The History Paper
You got out of the car and pocketed your phone. Tense, you slowly made your way closer to the door. There was a long line of people outside making pleasant, albeit loud, conversation. It wasn't even 10:00 and half of them seemed to be a least tipsy. Chase came bounding out of the door. He quickly spotted you, patted the bouncer (who was almost three times your size) on the arm before saying something to him, and motioning for you to follow.
As soon as you walked in, you regretted going. The club was packed and insufferably hot with sweat clinging to the air. Blaring music made it impossible to hear what Chase was saying to you, despite him being 4 feet away. You felt awkward and out of place. Chase led you to the bar, and sat on one of the stools, motioning for you to do the same. He yelled his order over the music and held up two fingers -- you guessed you were just drinking whatever it was he ordered for you.
"So how are your classes going?" He said.
"Alright, I guess," you shrugged. "Boring, lots of work, y'know."
He nodded and suddenly declared, "I'm gonna get you to loosen up tonight and have fun for once."
You rolled your eyes. "This isn't what I think is--" The bartender placed the glass in front of you. "Thanks-- fun." You sipped at the drink. To be honest, you had no idea what it was, but you enjoyed it all the same.
Chase, looking completely fed up with you, sighed dramatically. "Your idea of a fun night is probably organizing your agenda."
"Well, actual--"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence; I don't need to know the extent of your introversion," he said while you laughed.
The night was going well, the conversation was easy, and whatever drink Chase was ordering for you, had calmed you down immensely. The two of you were laughing at old stories when a tall young woman approached you. Her dark hair was worn in loose curls that framed her face. Her features were delicate, except for her eyes, which were cold and calculating. She was beautiful in an intimidating way. You briefly wondered how you hadn't noticed her earlier -- she was dressed completely differently than the rest of the club in a long pale pink dress with a dainty silver belt.
Without greeting you or anything like that, she said, "I've been instructed to invite you to one of the VIP sections." Her voice was strikingly aloof and, although you couldn't identify it, she had a distinct accent.
"I--" Caught off guard by her tone, and slightly drunk, you stumbled over your words. "Do I know you?"
Chase, who was handling his drinks much better than you were, looked just as confused. "Who are you, lady? If you're trying to sell us something or are planning on charging us for access or whatever, we're not interested."
She frowned and cocked her head to the side. "That's no way to talk to a lady."
"Shove it," Chase said, taking another drink. "Like I said we're not interested in whatever it is your selling."
"Listen," she sighed, "I'm really not selling anything. My boss asked me to invite you into the VIP section."
"Yeah, because we're clearly very important people," Chase motioned to the bartender for another round.
"The drunk one," she gestured to you, who was clinging to your glass, "caught his attention, apparently." Her tone was growing significantly colder. "Not that I see anything special," she muttered.
You frowned, "that's not very nice lady--"
"Luna," she corrected, taking a deep breath and pressing her fingers to her temple. "Just follow me."
As soon as you walked in, you regretted going. The club was packed and insufferably hot with sweat clinging to the air. Blaring music made it impossible to hear what Chase was saying to you, despite him being 4 feet away. You felt awkward and out of place. Chase led you to the bar, and sat on one of the stools, motioning for you to do the same. He yelled his order over the music and held up two fingers -- you guessed you were just drinking whatever it was he ordered for you.
"So how are your classes going?" He said.
"Alright, I guess," you shrugged. "Boring, lots of work, y'know."
He nodded and suddenly declared, "I'm gonna get you to loosen up tonight and have fun for once."
You rolled your eyes. "This isn't what I think is--" The bartender placed the glass in front of you. "Thanks-- fun." You sipped at the drink. To be honest, you had no idea what it was, but you enjoyed it all the same.
Chase, looking completely fed up with you, sighed dramatically. "Your idea of a fun night is probably organizing your agenda."
"Well, actual--"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence; I don't need to know the extent of your introversion," he said while you laughed.
The night was going well, the conversation was easy, and whatever drink Chase was ordering for you, had calmed you down immensely. The two of you were laughing at old stories when a tall young woman approached you. Her dark hair was worn in loose curls that framed her face. Her features were delicate, except for her eyes, which were cold and calculating. She was beautiful in an intimidating way. You briefly wondered how you hadn't noticed her earlier -- she was dressed completely differently than the rest of the club in a long pale pink dress with a dainty silver belt.
Without greeting you or anything like that, she said, "I've been instructed to invite you to one of the VIP sections." Her voice was strikingly aloof and, although you couldn't identify it, she had a distinct accent.
"I--" Caught off guard by her tone, and slightly drunk, you stumbled over your words. "Do I know you?"
Chase, who was handling his drinks much better than you were, looked just as confused. "Who are you, lady? If you're trying to sell us something or are planning on charging us for access or whatever, we're not interested."
She frowned and cocked her head to the side. "That's no way to talk to a lady."
"Shove it," Chase said, taking another drink. "Like I said we're not interested in whatever it is your selling."
"Listen," she sighed, "I'm really not selling anything. My boss asked me to invite you into the VIP section."
"Yeah, because we're clearly very important people," Chase motioned to the bartender for another round.
"The drunk one," she gestured to you, who was clinging to your glass, "caught his attention, apparently." Her tone was growing significantly colder. "Not that I see anything special," she muttered.
You frowned, "that's not very nice lady--"
"Luna," she corrected, taking a deep breath and pressing her fingers to her temple. "Just follow me."