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the two girls to follow me up into the club, taking one of them on each side and linking arms. I look back over at my brother and friend and mouth my apology before turning around, unable to stop myself from laughing at their fate. Not everyone can be me.
    Short N Blonde’s friend disappears pretty soon after we enter and leaves the two of us to it. We walk up to the bar and I order us a couple of drinks. Then another round of drinks. Then a shot or two more. The lights are pulsing, not only in the club itself but in my head, the music pumping through my veins. It’s like I’m the speaker and everything is going through me.
    The girl ends up leaving with her friend but it’s no matter, because I end up in the middle of the dance floor with a few other girls instead, taking turns dancing with all of them. Two of the girls are practically all over me, grinding on me and swaying up against me while we all get lost in the beat. But I’m not ready to go yet and ease them up off me, figuring it was time to find out what happened to Cal and Joshua. The whole point was for all of us to hang out together anyway, and I decide that I’ve had enough fun and go try to find them.
    My buzz has definitely kicked up a notch or two and it’s getting harder to walk straight. Everyone’s faces in the crowd is becoming a blur of color, shadows, and sweat. I push past them but it’s almost like I’m moving in slow motion. I get a couple looks from people, but I don’t care. It’s not like they’ve never seen a drunk person before.
    I circle around the outside of the dance floor, looking for them, wondering if they even made it in yet. The line was pretty long, but I know I have to have been in here for a while now. I wipe the beading drops of sweat from my forehead and blink my eyes a few times, trying to let them adjust. Even though I know it’s completely pointless, I start calling out for them, my voice scratchy and dying in the middle of the loud music and laughter around me.
    Part of me knows that I should just pick up my phone and call them but when I do, I accidentally knock into something solid but light and end up toppling over someone. There are people around us, but they clear a small path of space so that I can try and help the person I ran into back up, though I’m failing miserably.
    “Shit, shit. I’m sorry ‘bout that,” I slur, trying my best to help the small woman up to a stand. Her arm is soaked, and then I realize that she’s holding an empty cup, the floor beneath us soaked in a reddish-colored liquid. “Fuck, I even made you spill your drink. Here, let me buy you another one.”
    The woman looks up at me with clear annoyance but I see past it, completely distracted by the way the strobe lights are reflecting off of the whites of her eyes. Even in the dimness of the club, I can see her face clear as day. She is close enough to me that I can make out the outline of her, but her face is lit up like Christmas from the colored lights above us. Her eyes are a darker color, but what catches me off guard are the small dark freckles that spread across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, offsetting the warm brown of her skin. It’s reminding me of something that I can’t quite put my finger on. Until I do. “Cinnamon,” I mumble to her, mesmerized.
    She arches a dark eyebrow at me. “What?”
    I repeat myself, almost forgetting what set me off in the first place. “Cinnamon. Your freckles look like cinnamon on your face. My aunt . . . she makes this hot chocolate? The best damn hot chocolate you’ve ever had. But there’s this secret behind it,” I say, stumbling over half the words. The girl jerks her head back, but I keep going and lean in even closer to reveal what the secret is. “She puts a tiny bit of cinnamon on top, enough to give it a little kick. Your freckles . . . they kind of look like that.”

Chapter 4
    R amona

    O kay , so remind me to never, ever let my friends drag me out to a club