She orders our drinks, and then we slam them back and head for the dance floor. We dance in the low lighting, making the occasional trip back to the bar for more shots until we’re hot, sweaty, exhausted, and ready to go home. I feel good, not just because I’m buzzed, but because I had fun, even though I’m scared of getting married, worried about writing vows.

As we push through the crowd, heading for the exit, we collect our jackets from the chair. We slip them on as we push out the door and the ice-cold air stings at my bare legs.

“Let’s run,” I tell Lila and she laughs as we take off, staggering and slipping in the ice as we run toward the Chevelle parked beneath the lamppost.

“Wait.” Lila suddenly slams to a stop when we’re almost to the car. She looks back at the club with a torn expression on her face. “Maybe we should go back inside where it’s warm and call the guys to come get us. We said we wouldn’t drive drunk.”

Through the sea of alcohol sloshing around in my head, I realize that we indeed shouldn’t be driving since everything looks a little distorted and standing seems complex. “Yeah, good idea.” I start to turn around to head back when a blue Camaro drives into the parking lot and parks between us and the door to the club, blocking our path.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I mutter as the window rolls down.

Mikey sticks his head out as a cloud of smoke rushes from the open window. The last time I saw him I was throwing a milkshake into his window and then he tried to chase us down. Knowing Mikey, I’m guessing he’s probably still holding a grudge.

“Ella, what’s wrong?” Lila asks tracking my line of sight as a smile creeps up on Mikey’s face. “Who is that?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the town rebel.” He continues smiling as he opens his door and hops out. He’s about average height for a guy, which makes me in heels as tall as him, but my weight is no match for his. His black hair blends with the night, his nose is crooked, probably because someone clocked him, and he has a barbed-wire tattoo curving around his neck.

His boots stomp against the icy parking lot as he strides over to us with a smirk on his face. “So is that Gregory idiot with you, because I’ve been dying to kick his ass too for that shake stunt you two pulled.”

“What?” Lila asks way too loud and I shoot her a look over my shoulder, warning her to keep her mouth shut. Then I glance over at Mikey’s car, noting that there’s someone else in the passenger seat, a guy I think.