thirty | a ride on your disco stick

(@korraishere via instagram stories!)

viewed by reecewalsh.

DIONNE COULD NOT THINK OF AN INSTANCE WHERE WORK DRINKS HAD ENDED WELL—LIKE SHE'D WARNED KORRA, WHO WASN'T HEARING ANY OF IT. The night had started off fairly mellow, as it always did. With the young employees all meeting at the graphic designers house after making pit stops at their own home to change into more 'party appropriate' outfits. Dionne, the most unwilling to be there, had shown up last (she'd been stuck in front of her mirror for twenty minutes, deeply contemplating excuses she could use to get out of going). Korra had scolded her as she'd opened the door from her, practically sensing the fact she'd almost bailed on them.

Like she said, it'd started off fairly tame. They'd shared a twenty-four pack of drinks amongst the group of four (Quinn was still traumatised from their last outing and had declined the invite). So, the group was a little bit giggly and tipsy when Korra suggested karaoke in the city—why did it always lead to karaoke? None of them could carry a tune.

And so, they'd clambered into the Uber—who looked unimpressed by Erik sitting in the front seat, chatting his ear off the whole drive. From the back, Korra had begged for him to turn the music up (claiming that Pitbulls 'The Time of Our Lives' was her favourite song of all time, which Dionne knows is factually incorrect. She'd seen the girl dedicate five devices to obtaining Era's Tour tickets while they were still on the clock). Dionne was too drunk not to sing along with everyone, probably giving the driver hearing damage and permanently ruining Erik's Uber rating.

Stumbling up the stairs, they'd practically tripped over each other as they tried to book a room. The unimpressed worker just nodded along, thrusting the EFTPOS machine their way before pointing to room four. From Abba to Justin Bieber, they sang all the classics for the hour they'd booked the room. Dionne can't exactly remember how but more cans of alcohol had appeared in the booth, making the brunette lose count of how many she'd consumed.

When the hour was over, they could all hardly see as they left the building loudly. "Too The Valley!" Korra had shouted, throwing an arm around Dionne's shoulders as the cool night air enveloped them.

The walk in the cold—not that they could feel it in their drunken state—had felt more like teleportation. In the morning Dionne could remember leaving the karaoke room and agreeing to walk but not the walk itself. It was perplexing but she wasn't complaining.

Fortitude Valley was the same as how she'd last left it. Drunken girls in tops that exposed their whole chests pushed past them, trying to get to the front of the club lines while Christian singers preached the lord in the background. Dionne sent a polite smile in the direction of a strip club worker who offered them fliers and then immediately cringed at the person down the street being behind a bench. Loud music poured out of clubs as they walked down the main strip; Erik and Korra argued over which one they'd go to.

"I am not going to The Beat again," Korra was shouting, "we went last time and there wasn't a single hot guy that was into girls."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Um, yeah because it's a gay club!"

"I'm not gay!" Korra replied, throwing her arms in the air as she looked to the other two for support. Lory stood to the side, sniggering at them both.

They'd been stood in front of Rics, a club that attracted a lot of unique characters. In her university years, Dionne and her friends would venture to Rics whenever they needed a self esteem boost after not meeting the loves of their lives at other clubs. The old men and touchy athletes that frequented Rics were always happy to buy them free drinks. "How about Rics?" The brunette found herself suggesting, nodding at the line that was rapidly decreasing.

Korra, Erik and Lory eyeballed the building, watching the karaoke room fill with people to cheer on and off-key performer. "Fuck it," Erik muttered, strolling over to join the queue. "I need to find a sugar daddy, anyways," he muttered, looking over his shoulder at them with an evil grin.

Shaking her head, Korra joined him. "I haven't been to Rics since I was sixteen," she admitted, smirking at the look Lory sent her. "Fake ID's for the win," she added, a glint in her eyes.

"I was in Melbourne when I was sixteen," Dionne said and everyone rolled their eyes. For some reason when she'd drink, she'd reminisce about living in her home-city. She didn't mean to but the alcohol made her think of her old life a lot.

Once inside the club, Erik immediately dragged them to the downstairs bar and ordered Tequila shots for them all. Dionne would like to reiterate: Tequila shots always lead to her making horrid decisions. Nonetheless, she gulped down the clear liquid before biting onto the lime to drown out the taste. She'd not even been given the chance to process the taste before being dragged onto the dance-floor.

Throwing her hands in the air like she truly did not care (perhaps that song had been playing in the moment), she allowed herself to be swept up by the bass that vibrating through her entire body. She was sure the decibels the music was playing at could definitely cause hearing damage but frankly, she'd take the tinnitus in exchange to always feel as care free as she did in that moment. Bodies pressed on top of bodies, all there screaming the nonsensical lyrics to the overplayed club songs. Her hair blew from side to side (it was definitely going to be a bitch to brush out in the morning). The brunettes arms flew in all sorts of directions as she spun, every movement perfectly on beat.

