Dirty Beginning (Dirty 0.50)

I have a terrible feeling about tonight. I shouldn’t be doing this. My father is going to be pissed when I don’t call him tonight. But what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll get drunk and end up puking on Scarlett’s couch. My father will yell at me tomorrow for the first time in five years. Then, everyone will get over it. It’s not like one mistake can ruin your life .

Except , I think as I pause at the open door of my apartment, one mistake can .

I shake my head. That was five years ago. This is nothing like that. This time, it won’t be a mistake .

T he bouncer hands me my ID that I slip back into my clutch, and then I follow Scarlett down the stairs to the bar. I’ve never been into a bar before—at least not one like this with bouncers—but I try to keep an open mind as I enter the bar that is, for some reason, below a building. There are no windows as I look around the barely lit room. The smell takes me a bit to get used to. A mix of sweat, puke, and urine makes my nose scrunch .

The noise though is what makes me want to turn around and run out. It’s loud. No, it’s louder than loud, eardrum-bursting loud. A band is playing on the far side of the bar although I don’t hear a word they are singing over the bass thumping loudly throughout the room. The place is crowded, much more crowded than what is probably legal for such a small space .

Drinks , Scarlett mouths to me .

Or it’s what I assume she mouths before she begins making her way through the crowd up to the bar .

I follow Scarlett as I watch people staring at us. It’s not unusual. In fact, it feels pretty normal to have people stare at us. I jump when someone slaps my ass. I glance back and see a man devouring me with his eyes as he whistles my way. I blush, shake my head, and keep walking behind Scarlett. I don’t know how else to react to a man slapping my ass. Scarlett probably would have punched the guy or made out with him .

We finally make it to the bar, but there is only enough room for Scarlett to stand at the counter .

“Excuse me,” she says to a man sitting on the stool next to

her. “Do you mind moving, so my friend can sit here ?”

She flutters her eyes in his direction, and I know the answer will be yes. The only person who doesn’t give Scarlett an immediate yes is me, and even then it’s usually maybe. I can never flat-out say no to her. No one can .

“If you let me buy you a drink,” the man says in return as soon as he sees Scarlett .

“Sure.” Her eyes light up at an offer from an attractive man. “I’m Scarlett. This is Kinsley .”

I smile shyly at the man. He barely glances my way before focusing back on Scarlett. I’m happy the attention isn’t on me .

“I’m Adam. So, what will it be ?”

“I’ll have a couple of shots of tequila and then a margarita,” she says .

My eyes widen as she casually reaches out and touches the stranger’s arm. She slowly strokes his arm while their eyes stay locked on each other .

I sigh. At this rate, we will never get drinks, and I’ll never get out of here .

“And what will you have?” another deep voice says, causing me to glance away from Scarlett and Adam .

“What?” I ask, startled, as I look at the man standing behind Adam .

He has bright blue eyes, similar to mine, with blond hair a slightly darker shade than my own .

He grins as I stare too long at his hard body. I’ve seen enough models’ bodies before to know what they look like. He’s a model. His friend, who has maintained Scarlett’s attention, might work out, but he’s no model .

“I’m Brent .”

“Kinsley,” I say. I smile, but I honestly have no idea how to flirt with this man. I’m not bold enough to make the first move. And I don’t even know if I’m attracted to him. So, instead, I just stand awkwardly with a goofy smile plastered on my face .

“Can I buy you a drink ?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to mimic Scarlett’s speech, but it comes out much too high-pitched .

He raises his eyebrows. “What can I get you ?”

I try to rack my brain to come up with a drink he can order for me. Scarlett got shots. I glance over as she downs one with her new friend. She doesn’t even seem to remember that I’m here. I try to think of drinks, but all I can come up with is wine and champagne. I doubt this bar even serves the types of wine I’ve tried before. I could try a beer, but I have no idea what to order, and I will look even stupider if I order a beer without mentioning the brand .

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I say .