LILY
The bass from the main floor of The Red Hour banged against my eardrum in an unapologetic manner, letting me aware of the fact that I'd definitely be needing hearing aids in my later years. That's if I first survive this night.
The air carried a thick smell of expensive gin, flavored vape clouds, and the familiar sweaty scent of hundreds of people pressed against each other.
I sat on the edge of the velvet seat, nursing a gin and tonic I didn’t really want, feeling like a ghost at my own funeral. My eyes, traitorous and hungry, were fixed on the center of the booth.
Leslie, my best friend since we were in pigtails, was practically draped over Jasper like a discarded silk scarf. She was drunk—the kind of messy, loose-limbed drunk that often made her loud and reckless. But still, h
