The Trouble With Quarterbacks(65)

After lunch, we head back to the flat to rest before our big night out. I know I saw Logan on Thursday, but it feels like it’s been ages since then and I don’t know what I’ll do if he ends up not showing up at the club tonight.

I text him in the late afternoon as we’re all lazing about, watching Legally Blonde. It was funny the first time, but Kat makes us watch it so often I can recite every line word for word. What, like it’s hard?

CANDACE: Still planning on coming tonight?





LOGAN: I have a late dinner I forgot about, but I can still come out after with the guys. Just let me know where you end up.





“Candace! This is the best part!” Kat says, taking my mobile out of my hand and chucking it clear across the sofa.

I do a deep breathing exercise to keep from decapitating her. “Kat. I’m truly going to kill you. Remind me to book a trip abroad next year for your birthday. Without you.”

“Shhh! I’m missing it!”

Yasmine shoots me a glare that says, I won’t say a word if you go ahead and kill her.

I contemplate it for a good long while, right up until Elle Woods’ speech at her graduation, then it’s time to get tarted up. It’s still hours until the clubs will be packed, but we all love taking our time putting on our makeup, tossing every item of clothing we own out onto our beds then mixing and matching them to get a perfect combo.

We all end up going with a variant of the same look: short skirt, cute top, ridiculous heels. Kat and Yasmine talked me into this coordinating black mini skirt and cropped top. At least the top has got long sleeves, but that’s where the modesty ends. It’s clingy and soft, the jersey material hugging my figure and making me look loads sexier than I usually am on an average day. Yasmine plays up my eyes with a bit of dark shadow, and then Kat helps me with my hair so it has some wave to it.

I think we look absolutely fabulous when all’s said and done.

When we’re out on the curb, waiting for our Uber, a passing cyclist gives us a whistle and I squeal. “See?! We look lovely! Even that biker says so.”

“He was about 75. Did you get a good look at him? He had no teeth.”

“So what? Clearly he’s got great taste!”

Our car pulls up and we all slide into the back seat, fiddling with our skirts. It’s no real use; they barely cover our knickers. If I were our mothers, I’d be very angry at us for going out like this, but I guess that’s the bonus of living across the pond—no one to tell us to cover up!

I text Logan which club we’re headed to, but he doesn’t text me back. I know it’s because he’s at his dinner, but it almost makes me a little nervous. I really want him to show. I want him to see me like this and eat his heart out. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Especially after all the times he’s seen me at The Day School, covered in tissue dressed up like a mummy or with a paintbrush stuck in my hair. It’s only fair that he should see me like this too, right?

The club is closer to where Logan lives, up in a trendy part of town with a long queue circling round the corner.

For a moment, I think, Ha! We don’t need to wait in that—they’ll take one look at us and beg us to come inside, but then there are loads of pretty girls standing there, waiting to get in, and we aren’t that special, are we?

We take our place at the back of the queue and fidget in the chilly air. It’s getting on into spring, but New York has a way of sneaking winter in when you least expect it. I’ve got goosebumps everywhere and I’m shivering.

Kat groans at how slow the queue is moving, but I lift her spirits by promising to buy her a drink as soon as we get inside. A shot will warm us up, though it’ll also be painfully expensive. In a place like this, I can only imagine what the drinks cost. Water with lemon? That’ll be $378.48.

I’m already tallying up what I’m allowed to order: a shot for myself and Kat, and one drink. That’s it. Anything else and I’ll end up with a bill that’ll give me a heart attack.

Yasmine pokes her head round the corner and assures us we’ll be inside really soon.

The queue does start picking up then, and it only takes a little while until we’re at the front. We hand over our IDs and the bouncer lets us in with a nod of his head. Suddenly, it feels like we’ve really arrived. I feel giddy with excitement. Maybe the queue’s a smart move because it does feel like the place is really exclusive, all dark and moody with flashing lights and trendy furniture. There’re different areas to sit: an outdoor garden with heating lamps near the back, an upstairs VIP area we don’t even bother trying to get into, and a main dance floor. That’s where we settle, trying to get drinks at the bar.

We agree on a Fireball shot and clink our glasses together before downing them in one go. The cinnamon-flavored whisky burns my throat, but I don’t mind. It heats me from the inside out.

Yasmine slaps more money down onto the bar. “Another round please!”

“Yaz,” I moan, not wanting her to feel like she has to fund the evening just because she’s got more money than the rest of us. I can pay for myself if I just go easy.

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” she says, covering her ears. “I’ve waited on Kat all day and she’s been a real wanker. I need alcohol.”

“Hey!”