"It's nice," I mumble between mouthfuls of the delectable omelette Melian has made for me. She's quiet as usual; I'm now used to being the only one making almost all of the conversation minus the times she hums or occasionally talks like a normal person. Melian has always been quite quiet of a person, only gossiping with me to death occasionally. However, when we are down to topics of her interest- like the stupid biology, her mouth almost kills me.

"Mmm," she mumbles and concentrates on her eggplant. I hate eggplant- Ian pretty much eats everything and anything which is edible. Ian being short for Melian- Mel is too common of a nickname and Melian is just a long-ass, old-fashioned word.

"How's work?" I ask her curiously, making it my aim to drag a few words out of her mouth. Oh, it's such a pain in the ass to get to my last resort, her job, every time. She'll now probably perk up like a fucking notification.

Melian Frostine is just as her name suggests- frosty and an ice princess, but not the kind who looks down at people. She's the kind of nerd who's quite sophisticated- an intellectual genius who denies the offer of being social for once. Melian Frostine is the studious kind who doesn't normally speak unless she's spoken to. She's the kind who steers clear of guys and bitchy girlish squealing and conversation, scrunches her nose at makeup stores and rolls her eyes at sappy dramas- every bit that I need in my best friend is right in there, beside me, eating eggplant.

Now, the food choices and silence can be avoided.

Melian stays in the flat opposite to mine. She's more of a morning shift person- I'm the night shift kind, but, office sucks and I will have to wake up, ugh. Speaking of Ian, she's one of Cali's top surgeons in Ronald Reagan UCLA hospitals. She was a sucker for biology since she was a child, her nose either in a biology book or hands always at the hobby she loved- painting. Painting stuff meant the world to her- and her fingers were God-gifted all the same, adding liveliness to every stroke of her brush.

"Good," she mumbled and looked up at me. I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh out, "Today will roll out with one-word answers from you, you duck. I'm trying, for God's sake!"

"Erm," she mumbled, the smile back on her face, her cheeks flashing embarrassment, "It's the work and stuff. I'm just bored and tired."

"Bro, why am I even here?!" I feign surprise, "I only came so that my best friend Ian, who always looks up to me as a role model and an inspiration in her life, would be happy," I place the fork down and push the bowl of soup towards her.

"That's enough," she rolled her eyes, "You talk too big, Isa. Now, now, don't make me force the soup down your throat as well. It's good for your health."

"Yeah, sure, Doc-tor," I say with a glint of sarcasm and she shakes her head in visible exasperation, "I need a break, for God's sake," she looks at the ceiling while she mumbles and then looks at me out of the corner of her eyes, "Isa, you should be the one initiating this, but," she sighs, "I wait and wait and you don't come up with the brilliant idea, but oh, giiiiirl," she stretches it out and I narrow my eyes in suspicion at her forthcoming attitude, "I needa get drunk."

"Are you saying, wait, no-," I pause and press the back of my hand to her forehead, "No, you're not ill- you want to go clubbing?!"

"Yep," she pops the 'p', pouting.

I sit cross legged on the chair, "An interesting aspect of a parallel universe. Perhaps, somewhere," I act as if explaining stuff in a geography class. She flashes a poker face at me.

"I really do," she shrugs, "I haven't been to a bar since, like," she starts thinking and counting on her fingers and finally flashes four fingers, "Four years. The last time, it was when I was promoted to the Chief Surgeon of Neurosurgery and Cardiac Surgery."

"Obviously, that too when I dragged you, practically," I roll my eyes.

"That's what I'm saying!" Her eyes light up like Christmas lights, "There's a new flashy bar I pass on my way to the hospital every time. I keep looking at it but I know I can never go in there alone," a sad smile replaces the bright one on her face, "The guilt of being at a bar would eat away at me, well because," she purses her lips, "I'm studying Cancer Surgery in detail."

"You're still at it," I sigh and close my eyes. This woman is mad.

