Last Summer Part 11

**Okay, so I was reading the comments on part 8 and saw one from a person being me. Well, that wasn't me because I know how to spell my pen name (it's Chelsea Johns, not Chelsea Jones, dummy). So if you saw the comment, it's a lie. It wasn't me. Anyways, thanks for all of the good comments, guys! I love hearing your predictions :)**

Just as promised, later that night at around eight o’clock she burst into my room wearing a short skirt and a tight tank top that made it look like her boobs were suffocating. "Prostitute much?" I joked, folding close the book I had just been reading.
She rolled her eyes and then whipped a pillow at me. "I cannot believe you’re reading! Grandma! Now let’s get you looking all gorgeous and then we can go and party!"
I sighed and then dropped my head against my pillow. I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I had gotten away from partying. Guess I hadn’t. My eyes rolled at her as she dug through my drawers and threw articles of clothing around the room. What was she expecting me to wear? There was no way in hell I was going to wear anything like she was wearing.

It took a few minutes, but eventually she threw her ups in the air and exclaimed, "That’s it! I’ve looked through everything and have come to the conclusion that you have no sexy clothes. Guess you’ll just have to borrow from me."
"Umm…how about not?" I said and then grabbed my pillow and clutched it to my face. The soft cotton helped rid of some of the aggravation running through me.
She walked over to me, yanked the pillow from my face, and then threw it onto the ground. "Hey!" I protested, but she had already expected that.
She grabbed my wrist and jerked me towards her. She scolded, "Stop vegetating at home. You’re going to die alone and with twenty-seven cats."
"Well at least I won’t get an STD," I smirked at her.
This once, she rolled her eyes at me. She pulled me into the den and then started digging through her suitcase. She was going to make me wear some outfit that revealed more than my bathing suit did. When I saw her yank out a very mini skirt, I protested, "No way. I’ll wear jeans."
"You’re in Florida! You’ll die of a heat stroke," she countered back, still digging through my suitcase. God, she was pissing me off.
"Well at least I won’t look like a whore! Look, I have a pair of jeans and a cute tank top. That’s what I’ll wear."

She looked up at me from her kneeling position on the floor and frowned, "But you’re not going to get a guy wearing that."
"Maybe I don’t want a guy right now," I told her truthfully. Because truth be told, I wasn’t going to trust any guy from this town. Look what had happened to me last year. I wasn’t going to let myself get hurt like that again.
Her mouth dropped open, "But you need a guy to make Caleb pissed."
"We’re not in seventh grade. Besides, I don’t want to meet a guy who only wants me to get in the sack with him."
She whined, "Nikki…"
I mocked her, "Tiffany…."
Childishly, she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, "Fine, but I’m doing your make up."
"I’m not going to look like a slut."
"Are you saying I look like a slut?" she teased.
"Duh," I admitted, smiling at her so I didn’t look too serious. Even though she was like my sister, she did look like a slut sometimes. But she couldn’t help it; she just had slut-like features.
She faked shock, but then ended up laughing instead. "Just go get dressed, and then come into the bathroom. Even if your outfit isn’t, your face is going to look hot."
"Unless you have a plastic surgeon in your make up bag, my face isn’t going to look hot," I joked, even though deep down I knew it was true.
She rolled her eyes at me and then pointed her finger towards my bedroom, "Go get dressed."

When we arrived to the Coconut Lounge later that night, I was exhausted. My eyes were droopy, but maybe that was just from the ten pounds of sparkly mascara that Tiffany had forced upon me a few minutes ago. Tiffany seemed to be on some kind of sugar rush, though, as she hopped out of the car and whopped loudly into the air.
The coconut lounge was a brick building with neon signs on the outside that cast a bright glow onto the normally dark street. This wasn’t the greatest part of town, but it was the only club that would let in people under the age of twenty-one this late at night. Most people’s preference was the Swaying Palms seeing as how it didn’t get nightly visits from the cops like the Coconut Lounge did.
Tiffany linked her arm through mine and then led me into the building. Even from the street, I could hear the pounding music. A couple of people were standing outside, smoking and gabbing. How someone could smoke, I had no idea.
Tiffany looked over me and smiled, "This is going to be so much fun!"
Even though she looked convinced, I wasn’t so sure. My stomach felt like it was in knots and I was aching to get back to the comfort of my own home. One thing I knew for sure was that neither of us was going home until she had a guy’s number; or maybe more than one guy.

