After dinner at Roko and half-off Mojitos at Belique, my stomach swells with the feeling of being extremely full, stuffed to the brim with vegan dynamite rolls, white rum, and soda water. It's such a concern for my food baby that as Parker dials for an Uber, Melissa and I make a break for the bathroom to check if our stomachs are bulging out in our figure-hugging dresses.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Surprisingly, my body is still intact despite stuffing myself full of food, sugar, and alcohol. While I don't have naturally big boobs like Luciana or a twenty-three-inch waist like Parker or a lean and mean body like Carmen, I have some pretty good curves leading from my doll waist to my slightly larger curves. My rear is the only thing I'm actually proud of. Nonetheless, I look Elite-material. Beverly Hills' tanned skin, hazel eyes, golden hair bleached to perfection where even the roots reflect a tawny halo colour, a heart-shaped face, and plump lips. I have to admit going blonde to fit into the agenda of Amory Scout is one of the best decisions I've ever made.

"You know I'm sort of surprised."

"Hmm?" I prompt as I reapply my Charlotte Tilbury lipstick, a shade which Luciana describes as 'guaranteed to get you any action, ten out of ten'.

Melissa tucks in a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear as she checks for any smudges. "That Carmen was so okay with you joining so fast," she says, "Especially without an Initiation."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Don't act stupid, Scout," Melissa snaps at me, "Everybody knows what it is. Initiation is a game you play and if you play it well, Carmen decides whether you're worthy or not to be part of the Elite."

"I've never heard of this game." Lies but pretenses have to be maintained.

"You'll see," Melissa muses. "Hopefully, your victim is a good choice. God forbid they do it to someone who doesn't deserve it."

"You say it like it's some sort of a secret society," I scoff, trying to be jokey but seriousness never strays from Melissa's pretty face.

"I'm serious, Scout. You're going to have to decide if it's worth all of it," Melissa advises as she dusts excessive blush away from her cheeks, coating it with some powder. "I know that it seems fantastic- but popularity comes at a price. And you have to decide what you are willing to sacrifice- your morals, your heart- in order to get it.

"Wow," is all I can say.

"I know," breathes Melissa. She turns to fully register me and chucks her compact into her makeup bag before sealing it back into her clutch. She pulls on a spare strand that has wandered away from my ponytail and smiles at me, genuinely, but I can see pieces of her flaking away; there are tears in her eyes and I wonder if she regretted being a foolhardy teenager in the past for trying so hard to get into the ranks of the Elite and now she can't get out. "Here, let me fix your hair."

Her gentle hand skims towards my forehead and pucks out the hair tie, letting my blonde hair fall into volume. She caresses the sides of my skull as she scoops up an abundance of my long blonde hair and scrunches it up in a ponytail, making sure she doesn't miss one strand of hair as she ties it up high. When she's done, Nadine knocks on the bathroom door.

"Are you guys ready? The uber is here."

-

"THE INNER HOE IS COMING OUT TONIGHT!" screams a very tipsy Luciana when we all pile out of the car. She's already gone on two and a half mojitos from Belique and even though her last drink was twenty minutes ago, she's still deeply affected by the rum in her system.

"What inner hoe?" I smirk at her but I'm equally elated as I laugh at her when she tumbles in her heels on the curb towards Mahiki. The building seems to be vibrating and throbbing with the pulse of it's own music, letting the queue congesting the entrance feel the dark thrums. "I thought your hoe is both inside and outside."

Luciana erupts into laughter, slapping me hard on the arm as the other girls titter in giggles, "True," Luciana jabs a finger at me, "Amy here has a point."

"Amy?"

"Our nickname for you," Luciana elaborates, now reaching for my hair. I push her hand away, scared she might ruin it.

"You're such a fucking lightweight," Parker comments, shaking her head, as we escort a tumbling and free-wheeling Luciana towards Mahiki, hoping they'll still let us in despite her state. Wait till they see that five hundred dollar tip then they'll definitely let us in. "How the hell are you already fucked?"

"Hey, I pay less to get drunk! Get on my level, bitch."

"Jesus Christ," grumbles Carmen good-naturedly, rubbing her temples. She exchanges a look of amusement with me and I feel a flutter of butterflies, because Carmen Calloway is looking at me to share hilarious moments with. Does this mean she finally trusted me? You never know. I take Melissa's word into account about Initiation. I'll never be certain what they'll throw at me.

But something has been shown to me. It's just: what is it? Like the flag of an unknown country, seen for an instant above a curve of hill. It could mean attack, it could mean parley, it could mean the edge of something, a territory. The signals animals give one another: lowered blue eyelids, ears laid back, raised hackles. A flash of bared teeth. What in hell is she planning? Why is she looking at me as if we've been best friends for ages, laughing at the situation with me instead of excluding me out of the picture and the circle like she usually does?

