Set on You by Amy Lea

Author:Amy Lea [Lea, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

chapter nineteen

STILL REELING FROM our kiss in the fire truck, I pick up snacks on my way home for girls’ night. A rom-com and a deep-dive risk analysis on the merits of abandoning or abiding by my three-month rule are just what I need right now.

But by the time I get home, Tara and Mel have changed the plans without bothering to consult me. They’re in crisis mode. Tara is “distraught” over her new bob à la Khloe Kardashian, which she’s convinced has ruined her face (it hasn’t). And worse, Mel had an epic fight with her boyfriend. I hide my face in a pillow and dramatically pretend to sob when they announce the new plan to “dance our troubles away” at the club.

Half a drink in, and the reason clubs are no longer my scene becomes oh so apparent. Instead of wearing my trusty Lulus, I’m in a one-piece jumper that’s giving me a perma-wedgie. Wherever I go, my sense of smell is assaulted by a mixture of B.O., heavy perfume, and the rose incense diffused throughout the velvet-wallpapered space.

Mel and Tara are in their element, dancing and flirting with strangers, acquiring enough free drinks to render them halfway eligible for a stomach pump.

One of Mel’s friends, Kelly, has met us here. She’s equally as gorgeous as Mel. Asian and tall, almost lanky. Unlike Mel and Tara, who are dolled up in four-inch heels and dresses plastered to their skin, Kelly is wearing Birkenstocks and a baggy T-shirt that reads NOPE, paired with silky pajama-like pants that do not match in any way, shape, or form. It’s ratchet as hell, but I dig it.

Apparently, everyone else does too. Even though Kelly isn’t flaunting her assets, she’s attracting the attention of literally every guy in this club. They’re descending on her like moths to a porchlight. She’s one of those girls who emits this welcoming, free-spirit, manic pixie vibe but will crush your heart all the same. She probably leaves a trail of salty tears and broken hearts wherever she goes, which is fitting, because she’s a travelgrammer.

Even though I’m being a miserable wench keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings, I’m pleased Tara is letting loose. After breaking up with Seth, I wasn’t sure she’d ever make a full recovery. Watching her slow-grind against a guy who looks eerily like the Weeknd gives me renewed hope.

Mel pulls me from my safe space on the sidelines and onto the crowded, sweltering dance floor, nearly sploshing me with her rum and coke.

“I’m fine here holding the purses and making sure you guys don’t get roofied,” I explain, hoping my mom mode will ward her off.

“Come on! You’re being a buzzkill!” she shouts over the house music, slapping me square on the boob.

I sigh, appeasing them for a couple songs. As I sway awkwardly to the music, I’m having a hard time understanding how I used to do this on the regular back in college. Dancing with Tara, Mel, and Kelly isn’t the problem.

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