02-17-2026, 04:08 PM
If Lorna was coming undone, Amara didn’t notice. Truth was, she barely knew her – and in the alcohol haze of this bar, she wasn’t so sure she knew herself either. She was all pleasantries and a warmth that radiated the longer she imbibed. <br><br>The open bar excuse was one Amara recognized with a laugh, perhaps a little too well. <span style='color:#a46858'>“I’d say it’s more than fair. Just about everything in life has its price,”</span> Pretty had its privileges, and she, like Lorna, had every intent to collect on each and every one of them. <br><br>At her casually bringing up impaling her date, Amara let out a thin, humorless laugh. A reflex, more than a reaction to her rather violent suggestion. Treated like nothing more than the ramblings of a bar friend. Amara even raised a glass, adding: <span style='color:#a46858'>“Here’s to that,”</span> What self-respecting woman wouldn’t want to imagine a little poetic justice for the guy who thought he could up and ditch her? <span style='color:#a46858'>“If only you could. I know a few guys I wouldn't mind throwing up there myself.”</span> They were just kidding – girls being girls, and all that. Or so Amara thought, a little too tipsy to read any further into anything tonight. <br><br>Like that flash of green earlier. A glitch in her periphery. Had she been sober, Amara might have connected the dots. <br><br>Beneath the blur of lights and bodies, the dreamy alcohol sheen, everything felt incredibly <i>unserious</i> for once. Maybe Lorna was being hyperbolic – but who <i>cared</i>? How could she when they were looking <i>this good</i>, and the drinks were that strong, and the beat was this <i>hypnotic</i>? <br><br>It felt like the whole room had their eyes on them. For good reason, too. Amara was hot (duh) and Lorna had that indistinguishable quality about her, electric and a little dangerous, that made for a perfect co-conspirator. Have fun, do something wild, and quite possibly forget it all ever happened in the first place. And judging from the way Amara tilted her head back and finished this last glass, the latter was certainly bound to happen. <br> <br>By now, Amara was finding it difficult to take anything too seriously. Herself included. The champagne was starting to make everything feel lighter than it probably was. But the night would have its way of escalating soon enough. <br><br>Her eyes, blue and unfocused and glazed with alcohol, locked onto Lorna’s. Her mouth curled into a wicked smirk of her own. Less maniacal, but no less enticing. Magma under thin stone, waiting; each of them ready to erupt, though differently. <br><br><span style='color:#a46858'>“Screw them. It’s their loss anyway. I mean, look at us,”</span> she said, though she really meant to point out who was looking. Practically the whole club. Their dates be damned. Now she had Lorna–<i>Lo</i> by her side, and together they were going to be a problem tonight. <br><br>Then, the beat dropped. The energy of the room shifted, supercharged. Amara didn’t hesitate, she reached for Lorna and encouraged her to join her on the dancefloor. <span style='color:#a46858'>“Come on. Let’s show them what they’re missing,”</span> <br><br>Attractive, drunk, and standing on the precipice of a beautifully ruined evening.