Or am I over-analyzing again?

Getting in was no problem. When the bouncer saw Luciana stumbling, they weren't willing to let us in at first. Until Carmen performed her magic by talking to the management, flashing out her premium credit card, and dropping her name casually as they realized she's the daughter of the man who just made the top spot in Forbes magazine.

"We're getting VIP, fuckers," croons Carmen when she returns to us. We're behind the red velvet rope, waiting and holding Luciana steady to ensure she doesn't start doing anything life-threatening.

"How did you do that?" I am amazed as the bouncer, who has rudely told us to fuck off just ten minutes ago, offer sincere apologies and even asks if he could put our coats in the employee lockers to keep it safe, free of charge.

"Just spend fifty-thousand dollars a night at their place?" Parker shoots me a duh look.

I almost gag, spitting non-existent food onto the floor. "Fifty-thousand dollars?" For one night?!

"Um yeah," Carmen shrugs indifferently, "It's just pocket change, really."

"Welcome to New York, Amy," Nadine crows, looking quite menacing for a sophomore hanging out with seniors. I refuse to let myself be intimidated by a sixteen-year-old so I squint my eyes at her as if she's dirt below my stilettos. "We do it big here."

The bouncer escorts us into Mahiki, whose decor revolves around a Hawaii Beach theme. It is a two story-building, spacious with oak paneling, palm trees resurrected as pillars, an in-built wooden balcony, decorated with grass, umbrellas, floral crowns, and fake coconuts, comfortable rattan beach lounges with throw pillows spread across the area in colors of shades of blue, from cobalt to navy to turquoise to robin blue. Low rattan glass tables range in prices; the higher the price, the bigger the table so I'm not surprised when the bouncer brings us up to the balcony and shows us to a massive table with slatted wood fencing surrounding it. The bouncer unlocks the fence and lets us in, then proceeds towards the bar where our bottles are awaiting us.

"Girls."

Before we even been blessed with the chance to sit down, our night has been interrupted by the one and only Orson Calloway. Standing in the dark and LED lights of the club, bathing and falling in colors across the floor: red and blue, purple, Orson and his cavalry emerges from the shadows; boys from various sport teams and the original crew- Hanif, Phineas and Aiden- all flocking around the fenced area.

"A party without us?" Hanif exclaims in disapproval.

"It's girls' night!" slurs Luciana, "So get the fuck away from us."

"Jesus, how much has she already had to drink?" Phineas scrunches his forehead.

"Two and a half mojitos," Parker informs.

"Only?"

"Lightweight problems," the Conroy twins reply in perfect synchronization.

"That aside," Orson licks his lips, gaze scraping through all of us and he finishes it with me. A cold smirk looms on my face when his eyes land on me and I tilt my head away to stop our staring contest in order to show I'm not even remotely interested; "why weren't we made aware of this little get together?"

"Because it's girls' night," Luciana retorts, "And last I checked, you aren't a girl. Not everything is about you, Orson."

And like that, clarity descends upon me. The whole reason for Luciana staging a Girls' Night at Mahiki is because she must've known Orson and his friends were going there this Friday night in the first place and she purposely made it a Girls' Night with the intention of not inviting him so that when he saw her and her friends at Mahiki, he'd be disillusioned with the idea that she never even bothered to call him out, despite being best friends. I examine Luciana's body language, searching for signs to validate my claims. The way she positions herself, her bitter acidic tone, close but not too close, lips tightened, hips cocked, eyes flashing; she's in love with him but he clearly isn't. I thought whatever happened between them was entirely physical but not for Luciana, apparently.

"I'm wounded," though he sounds otherwise; "Thought I meant much more to you than that."

She recoils as if she's been slapped in the face. Sympathy crackles under my surface but I don't let it overtake me because I can't afford that luxury. "You know exactly what you mean to me."

Does he? Luciana thinks she's fooling everyone with the idea that she never catches feelings and the relationship stigma has never appealed to her but nobody can ever officially proclaim they're heartless.

Not even me.

"It doesn't matter," Carmen intervenes smartly before anybody's heart could get broken, "Everybody is here. We might as well join tables."

"You fucking kidding me?" mutters Luciana but she goes unheard.

"I'll get the guy," Aidan nods.

Once the rearrangements are sorted, the VIP section becomes overcrowded with Kensington's most popular members and it's hard to believe I have succeeded in being one of them. Bottles the size as bodies are delivered to our tables; Moet and Patron flowing freely from the tables as the night transitions into a livelier, rowdier mood.

"901 shelby drive," Luciana circles her finger in motion, going all the way up as she gyrates on the couch. She loops a playful arm around me and grins toothily at me.

"You're so drunk," I laugh as I sip tentatively on the Cognac and rock my head to Drake playing in the background.