As soon as we got into the room, I felt sick. Caleb and I had never been to a place like this and now I understood why. The room had so much smoke that it practically put the entire place into a fog. On top of that, the smoke was also mixed with the strong scent of hard liquor. I looked over at Tiffany to see if she was as affected as I was by the odor, but she was already smiling at one of the guy’s playing pool.
How did she do that? She had been in this place for under a minute and already she had attracted a member of the opposite sex. Besides, why would she want to do that? She was just setting herself up for heartbreak or an unwanted pregnancy. How could she do that to herself?
She towed me over to where they were playing and I took it as an opportunity to look around the place. It was pretty easy to say that most of the people here were under the age of twenty-one and only here because they didn’t ID or because they thought it was cool. There were a couple of pool tables towards the back of the room and it was almost impossible to see the people playing through the thick cloud of smoke.
The bar was on the right wall and the girl bartending looked like she had about two inches of make up caked on her face. I felt like I needed hand sanitizer just for standing in here and I wasn’t a total neat freak-not even close.
"This is Nikki," Tiffany said, waking me up from my smoke-filled daze. She was introducing me to the four guys that were playing pool and I could tell they were all itching to get in her pants. She would probably let them too.
They all nodded at me, not even taking their eyes off of her. I really didn’t want to be here to listen to their lame pick up lines, so I told Tiffany, "I’m going to get some water."

She didn’t even look at me as she nodded. She just kept on listening to one of the guy’s oh so interesting story about being football quarterback. Gag.
I weaved through the crowd of skimpy-clothed people until I hit the bar. Everyone already on a bar stool was downing liquor or a Sex on the Beach and I rolled my eyes. I had a feeling they didn’t even like the drinks; they were just drinking them to look cool. Why did my best friend have to be a slut?
I plopped myself down on a bar stool and then told the lady working that I just wanted a water. She seemed surprised as she asked, "No real drink?"
"Not in the mood to get intoxicated," I replied and then buried my head into my hands. I was having a hard time breathing and my head felt clogged. Why couldn’t I be normal and actually like being wild and going crazy? Sometimes I really hated the way I had turned out.

The music was pounding in my ears, making eavesdropping on the conversation going on next to me just about impossible. Even though I thought listening in on people’s conversations was rude, it was just about all I could do to keep myself sane. If I had to hear one more person yelling, "Chug, chug, chug!" I think I would have to shoot myself. This place was ridiculous. I had no idea how Tiffany had even found it.
My water was then placed in front of me and I downed it in a quick second. It reminded me of home and that I wouldn’t have to be in this horrid place forever. I asked the bartender for another one and she rolled her eyes in response. Well, she was sweet.
"Not having fun?" an unfamiliar voice asked from next to me. Dang, I had thought I would be able to get away without talking to anybody.
I turned and came face to face with a decent looking blonde guy. He wasn’t the cutest guy I had ever seen, but he was cute nonetheless. His lips weren’t curved into a smile like a certain someone’s always were and I found myself disliking him already. He had hazel eyes and bushy eyebrows, but other than that, he was okay.
"Getting trashed isn’t exactly my forte’," I told him and then took a sip of the glass of water the bartender had just placed in front of me.
He nodded and agreed, "I know what you mean. I’m only here because my friends decided they wanted to get laid tonight."
"Me too, except it’s just one friend. She’s very bossy," I said, starting to warm up to him just a bit. At least he wasn’t like all of the other guys in here; drunk and horny. Besides, he didn’t seem too much older than me, so he wasn’t a pedophile. That was good, at least.
He extended his arm and introduced himself, "Todd Jameson."
I placed my hand inside of his and shook, "Nikki."
"What? No last name?" he asked with a smirk.
"How do I know you’re not a stalker who wants to kill me?"
He laughed and then admitted defeat, "Touché. I’ve never seen you around here, are you on vacation?"
"Yeah, during school I live in Chicago, but I come and stay with my grandparents down here every summer," I told him and then took yet another sip of my drink. Maybe I wasn’t the only psycho in this place. "You?"
"I’ve lived here since I was born. You’d think I’d get sick of it, but I haven’t."
"I could never get sick of this place," I agreed. "The beach is too amazing."

He smiled and nodded and then told the bartended to get a coke. Wow, he wasn’t a drinker either. Maybe I was tad normal; still not normal, though. I still didn’t even like beer. I thought it smelled too much like pee to ever like it.
"Almost kind of magical," he pointed out.
"Exactly," I said and then found myself smiling back at him. He seemed like a good guy and we did have a little bit in common. Maybe he wasn’t a bad guy like all guys seemed to be.
He looked behind me and then sighed. He informed me, "My friends are way too trashed to not be sleeping. I guess I’m going to have to tow them out of here."
I teased sarcastically, "Have fun."
He rolled his eyes playfully at me and then asked, "Do you think I could have your number? I’d like to see you again at a place that doesn’t smell like this."
I laughed and said, "Sure." He handed me his cell phone and I programmed my phone number into it, feeling a bit diabolical. Wow, a guy had asked for my phone number. Well, that had never happened before. It was kind of weird, but I liked the feeling.
He walked away and I watched him try and get his friends out of the bar door. It took about fifteen minutes, but it was quite humorous to watch. He smiled and waved at me as he left and I smiled back. Maybe coming out tonight wasn’t such a bad idea.
But then the sound of police sirens outside convinced me otherwise.