Gwen glanced up from the papers strewn about her desk. "I have to finish this up. I'm already way behind on this month's accounts."
Alex slipped into the ratty chair across from Gwen's desk and pouted. "You always have an excuse. I've been very understanding, you know, but the last time you went out was two months ago. I remember. You said yes and I nearly dropped a book on a customer's head when I was shelving."
Alex owned the little bookstore on Main Street, the only one on Hazel Island. Despite essentially having a monopoly on books, Gwen had heard through the grapevine that Alex's business wasn't doing well. But Alex, as sunny as ever, had never let on to Gwen.
"Have you ever dropped a book on a customer's head?" said Gwen, genuinely curious.
"Only on purpose." Alex grinned. "Come on, you need to have some fun. You've been working your ass off. But you can't go, go, go forever. A girl's gotta let loose, have some drinks. Maybe find a guy to nail."
Gwen shot her friend a dark look. "I'm not nailing anyone."
"When did you turn into such an old lady?"
Alex said the words lightly, but they still stung a bit. Gwen had turned into something of an old lady: going straight home after work and heating up some frozen meal and watching TV.
She often fell asleep on the couch and woke up to infomercials at three AM. Nothing like getting yelled at by a man obsessed with laundry detergent to make a girl rethink her life choices.
This work could wait. Gwen was just giving excuses, and she knew it. Closing her laptop, she said to Alex, "Okay, where are we going?"
Alex clapped her hands. "There you go! Come on, we can get changed at my apartment. If we can get Felicity to join us, it'll be an even greater miracle."
Felicity Linden was even more of an introvert than Gwen. She worked from home as a writer, although she refused to disclose what, exactly, she wrote about, despite Alex's best efforts otherwise. Shy and quiet, Felicity tended to fade into the background. Gwen often noticed that she let her hair hang in her face to cover up the large birthmark on her face.
But the stars must've been aligned because Felicity joined Gwen and Alex at Deja Vu, the bar that functioned as a club on Friday and Saturday nights. Gwen had been surprised when it had opened: Hazel Island wasn't known for attracting a lot of young people. But to her surprise, the club was absolutely packed with people who couldn't be older than college-aged.
"Where did all of these youths come from?" joked Gwen to Alex.
"There might be a rumor that you can get in without showing ID. Apparently, the enforcement is rather loose," said Alex.
Felicity, wearing her usual black without an inch of skin showing, frowned. "There are underage people here drinking?"
"I know nothing, I see nothing. Besides, it's just a rumor. Maybe all these youths are thirty, flirty and thriving." Alex then handed Gwen and Felicity drinks. "Cheers to us! Old enough to drink but not old enough to give up on having fun."
Gwen could cheer to that. She found herself finishing one drink, then another in quick succession. The alcohol made her feel warm, and suddenly all the worries that had been pressing on her faded away.
Alex had been right: she'd needed to get out.
The club pulsed with music, so loud that Gwen knew she'd probably be half-deaf when they left. But that was the handy thing about booze: you suddenly didn't care about the details. She and Alex danced with a group of guys, Felicity even dancing a little.
As the night wore on, Gwen could feel her internal old lady coming out. She was sweaty and tired, and the alcohol buzz was wearing off. Suddenly, she felt claustrophobic. Heading to the restroom, she nearly collided with another woman, who shot her an annoyed look. "Watch where you're going," she said.
The single-stall restroom was blessedly dim. Gwen didn't want to know how dirty it actually was. Splashing cold water on her face, she took in one deep breath, then another.
"Why am I always like this?" she said to her reflection. "Why can't I just have fun for once?"
Her reflection didn't have an answer. Sighing, she wiped her hands off on her pants since the paper towel dispenser was empty. When she returned to the dance floor, she couldn't find Alex or Felicity.
One of the young men they'd been dancing with earlier sidled up to Gwen. Putting his hands on her hips, he said in her ear, "Does the carpet match the drapes?"
Gwen reared back. The man didn't let go of her hips. "I need to find my friends."
"I've never fucked a redhead. How about you pop my cherry?"
Gwen grimaced in distaste. "How about not." She pushed the man's hands away, but that only seemed to embolden him.
Pushing back panic, she struggled to free herself, but the crowd was so thick that she couldn't get away. The man started grinding on her as if her struggle meant that she'd consented.
Where were Alex and Felicity? They wouldn't have left without her, would they? But maybe they'd been so drunk that they hadn't realized Gwen had gone to the bathroom. And if they were looking for her now...
"Let go of me," said Gwen. When the man seemed not to hear her, she yelled, "Let go of me!"
He let go, but only because a figure came up behind him and grabbed him by his collar. Then the man was sprawled on the dance floor, swearing, as Gwen stared in confusion.
Then the figure said in Jack's voice, "Come on."
Within seconds, Jack led her out of the club. Gwen gulped in the cool air, wiping sweat from her forehead. Nausea made her stomach roil, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she felt like she wouldn't vomit on the sidewalk.
Then as she looked up at Jack's face, she almost felt like puking. He looked pissed. And at her.
"What the hell were you doing?" he said, his voice harsher than she'd ever heard it. "Are you fucking insane?"
Although her buzz had been waning, she wasn't entirely sober either, so it took a moment for her to understand his question. Then she bristled.
"Are you blaming me for a guy manhandling me? Seriously?"
"I'm blaming you for being alone in a club and getting drunk—"
"I'm not alone. My friends..." Gwen looked around, but there was no sign of Alex or Felicity. "I don't know where they went."
"Some great friends you have."
"Why are you being such a jerk? And another question–what are you even doing here?" Gwen looked Jack up and down: he wasn't exactly dressed to go to a club. He was still wearing his fishing boots and jacket. She could even smell a whiff of fish on him. If he'd wanted to find someone to take home tonight, he hadn't even tried.
That thought made her belly twist. It's none of my business what Jack does with his nights, she reminded herself.
"It's a small island," said Jack, his arms crossed.
"When is the last time you ever went to Deja Vu? Because I'm pretty sure you'd rather get eaten by a bunch of eels than go to a club like this."
His lips twitched. "Maybe I was trying something new."
Gwen felt heat move through her veins. Maybe it was the moonlight highlighting the angles of Jack's jaw, or the way his forearms bulged. Maybe it was the memory of the warmth of his hand in hers. But she felt the urge to snuggle into his embrace, run her fingers along his stubbled cheeks—