Isabela
**Today**
The weather’s been weird today. It started off with a desert-like heat, but now, at night, everything’s cloudy with a cold wind that goes against the saying “hot girls don’t feel cold.” Not even being inside the massive walls of this club has completely warded off the chill. If I had known the weather would turn like this, I would’ve worn something else, something different from this black satin slip dress I’m passing off as a regular dress, styled with nothing but a silver chain belt to cinch it at the waist. It barely covers anything, and I chose it on purpose.
I hope I don’t run into Nate at this club where Cris and I are. But if I do, I want him to witness everything I’m going to offer someone else tonight. I need him to feel what he’s missing, because while he only wants to hurt me, I’m going to show him there are people who want to fuck me— in a good way.
To add some flair to my look, I parted my hair down the middle and tied it into two braids with silicone bands, which I now regret because the cold air is brushing against my neck, making me shiver.
It’s wild to see that this asshole Nate is part of the coolest place I’ve ever seen. The college has its own club, *The Woods*, with entrances both from inside the campus and from the street. They let outsiders in who pay good money to attend these parties, but to get in or out of the private campus area, you need a fingerprint. Only the parties are open to outsiders. *Riot Festivities*, like hazing, for example, are exclusive to students. I’ve recently heard they’re planning a Talent Festival where students can sign up to showcase their art. Cris has been bugging me, all excited for me to sign up for the music show that’ll open the festival.
We’re standing by a small, high table with a round top, which holds a metal bucket of drinks. I rarely drink liquor; I usually stick to beer. Vodka, tequila, or cachaça always leave my stomach burning, which is already messed up from gastritis. I’m not into drugs either, and I told Cris not to use anything, especially since she almost bought a “pill” from that scrawny dealer, the same one I saw during the hazing night. For some reason, he didn’t even glance my way. While trying to sell drugs to Cristina, he kept staring at the dance floor below, like he was hiding from something.
I really want to find someone to hook up with and relieve the absurd desire that’s been torturing my body, so I won’t be able to keep an eye on my friend, which is why I insisted she not use drugs.
I down a few gulps of Budweiser. It’s my fifth bottle of the night. I smile at my friend, who looks stunning. For the first time, I see her in a dress, a short, tight one with a black and dark blue plaid pattern, the perfect tone to match her hair. She’s usually dressed in baggy clothes, reminding me of Isabela after Nate— the Isa who became friends with Ana, who hid her body so her idiot stepfather wouldn’t ogle her. I could only really start dressing the way I like when I turned eighteen and moved out. Since then, I haven’t seen my mom or that scumbag husband of hers. Honestly, I hope my stepfather dies slowly and painfully. Many times I imagine skinning him alive. And I dream that one day Diana will understand everything she did. Even though she was the biggest jerk to me, her own daughter, I still love her. And loving her feels like a festering wound in my body, it hurts, tears me apart. Even though I’ve never sought her out again and nothing will ever make me want to see her again, I still foolishly wish my mom would look for me, realize her mistakes, and ask for forgiveness.
I’m such a fool!
I judge her as a woman completely devoid of a soul. After all, the only time she chose me was that night, though I’m sure she did it because she was about to lose me for good. I shake my head. I dismiss those damn thoughts, pushing her out of my head, along with all the tangled mess that’s tied to my mother.
I focus on the scene. Cris nailed it, scoring tickets for the *Singles Night* VIP lounge, which is really just a dance party. All the parties here have a different music theme, and tonight it’s Funk. Getting into the VIP lounge is one of the reasons I agreed to come. I do go to parties on the floor, but I end up leaving quickly if it gets too crowded, with people bumping into me.
“Hmm... Look at that hottie!” Cris shouts as loud as she can, trying to drown out the blaring music, which makes the room feel like it’s shaking from the intensity of the sound. She pouts her lips and points at a group of guys a few meters away from us. They’re drinking like crazy, some vaping, others buying shady stuff from the wannabe *Riot* dealer.
Did Nate approve this guy selling drugs here, or is he doing it on the sly? I remember Nate grabbing him by the collar... Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nate gave the go-ahead for the trafficking here. He used to be a stoner when he was younger. And his whole graffiti crew used that crap, even Bianca.
I turn back to the group of men Cris pointed out. One of them, tall, with prominent muscles, clear and expressive eyes, smiles at her, biting his full lip in such a way that would make anyone say, *“fuck me.”*
“I think I’ve already secured a dick for tonight,” she announces excitedly, winking provocatively at the guy.
I grin widely at my friend, who leaves me behind and walks toward him. Hell yeah! No more crying over that jerk Vitor! I feel proud to see her so pumped up to move on.
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