"Biology is an extensive subject. Being a doctor comes with the extra responsibilities of developing new ways of easy treatment-"

"Yeah, yeah," I stop her, "Well, if you're interested, the great ice queen," I shrug, "Fri night. The two of us."

"Heck yeah, giiiiiirl," she says, as if already in a drunken stupor, "Finally."

I smile down at Melian Frostine grinning in glee at the thought of the drinking and clubbing. Melian's the kind of person who seems unreliable but I've known her my entire life, practically. She might be complicated to put up with, but once you get the hang of 'How to be Best Friends with Melian Frostine- an Extensive Guidebook', you're all set. Melian is a friend of whom I wouldn't be getting a second piece, so I might as well treasure this one.

Friday night rolls around faster than I can realize it has. Melian has already called my thrice during the day to remind me of the plans and she also grins like a witch as she tells me that she's getting a little something for me. I'm all bummed, Melian Frostine seems strong, but she's a freaking lightweight, and my light weight definitely won't help even if her body weighs light too. She's the kind who'll be wobbling just with two mildly concentrated shots, so I'm in for a long night- definitely some throwing up to come. Anyways, I'm coming, vodka. It's been ages since I've kissed vodka.

I sigh deeply when the phone next to me lights up and the familiar tone of Chrissy Constanza hits my ears powerfully as she belts out Phoenix by League of Legends. That game is frickin' popular, though. However much I like Melian, she's just being too weird. She knows I'm the partying kind- she must be really fed up and exhausted if she's being this forthcoming.

"Melian, don't chew me. No, my head, you're gobbling it up whole! You're such a pain in the ass today, Melian," I mutter. I'm super exasperated- Partying is nice, but when Melian is being such a pain in the ass, I can't suppress the urge to shove a bottle up her butthole.

"Yep. You know the directions, yeah?"

"I do, woman. Leave me alone- I might even crash into a car somewhere. Also, two Scotches. Please," I mutter, drained by today's work, occasionally pressed the bridge of my nose. The Blue Ray glasses do not work on my eyes anymore."

I pull in front of the upscale club. It is expensive looking and elite. It's more bar than discotheque, but you can certainly catch a groove at Tease Beat. It's relatively new than the more gothic bars in the area- but what in the name of Christ do I also know? Almost three years is a long time.

I show the pass that Melian had forced into my office backpack, saying I'm forgetful enough and will probably leave it behind. The guards are burly and strong; as they check my backpack, I wonder how much strength one of them would have to apply to kill me. Apparently, negligible pressure.

"Welcome to Tease Beat. Have a great time," one of them smiles and lets me in. I nod and strep inside what seems- wait, well, uh. I step inside an absolutely awesome place lit with the brightest of neon and designed to look like a posh, classy nightclub with a sophisticated crowd. The venue has a huge indoor dance floor, as well as a spacious outdoor patio area for people who need a minute to decompress or chill.

More like, make out, but, well, I'd ignore that if I were the perverted person who's smiling while reading this.

The venue emphasizes on how timeless design, attention to detail, and endless hospitality are all it takes to create a kind of experience that will never go out of style. The details on my pass say that my booking has been done on the topmost floor- in short, the most elite, posh and 'expensive' part of the already pricey looking nightclub. What was Ian even thinking, that overconfident piece of shit?! As I ride the elevator, I gawk openly at the sights- perks of the glass elevator. Located 61 floors up in a high-rise building in the middle of Downtown Los Angeles, Tease Beat's VIP Lounge offers a bar, dance club, and corporate event space for its clients.the focus is on the view, and you will certainly be able to have the unique experience of being to feel like you were out in the open with its large exposed patio and minimalistic architectural elements of glass and chrome. The focus is on the view, and you will certainly be able to have the unique experience of being to feel like you were out in the open with its large exposed patio and minimalistic architectural elements of glass and chrome.

