shoots a thousand-watt smile at the blond, holding up our empty glasses and pouting dramatically. Immediately, he elbows his friend and holds up a finger before they both disappear into the crowd.

“Okay?” I say, blinking at Delia.

“Give it a minute,” she says.

Sure enough, in a minute or so, both boys appear at our table, holding two beers and two unopened cans of hard seltzer.

“Alright,” says the blond, “a pair of watermelon White Claws for the two most beautiful girls at the Ballroom.” He makes a face. “Sorry, laying it on a bit thick. I just…You’re both so gorgeous, you’re making me nervous.”

“Now, was that a line?” Delia raises a brow, handing me my can of seltzer and taking one for herself.

“No. Maybe?” The blond’s grin is crooked, self-effacing. I see why Delia likes him. The guy with the tattoo is staring at me. I shift awkwardly under his intense study.

“You guys got names, or should I just call you blondie and not-blondie?” Delia says.

“I’m Dec,” says the blond, “and this is Noah.” Noah smiles, never taking his eyes off me.

Dec and Delia seem to be hitting it off. He’s cute in a silly way, like the yellow Lab my neighbor had back home.

“I think we’re gonna go dance. Is that cool? Are you good if we dance?” Delia gives me a significant look. I know if I asked her to, she’d stay at the table. But her pale cheeks are flushed with delight, and she’s gripping Dec’s hand.

“Yeah, go have fun,” I say. “I’m gonna finish my drink.” As Delia and Dec traipse off to the dance floor, Noah sidles up to me.

“Do you not like watermelon flavor?” he asks politely.