Everything had been going well; no disaster had struck their night out. Well, that was until she caught a glimpse of a man with shoulder length brown hair across the crowded room. A shiver went down her spine which she'd decided to ignore. Three million people lived in this city, the likelihood of him being in the exact club she was in was low (but not zero, she thought as she remembered the Melbourne outing. . . surely she wouldn't have that kinda bad luck twice?).

Expelling the worry from her mind, she grabbed Lory by the hand and spun her around. The Indian receptionist threw her head back, laughter pouring from herself as she spun Dionne back. Everything was fine, she'd just been hallucinating.

Their night chugged on, having them eventually get bored of the techno music the DJ insisted on playing. The group, minus Erik who'd ran into an ex-boyfriend, migrated to the upstairs dance-floor (making a quick pit-stop at the bar to down some more tequila shots). Dionne clung to the railing as they climbed the steep steps, having taken a few tumbles down them in her younger years. The upstairs dance floor, unlike the one downstairs, felt more like a real club. The music was louder and the lights were lower, replaced by neon flashes.

Squealing in excitement at the song that was playing, Korra yanked the both of them to centre of the dance floor. Once again Dionne let the music take her over, letting lose.

As she danced, she felt hands grip her hips—which she was used to in clubs. Rather then doing what she'd normally do and throw him off, she leant into his touch, pressing herself against his crotch. She felt him vibrate, laughing against her as his grip tightened. Korra and Lory had been too busy throwing their asses about to notice who exactly had found their colleague.

Grabbing the man's hand, she freed herself long enough to turn and face him. Her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets when she gazed upon his face—his perfect face. "Patty. . . !" She guffawed, mouth watering at the sight of him (damn the tequila flowing through her body).

His own expression mirrored hers: shock. "Dionne, I—" His hands dropped from her body, tunnelling deep into his pockets as he stared down at her, looking like he'd just seen the Holy Ghost.

The brunette played with a fraying seam of her purse, biting her lip at how embarrassing this was. Of course something like this would happen to her (again, she might add!). "What're you. . . god, this is embarrassing," she shouted over the music, unsure if he could even hear her.

"Can we talk?" He shouted back, nodding at the balcony at the other side of the room.

Hesitantly, she nodded. Perhaps it was the alcohol giving her a shard of bravery but she knew she owed him some sort of explanation. Pushing through the crowd, they walked out into the smokers area. "So, hey. . ." She muttered, gripping the railing to steady herself (if this went sideways, she had easy access to jump off).

Patty scratched his beard as he studied her. "Dionne, what happened?" He came right out with it, catching her off guard—she'd expected them to dance around it for at least a little while.

"Um. . ." She truly did not know where to even begin. How did you tell a man your boss—who's in love with you, by the way—basically banned you from sleeping with him? It wasn't exactly a sane situation to find oneself in.

"Did I do something?" He asked, features softening as he finally met her eye.

Dionne felt her heart break at the idea of him overthinking everything, thinking he'd done something to make her ghost him. "No," she exclaimed, much louder then she'd intended. A couple, who'd actually been smoking unlike them, stared at them and Dionne felt her face redden. "No," she repeated in a more even tone, "you didn't do anything wrong."

Patty scoffed. "'It's not you, it's me.' Seriously, are you about to give me that speech?"

Dionne gnawed on her bottom lip, being close to taking a chunk of flesh away. "But it is me," she insisted, grabbing his forearm without realising.

The footy player stared down at her hand on him. "Please enlighten me then, give me a reason," he pleaded, taking a step closer to her.

"I. . ."

"I really liked you, Dionne," he continued, sweeping her stray hairs from her face. "You can't tell me you didn't feel anything for me."

"Patty," she whispered, instinctively leaning up towards him (she was possessed or something, she swears).

He shook his head. "Tell me you didn't feel anything and you'll never hear from me again."

"I can't," she murmured, unable to break eye contact. "Because that would be a lie," she admitted, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted from her chest.

The hand that'd brushed her hair away cupped her cheek, his thumb crushing the tear that escaped the corner of her eye. "Tell me what's going on," he begged, eyebrows furrowed.

"Kiss me," she told him, not ready to let this, him, go.

Obliging, he met her halfway and pressed his lips against hers. Her hands, that'd been dangling by her side, reached to find his shoulders in attempt to pull him down further to her (standing on your tip-toes in Doc Martens was not comfortable). He smiled against her lips, his free hand wrapping around her waist and lifting her into the air. Her legs dangled as they continued to kiss, tongues battling for dominance. For a moment all of Dionne's problems, all her reasons for leaving him, fell away and she was just left with the way Patty made her feel in that moment. 

As things always did with them, it didn't take long for the cute moment to escalate. Before Dionne even knew what she was doing, she was whispering in his ear that they should head back to her place again. He'd simply kissed her again in response before tugging her downstairs, in search of the exit.

Whatever the consequences may be, they would deal with it in the morning. Now, she needed him back inside her.

💌

💌 KARLA YAPS !

six more chapters to go !!!! & they're back together (or are they??)

what were your thoughts? & most importantly, what are your predictions? how do you guys think this will end? please, i need to know what y'all think.