Chapter 49
"What took you so long?" I asked, rolling my eyes as I locked the door behind me and walked out. Fatima stood there, looking effortlessly gorgeous.
She was dressed to kill: black skintight leather pants that hugged her curves, a see-through grey tank top that showed just enough to turn heads, and black biker boots that made her look like she had just stepped out of a fashion shoot. Her makeup was flawless, with smokey eyes and bold red lipstick that matched her fierce attitude. She had her long, dark hair tied back in a high ponytail, giving her an air of power and danger.
"I'm only thirty minutes late, geez," she huffed, giving me a once-over. "But damn, you look beautiful. Yummy, even." She smirked as she gave me a playful wink.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Thanks, you look hot too. Every guy at that club is going to be drooling all over you."
She grinned mischievously. "And I’ll smack every single one of them if they even think about messing up my outfit." She slid into the driver's seat of her sleek black car, and I hopped into the passenger side. Soon, we were speeding off toward the club where tonight’s party was being held.
The minute we arrived, I knew I should have refused to come. The club was packed wall to wall with bodies grinding against each other, loud music thumping through the air, and drunk people already stumbling around like it was the end of the world.
Fatima led us straight to the VIP section, thankfully, where it was a little more civilized. About fifteen people sat on plush leather couches, sipping drinks, smoking, and dancing to the music. She guided me toward a small group, and I immediately noticed a tall, handsome man standing among them.
"Prisca, meet my cousin, Umar Hassan," Fatima shouted over the music. Umar was undeniably attractive, with chiseled features and an athletic build that filled out his grey suit perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes were a striking shade of grey—just like Fatima’s.
"Nice to meet you, Prisca," Umar said, shaking my hand. His grip was strong, and he held on a little longer than necessary, flashing a charming grin that made me blush.
I pulled my hand back, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you too."
"Take a seat, please," he said, gesturing to one of the leather couches. I sat down opposite him, trying not to let his good looks distract me.
Umar quickly joined me, sliding into the seat next to mine. "Can I get you a drink, beautiful?" he asked, leaning in close. His voice was smooth, almost too smooth.
I smiled politely and nodded, even though my mind was elsewhere. Jake. I couldn't stop thinking about him. No matter how hard I tried to move on, his face haunted me. But Umar didn’t seem to get the hint as he poured me a glass of expensive red wine from an unopened bottle. The night wore on, and soon the alcohol had loosened me up more than I anticipated.
Before long, I found myself on the dance floor with Umar, the alcohol making my limbs feel light and carefree. Fatima, on the other hand, had found herself entangled with a blonde girl named Sasha—or was it Salsa?—in a heated make-out session on the other side of the dance floor.
Umar spun me around, his hands landing firmly on my waist. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "And sexy."
I giggled, intoxicated not just by the alcohol but by the heat of the moment. "I like your hair," I blurted out, barely able to keep a straight face.
He laughed heartily. "Thank you, baby," he said, pulling me closer and kissing me wildly. At first, I kissed him back, but suddenly, my stomach lurched violently.
Before I knew it, I was throwing up all over him.
"Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!" I gasped in horror, stumbling backward as I tried to wipe at the mess I had just made. "That came out of nowhere!"
Umar sighed, surprisingly calm despite being covered in vomit. "It’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up," he said, gently grabbing my hand and leading me toward the ladies' room.
He followed me inside—much to the shock of the women already in there—and helped me to the sink. I leaned heavily against the counter as he took off his stained grey shirt, revealing a plain white T-shirt underneath. He bent down to wipe the vomit off his shoes with a roll of toilet paper, his movements calm and collected.
"You should rinse your mouth," he said, guiding me toward the faucet. I stumbled again, my head spinning.
He knelt down in front of me, helping to remove my shoes, and I giggled drunkenly. "You look so hot down there."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And you, beautiful, are very drunk," he said, dabbing at my mouth with a paper towel.
A couple of women gave us side-eyes as they entered the restroom, but they didn’t say anything. Umar finished cleaning me up and then helped me back to the VIP section, where we found Fatima stumbling around, just as intoxicated as I was.
"Oh my gosh!" she slurred, stumbling over her words. "I was looking… all over… for you!" She hiccupped, throwing her arms around Umar’s neck.
Umar groaned, clearly done with the night. "I’m taking both of you home right now," he said, waving over one of his security guards. Within minutes, we were being escorted to a huge black SUV waiting outside the club.
Umar settled us into the car, Fatima now half asleep on my shoulder, and gave the driver an address.
**********
I woke up the next morning with the worst headache of my life. The throbbing pain behind my eyes made it hard to think straight, and I felt like I had been run over by a truck.
Groaning, I rolled out of bed and barely made it to the bathroom before I started throwing up again. This time, it felt even worse. My entire body felt drained and weak, and I could barely stand on my own.
I looked around and realized I was at Fatima’s house. I had been here before for a sleepover, so I knew that the bathroom was right across from her bedroom. After another round of puking, I sank to the floor, my forehead resting against the cool tiles.
This wasn’t just a hangover. Something felt seriously wrong.
"We’re going to see a doctor right now," Fatima said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. Her face was filled with concern, and for once, her usual teasing demeanor was gone.
I nodded weakly, unable to argue. I needed help, and I needed it fast.
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