"Isaaaaa," I hear Ian's voice rolling my name across her tongue. I roll my eyes at the sight of her. However, Melian looks absolutely gorgeous like she always is. She absolutely rocks the dress she's wearing- a black gold sequin dress with a deep V in the front and the hem of the expensive looking dress upto the middle of her rosy beige thighs. I'd be more clumsy in the kind of shoes she's sporting- deep blue platform heels.

"You look great, Ian," I compliment her and she blushes like she does, "But you so probably fit in to the venue, woman," she tells me, "If you were to be photographed while sitting on one of these sofas, you'd look like a perfect businesswoman sporting beauty, intelligence, confidence and smartness."

I'm sure I look nothing like Melian who's dressed to the nines for the occasion. Melian, though a quiet being, has always had a soft spot for pretty nail paint. But she's never gone as far as that deep of a V in the chest department, however she's more gifted than me in those sections. Little lanky me looking like a too-tall teenager in all the wrong clothes, meanwhile.

"Bro, you gotta check this place out," she almost shrieks, unable to contain her excitement, "it's just so dope, and wonderful, and, ooh," she closes her eyes, as if drinking the atmosphere in, "I could come here all day."

It's rare to see Melian happy- she's the serious kind. Around me, she's more laid back and a bit more talkative, but at school, she's always been the shy person of both of us. Whereas I'd rather spark a conversation with a mean comeback, she'd be the one saying 'hello' if only forced to make friends with someone. Her job and all the sights must stress her out- I know how optimistic of a person Melian Frostine is, ice queen or not.

"And," she flashes a grin at me, "Scotch on the rocks. Macallan. Suits a gorgeous, confident business woman who's looking the part all the same," she hands the glass out to me.

"Sure, thanks," I mutter and take a sip of the much needed scotch. I've already decided I want to down some vodka next, but I'll probably have to leave Melian out of this- I don't want to be awkward in front of some random stranger because my friend is an absolute lightweight, has passed out and I need help. I'd do it without hesitation if it ever came to it, though. Melian has been a lifesaver for me almost my whole life- pulling me out of brawls, fights and what not.

The club is more luxurious than I think- with a secluded space for people who'd, you know, want a random screw. The middle of the space is set up for something I'm surprised by- a strip session. I never thought Melian would agree to come to this sort of place, much less offer from her side. Men lounge on the couches with glasses in their hands, enjoying whatever funny kind of dancing the strippers perform. The entire area is lit by chrome lights and Melian pulls me towards the counter. I seat myself on one of the bar stools and drum my fingers on the edge of the counter, placing an order for a glass of Absolut Crystal Pinstripe. Being the most iconic and exclusive of it's kind, the Absolut Crystal Pinstripe Black is one of my favorite kinds of vodka, though pricey- but it's worth it. With a dark taste, it rolls down my throat, leaving the entire trail on fire- a kind of fire that licks my mind towards comfort.

"Your standards have gone high, now," Melian chuckles, "Haven't they?"

"It's obvious, Ian," I shrug, "So have yours. Knowing you, you'd come to my birthday party wearing a dress with a tightly fitted corset and a fluffy skirt and I still wouldn't doubt your dressing sense," I mutter, remembering how modest and goddamn old-fashioned she used to be.

"That was a Melian from the past," she lets out a smile, but I know there's much more to it- though, I don't question it. I never do.

She sips her gin and tonic slowly, my eyes trained on her so as to take care that she doesn't have too much. My eyes wander around the place. People jam to the heavy music on the dance floor. From the lazy spin of the people, to the recumbent light of eventide that will soon be starlit black, the bar soaks in the ambiance of this good night.

"A whiskey, please, the Glenfiddich Rare Collection, if you have it," I belt out at the bartender, who cannot be much older than twenty. Probably a part-time job? I vaguely remember the times when I used to be working part-time.

