Brooke is the first to arrive at 591 Yeti Drive Apartment B and is ushered into the house by a half-dressed Pam. At least, Brooke thinks she is half-dressed until she realizes that what she thought was a sparkly shirt is actually a very, very short dress. Her hair is still in curlers and she’s holding a damp toothbrush, she’s smiling but clearly surprised by Brooke’s punctuality. Being late is something Brooke avoids at all costs, because it could lead to a variety of embarrassing situations. But occasionally, Brooke reminds herself, being on time can be even more awkward.
“Hey girl,” Pam says brightly and glances at Brookes outfit raising one eyebrow and pursing her lips slightly.
“Hey,” Brooke draws out the word because she doesn’t know what else to say.
Pam’s apartment matches her personality exactly. The standard white walls are covered by sheets in shades of yellow and orange and fake bunches of flowers in clear vases add a splash of red. It should look very messy, but something about it a perfect balance between fun, stylish, and put together. Just like Pam. Brooke is envious as she thinks of her bland beige walls and her equally boring personality.
“So, we are going to this club called Vortex. It’s ladies night, so drinks are half price!” Pam says excitedly, a bit too thrilled in Brooke’s opinion, but she decides to play along.
“Oh, fun,” she says with feigned enthusiasm, although she’s doubtful she’s fooling anyone.
A knock on the door breaks the silence and Mary comes in before anyone has a chance to respond.
“Hello ladies! Who’s ready to get drunk?” Clearly the life of any party, Mary pulls a small silver flask from her shiny red purse.
“Wooo! I know I am! You look gorgeous as always my dear!” Pam looks over Mary’s stunning outfit – a tight leopard print dress with red stilettos – before grabbing the flask and taking a long drink.
She hands the flask to Brooke, who takes it with a look of surprise that neither girl notices as they hug and check each other’s makeup. In the span of two seconds a million things race through Brooke’s head before her hand lifts and she takes a sip of the bitter liquid. The warmth races down her throat and she hands the flask back to Mary who takes a drink and cheers loudly. Brooke’s not sure exactly why, but within a few seconds the three of them are laughing hysterically.
When they all calm down Mary turns to Brooke and looks her outfit over. Brooke knows she’s not the most fashionable person, but she was pretty proud of her outfit of tight, dark wash skinny jeans and flowy shirt that shows just a bit of cleavage.
“Honey, that would be an adorable outfit for the office, but tonight we are going to party like there’s no tomorrow! Let’s go find you something sexy.” Pam nods and the two girls lead Brooke down the hall without another word.
“I think I’ve got the perfect thing,” Pam says as she rifles through her closet. Mary is looking through the bin of shoes in the corner, and Brooke is standing tentatively in doorway like a deer in headlights.
“What size shoe are you?” Mary is throwing shoes on the bed, unable to find any of the matches.
“Um, eight.” Brooke wishes she could come up with something else to say, but that’s all she’s got. And she’s really wishing she could have another sip of whatever’s in that flask.
“Perfect!” Pam pulls a flowy white dress from the closet with a triumphant smile. It is beautiful, but Brooke is wondering how it is possibly going to cover her curvy ass.
“Wow. It’s gorgeous, but I’m not sure if it will fit.”
“It’s stretchy. I swear, it’s going to look great,” Pam says as she hands the dress Brooke and Mary holds up a pair silver platform heals.
“Girls, you look fabulous! If I weren’t gay I think we would be having a threesome tonight.” Kent jokes as they walk from the parking lot to the club. It’s getting cold outside and could start raining at any minute. “It’s nice to see you outside of the office, Brooke. You should come out with us more often.”
“Let’s see if she even survives a night with up first.” Brooke knows that Mary is only kidding, but she’s afraid of how true the statement might end up being by the end of the night.
The club is all pulsing lights and loud music with the base turned up way too high. The sight of people dancing reminds Brooke of the one thing that she is more worried about than getting drunk: her horrible lack of dancing abilities. She exhales in relief when her group heads straight to the bar and orders a round of shots.
The girls all head to the restroom, which gives the alcohol a bit of time to take effect. By the time Brooke hits the dance floor, her anxiousness has toned down a bit and she can dance with less inhibition than when she’s sober. Her dancing is still awful compared to everyone else in the room, but Brooke is happy with the improvement.
A few songs in, two very fine guys start dancing with Mary and Pam, Kent is chatting with a few friends he ran into, and Brooke decides that a trip to the bar would be a better choice than dancing awkwardly by herself.
“I’ll have a … um… Mojito?” Brooke says the first thing that comes to mind. She’s not sure what a mojito is, but she likes the sound of it. She pays and takes a sip of the cool liquid. Not bad, Brooke thinks as she takes a look around the club. There are about twice as many girls, but there are some very good-looking guys.
She catches snippets of the conversation the men are having to her left, something about football or hockey, or something like that. Most of the girls in the club are dressed so scantily that Brooke’s dress looks conservative, even though it’s probably the most skin she has ever shown away from the beach.
Brooke is wondering how people end up so sweaty from dancing, when she sees a familiar head of messy ash blond hair across the club. She would recognize this person in a state of utter drunkenness. It’s the guy whom she has secretly pined over for two years: Peter Raveniss. Tall, handsome, and funny. The whole package, in Brooke’s opinion.
She quickly sucks down the rest of her drink, giving her a brain freeze, and rejoins her work friends, careful to stay out of Peter’s line of vision.