20 MARENThe nightclub is thrumming with life, filled from wall to wall with glitter-covered bodies, pulsating bass beats, and strobing lights. The scent of sweat hangs in the air, and I’m starting to question why I agreed to come out tonight.
Scarlett doesn’t let go of my hand as she drags me through each room, making good on her promise not to leave me alone in here. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a nightclub, but it’s definitely not the kind of scene I frequent very often like she does.
Scarlett moves seamlessly through the throngs of dancing twenty-somethings, only stopping to touch the elbow of a woman wearing the same sequined dress and high-five her.
My look barely makes the cut for adequate club wear—a black knee-length dress with lacy edges. Good thing Scarlett took one lo