"That's why you need to chug," she pushes my glass further up my mouth, "and get to my level of fuckery. Chug, Ames, chug!"

"Alright!" I yell back, almost peeing in laughter as she continues the chant, inciting me into peer pressure.

"CHUG, YOU BITCH!"

I flip her the bird and chuck the Hennessee down my throat, loving the pain and the burn as it goes down. It's been ages since I've drank this much and God, I miss this fucking feeling of being so free.

"Yes!" Luciana fist-pumps and snatches a tequila shot from the platter of salt and lime rimmed glasses, then hands it to me. "Now take another."

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" I accuse her.

Parker, who overheard us, sends me a wicked grin; her pupils are dilated with alcohol and she's not as drunk as Luciana but she's almost there. "Probably couldn't resist that sweet ass of yours."

"She's right," Luciana jokes, winking saliciously at me, "I have a weakness for white girls with Spanish asses."

"Fuck off," I shake my head but I'm doubling up in pure ecstasy. When I'm in control of my laughter, I recklessly swallow the shot with ease without the need of the lime. Three mojitos at Belique, a shot and two glasses of Henessee hasn't hit me yet but I should slow down before I transcend a point of no return and make a fool of myself.

"I wanna dance," moans Luciana, staggering onto her heels. She tugs at Parker and I, rousing the other girls in motion. "Come on, let's go dance."

"Hold on, let me- uh- get one more drink," I tell Luciana lamely when I'm really about to head to the bar for a glass of water to sober me up. Luciana's expression shatters and then I amend my statement, "I'll just be a while. I'll join you guys later."

Luciana accepts that and drags Parker, Melissa, and Nadine out down the balcony towards the raving dance floor. I sigh in relief, collect my bag, and am about to leave for the bar when Orson distracts me. "Amory, babe, can you cig me?"

Orson smirks when I crane my head towards the far end of the table and start to approach him. Bailey lounges right next to Orson, coiled and draped around him like an accessory, her tongue is his ear. One hand of his is occupied by a glass of Hennessee and the other is under Bailey's hiked-up skirt, knuckles deep inside of her. I widen my eyes at the sudden confrontation of such a lewd display, especially since Orson is just casually fingering a girl in public while exchanging small talk with me. He must be one slick multitasking motherfucker. I try not to stare but Orson catches me looking and his smirk stretches larger.

"Want to join?" he chuckles when I retreat my stares like a child being caught redhanded with the cookie jar.

"Um-" I flail like a fish, embarrassment real this time.

"Mm, don't tease her," Bailey smiles seductively at me, gazing at me through her half-lidded eyes. "Don't be afraid, Scout."

It's like the most awkward form of voyeurism: me intruding while they're clearly going at it. "It's fine; I'll just go to the-"

"There's no need to go to the bar for drinks." Orson plants his glass down and pushes it in my direction. He points generously to the half-empty bottles of Bacardi, all of which range from a quarter filled to barely opened. "Let's see if your limit is really as good as you say it is."

I narrow my eyes and cock a hip to one side; my lips wrangle into something that offers a challenge. "You're saying I'm a liar?"

His eyebrows arches; his other hand delves deeper into Bailey, earning a soft moan. I scan the people around us; as there's quite a considerable amount of crowd at the balcony, wondering how the hell they didn't notice what's going on. "Maybe, what will you do about it?"

Regret courses through my veins but it doesn't stop me as I discard the glass he offered me and go straight for the bottle. I unscrew the cap and drink straight from it, eliciting a rush of serotonin and adrenaline as I swallow three heavy mouthfuls. I haven't binge-drink like this in ages and I know plunging down that path is a slippery slope, hoping it wouldn't spiral me into another addiction.

"Is that good enough for you?" And with that, I swing the bottle towards my side and head to the dance floor, letting him watch me take subsequent drinks out of the bottle as I travel down from the balcony.

I gulp down another celebratory hit and surrender to the buzz settling into my mind like a sweet, saccharine whisper and the hard trap music and its synthetic beats that passes by me without much acknowledgment before it starts sounding like the best music ever. I throw a side glance back as I walk away and he's watching me again as he did at Hanif's, and he's hooked, intrigued even though he's knuckling deep in another girl.

Part of me is also entrenched in the mystery that's Orson Calloway. I ought to feel hatred for this man. I know I ought to feel it but it isn't what I feel. Not anymore, not now when he's looking at me and I'm looking back; as much as I hate him, there's an enigma about him that piques my interest, maybe it's his lack of care for emotions, maybe it's because I can understand how that's like. What I feel for him has evolved into something more complicated than hate. I don't know what to call it. It isn't love.

-

finally updated lmao, so sorry for the delay! life has been so hectic lately x 

dedicated to sugarsoaked for being an absolute sweetheart!!!