"Anything for a pretty woman," he smiles but not too perverted-ly. I smile back. He pours the amber colored liquid in a glasses and pushes it towards me. "Nothing is more captivating than watching a woman drinking whiskey."

The whiskey is golden in color, with a nose of vibrant, vanilla oak notes and a rich creme brulee sweetness- mingling with baked apple, toasted almonds and a subtle cinnamon spice. The taste is rich in my mouth with the deep taste of creamy toffee vanilla, oak tannins, woody spices and caramelized orange peels. A long lasting oaky sweet completes the exquisite drink.

"Why, you seem to think women do not prefer whiskey?" I question him, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. He lets out a small chuckle. "No, don't take me wrong," he puts his hands up in surrender, "But I've noticed women preferring tequila or wine more than hard drinks like whiskey. They come one in a million."

I mumble incoherently and swirl the golden liquid, looking at it intently. I feel the boy's probing gaze on me. "So, a day of hard work?"

"Yeah," I mumble in response, sipping from my glass and occasionally rolling it in my hand. My clothes must give me away. The top button of my white dress shirt is open, but not enough to let any of my cleavage show. The navy blue blazer is slung across my shoulders and navy blue dress pants reach all way up to my ankle. Navy blue heels adorn my feet, just letting the slightest sliver of pale skin flash in between. My hair cascades around my shoulders in a golden brown halo.

The bartender moves on to another customer and I'm left basking in my own solitude again. I look over to the dance floor and find Melian swaying her hips to the loud music. I raise my glass at her and she nods, but I know what she's asking of me- she wants me to dance- but it really isn't my thing. I find it boring and meaningless. I shake my head in denial at her and she frowns. Squeezing herself between the masses of sweaty bodies, she comes towards me and pulls me.

"No, Melian," I warn her but she doesn't pay any heed to me. She snatches the half empty glass of whiskey from my hand and places it on the counter and pulls me. I tug on her hand and widen my hands, snatching my whiskey back. "Bro, this is more expensive than the passes you got us," I roll my eyes and down the rest of the drink and shrug my blazer off. Melian grins at me and pulls me, heading towards the dance floor.

We're stuck dancing between a mass of sweaty, drunk bodies who look like they'll throw up any moment. Melian glares at me scrunching my nose at the people around me. I've never been much of a stranger-mixing person, anyways. I let the music slowly swallow me as I move to it's beats, letting my soul wander. I'm high on freedom and carelessness as I sway to the music. If the dance floor could speak it would be a tale of enlivened souls. The neon and chrome lights shone upon the entire room and the beats of the music revved my soul up. The nightclub was a heartbeat on loudspeaker, as if we were invited to become one in that heavenly vibe.

My entire mood goes downhill as I feel a hand on my ass. I turn around to find a half drunk man groping my ass almost blindly and his fingers snaking up on my neck. I probe his hands off me and slap him hard.

The people around us suddenly part and I hear collective gasps and murmurs.

"Bitttccchhhh," he slurs, "Come here. I'll pay doubleeee, eh," he says in a drunken stupor. I feel the sparks of heat rising to my brain and I march closer to him.

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?" I stress on each word, gritting my teeth, feeling the anger circulate throughout my body. It is in my blood, it flows throughout my veins, and my skin tingles as I feel it pushing at the pores of my skin.

"Sluuuuut, you're such a s-"

His face turns to the side with the second slap, and by now, there's nothing in the club but a very deafening silence- just the sounds of my breathing. I can hear Melian's silent protest, but she doesn't step forward, at least, she hasn't up until now.

"You can't spell 'slut' without 'u', you know," I let out a mirthless slap and my heart fist pumps in glee when I see the shape of my palm imprinting itself with a reddish tint on his already drunken red cheeks. I pull him closer by the tie and feel the way his body his shivering, before kneeing him in the balls.

I ignore the slow hollers and whistling which accelerates towards a huge crescendo and walk back towards the counter. The bartender is still looking at me.

