His Games, Her Rules

“Enough with that nonsense. We’re not here to talk about failed romance and past relationships, we’re here to party and have fun. Speaking of fun, see anyone you like?” Monique asks, eyebrows raised as she scans the club.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Nah. Just rich assholes with obviously micro penises,” I say as Monique laughs.

“Look who it is!” A female voice says as Monique and I turn toward the voice. Lenore, Monique’s colleague from work is standing by Monique, obviously drunk as she giggles.

“If it isn’t the two musketeers,” Lenore says, slurring her words.

The bartender returns with my shots, Monique’s Negroni, and our bill.

“Thanks,” Monique says to the bartender.

“I got it,” I say, referring to the bill.

“Thanks.” Monique smiles at me as we purposely ignore Lenore.

“So, what are you girls doing here?” Lenore asks. “And bartender, I’ll get a glass of vodka with lemon,” Lenore says.

“Sorry, madam, you’ve had too much. It’s best if you drink water instead.” The bartender says. Lenore is caught off guard by the refusal.

I pull out my card and hand it to the bartender.

“Did you hear that?” Lenore turns to look at us as she turns to the bartender. “That’s so unprofessional!” Lenore yells.

“Right,” I mutter under my breath, throwing my head back and gulping a shot.

“Your PIN, ma.” The bartender says, stretching the machine to me with my card in it as I input my PIN. He runs my payment and hands me my card as he leaves.

“God, I can’t wait to feel the alcohol in my system.” I scrunch my face at the second tequila shot as I slam the shot down.

“Easy there, Fox,” Monique says, grinning at me.

“Are you girls seriously ignoring me?” Lenore asks, her voice laced with irritation and anger. “Rot in hell, sluts.” she growls, nudging her shoulder against Monique and almost knocking her to the ground as she walks away.

“Are you okay?” I ask Monique as she balances herself on the barstool.

“Yeah. Lenore is just being Lenore.” Monique says.

“Leave me alone! Don’t fucking touch me! I’m not drunk, okay?” A voice loudly yells from behind us as we turn around. As predicted, it’s Lenore. She’s being bundled by the bouncers as they carry her outside.

“Oh, boy. That doesn’t look good.” I say.

“It sure does,” Monique says with a big grin as we turn away from the scene. “She was causing a nuisance.”

“Come on, drink up, and let’s go dance,” Monique says to me. I drink the last two shots at once as I shut my eyes, letting the alcohol sink into my system as it burns its way through.

God, I’m tipsy already.

Monique and I make our way to the dance floor and we start to dance to the music, swaying our hips and our hands. I don’t have to try hard, I just let the alcohol do its job. Monique and I dance against each other, rocking our hips back and forth as we let the music take control.

“I feel so alive right now.” I voice out loudly above the music, giggling.

A familiar song comes up and Monique and I sing along to it, dancing and chuckling at the same time. It looks like we’re 20 again, attending frat parties, dancing, and slurring musical lyrics. I don’t know how long we’ve been dancing but my feet are beginning to hurt really bad, all thanks to my shoes.

“I’m gonna go get more shots,” I say to Monique as I hurry toward the bar, nearly tripping on my shoes.

The bar is a little crowded with the bartenders trying to attend to everyone at the same time. I find a spot at the bar, waiting patiently to get the attention of the bartender who’s mixing drinks for two women.

“Robyn,” Monique calls behind me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

I turn to look at her as she gives me a sad smile. “What’s up? You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, my boss, Katelyn, just texted me to come to the office that it’s important.”

“Is that why you’re frowning?”

“Yeah. I’m leaving you and…” she sighs. “We can go together and find out why she called me and if it’s nothing important we could come back here.”

“You and I know it’s not nothing important. You go and I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“How are you gonna get home?”

I shrug. “An Uber or a cab. I’m not a child, Monique, I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She sighs and nods as she scans the club briefly. “Do me a favor and wind down on the alcohol.”

“I can handle myself when I’m drunk.”

“Right,” Monique says sarcastically. “All the same, calm down with the alcohol. Drink but don’t drink too much.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna lecture me like a child because of alcohol? Go answer to your boss, I’m gonna be okay.”

Monique exhales through her nose. “All right. Call me when you need anything alright?”

“All right.”

Monique pulls me into a quick hug as she turns around and hurries toward the exit. I sigh, shifting my gaze from the dance floor to the bartender who’s now standing in front of me, with the counter in between us.

“What would you like to have?” The bartender asks as he gives me a friendly smile.

“Ten more tequila shots,” I say to the bartender, pulling out my credit card.

“Um.., don’t you think you need water in that mixture?” He asks.

I glare at him and hand him my card.

“Ten more tequila shots.” I grit out, glaring at the bartender from under my eyelashes. “And I can handle myself, thanks.”

“Right.” He gives me an apologetic smile and a nod as he turns around to prepare my drink.

I am anything but drunk. Since Monique’s gone, I need more alcohol than necessary to go through this night. Why didn’t I go with her when she offered? Now I’m bored out of my mind and tipsy.

The bartender returns with my drinks and my card as he flashes me a small smile and leaves. I throw my credit card in my purse and pick up one tequila shot, throwing my head back as I gulp the entirety of the liquid.

“Isn’t that too many shots for a lady? Are you having a frat party?” A voice says beside me.

I slam the shot down on the counter and turn toward the owner of the voice. Omar Sharif stands beside me, dressed in a white dress shirt, and black pants as he smirks at me.

I groan loudly, ignoring his existence as I down the second shot. Shit. The alcohol is hitting me faster than I’d hoped for, and I’m not planning on stopping. Tonight is supposed to be my night. The night I was supposed to get completely drunk and possibly get laid, and then wake up the next morning with a throbbing headache and regret. The regret part is me waking up next to a stranger after we’ve done the deed.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, and I told you to fuck off.” I flash Omar a wicked grin as I roll my eyes, pick up another shot, and gulp it at once.

He smirks with recognition on his face. “Of course, it’s you. The feisty one.”

I scoff.

“How much do I have to pay you to get a taste of you? Name your price. Anything.” What? This asshole’s got some balls.

What’s it with men and not handling rejection like the men they claim to be?

And why do rich men always think money can get them any pussy they choose to have? That’s just sick.

And to think my friend fucked him. Damn.

“Get the fuck out of my face. And if you try as much as to call me a whore again, I’m gonna grab your dick and your balls and I’m gonna squeeze the life out of them so badly you’d wish you didn’t talk to me at all. Now, fuck off.” There’s venom in my tone and the paranoia I’m feeling right now, I secretly wish Omar would say shit so that I can use that as an excuse to hurt him.

I’m drunk and I’m not my best self when I’m drunk.

“You gon’ regret this, cunt.”

“Yeah, you said that last time and you didn’t do shit. Why don’t you go suck yourself off at home, you spineless dick.” I flash him a deviant smirk, daring him for a comeback.

Omar bites his bottom lip, fury in his brown eyes as he clicks his tongue and trots off.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath and grab another shot, throwing my head back and gulping it.

I cough, letting the alcohol burn its way down my throat as I slam the empty shot glass on the counter. I grab my purse and head toward the dance floor, ready to dance my problems away.