"However you tryyyy to denyyy, eh," the man's words suddenly stop me, "You're just a hoe, a slut, you women are all just playthings, made to be taken in the fucking assss," he slurs on, his pride wounded, most probably. I freeze in my place, before turning around.

Before I know, I have snatched one of the glasses from the counter and banged it on his head, causing the liquid to spill on his head and drops of blood trickle down his forehead. I do not stop. I keep slapping him, as he keeps staggering backwards with the force of my bony fingers. I hold him by his tie for a better focus and keep slapping him. He pulls at his tie, struggling, and a feel restrain on my waist, and I know it's Melian by the scent of her vanilla and oatmeal shampoo, yet I do not give up. I remove my shoes and keep throwing them at him.

"You motherfucking bastard! This is my hell," I point at me, stressing on my, "I MAKE THE RULES!" I throw the second heel at him and it hits him exactly between his legs, "The only way you'll ever get laid is by crawling up a chicken's ass. FUCK OFF!"

Some of the guards are still pulling him away as the barista and the bartenders along with Melian try to restrain me. The strippers have paused and the customers are looking at me, with a glint of fear in their eyes.

"Ma'am, calm down!" The bartender from before shouts at me, yet I do not stop. I slip from their hold and keep hitting the man, who's now having a nosebleed. Fuck him, I'd sober him up. I swear I can hear him mutter 'slut' under his breath time and again, and it acts like the fuel to my temper. I drag him by his collar and shove him out of the lounge.

"Even my heels are higher than your standards, you bitch," I grit my teeth at him, "Call any woman a 'slut' once more and you'll see Satan in flesh."

"What the hell, Achelois!" I hear Melian roar at me, but I ignore her and walk past her. Picking up my heel and slipping it on, I walk back to the barstool I'd been sitting on, and sit down on it.

"Could I get a fucking drink, please?!" I grit at the staff, "I swear I came here to unwind, not for y'all to stare at my fucking face like I were from Mars."

The people scuffle and there's a low murmur around as the same bartender fixes a drink for me. Yep. Hakuna Ma'Vodka- Forgetting the rest of the memories for the night. I down the shots, as I feel Melian's hard gaze boring into me, yet I do not appear fazed. The low murmur suddenly dies down to a dangerous, suspicious silence and I raise my head.

For God's sake, what the fuck is even-

Rage fills me at the sight of that man entering the goddamned club as if it is his own club and he has every right to march in there like he was God himself. The top two buttons of his black dress shirt are open and his blazer swings as the air parts to let him in. His boots make the only sound as they click on the floor. He is accompanied by Stellan and Nico; Stel without a blazer and Nico looking just like he did in the morning- all set to conquer, but it's the confident and arrogant air about Wolfe fucking Theodore that is the fuel to the fire raging within me.

No one should look this good.

I enjoy my drink, unaffected by their so-called 'guest-appearance' and enjoy the drama unfolding in front of me, with absolutely no idea of who Wolfe is.

Two can play this game.

A/N:-

Wolfe out of the blue?! Things seem fishy, eh? Where the fuck from did he just drop in? Too coincidental to be a coincidence, don't you think?

ACHELOIS IS BADASS.

Change my mind. No woman should ever be termed like that! We are  a gift to the earth rather than a burden! True feminism, means every gender being equal rather than women's power. We deserve it!

Coughs because she shouted too loudly and now throat hurts vrooooo!*

Two updates in three days?! Brownie points, huh. Melian makes her first appearance! Yet you don't know how she looks like, do you?  I might publish the cast sometime. I have them all in mind, yet I'm open to suggestions!

QOTD: Chocolate, or ice-cream!?

Chocolate ice-cream. Yep. Both, I mean.

Also, bye! I'll be coming up with new chapters soon! I'm excited for what's coming! Are you too?!

With lots of love,
Disha😍👊