Headache. I woke up with yet another headache. This insomnia thing is really starting to wear me down. I suppose it doesn't really help that when I actually do manage to get sleep in, my dog runs up and down my apartment barking like he's possessed—or overdosed on espresso. It's not his fault though, I loved the idea of having an open plan set up when I got him as a puppy so that I could keep an eye on him, still give him attention from across the room and make sure that he doesn't get up to shit. Shit like chewing my favourite heels or missing the pee pad entirely (a constant struggle when I go to work).

Thankfully I'm off today – unusual for a Saturday. I could get some more sleep in but then I wouldn't have enough time to get ready and I promised my little sister, Mel, a girls' night out. She's still in highschool but it's my favourite part of the month since I started working. We started the tradition while I was still dating my ex-boyfriend because he refused to go out with me and slowly became a grumpy pain in my ass.

Now, once a month I take her and her friends to dinner or a bar. I get that a lot of people would frown on that because of the underage drinking, blah blah blah, but we just want to dance and let loose a little. I was uptight in highschool which, let's be honest, didn't help me achieve a damn thing, so now I choose to enjoy life – at least, I try to. When you strive to get into politics for your whole life and end up earning minimum wage at a hotel instead you really need to find that damn silver lining.

"Are you still in bed!" My sister exclaims as she swings my door open. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, do a full stretch and then look at her. She's always been the pretty one between the two of us... With her hazel eyes, long legs and blonde hair. She's standing in front of my bed wearing a towel around her hair and jeans with a black boob tube shirt – cute.

"I'm getting up now. What time do you want to leave?" I ask her.

"I don't know. Is 18h00 too late? Don't forget that we're meeting Carry and Milton there."

Carry is Mel's best friend and Milton is her twin brother. Carry, with her dark hair and tan skin, is almost as pretty as my sister which means that I have a load on my hands this evening keeping the boys away. I mean, they are only 17.

"What's the time now?"

Carry checks her phone and confirms that it's already 16h00.

"18h00 will be fine. I'll go shower quickly," I say and head towards my cupboard to collect my clothes and underwear. Black jeans, a sheer black shirt, and my black boots—perfect. It's not that I don't like colour, I just don't know how to style or pair them when it comes to my wardrobe and I'm not about to turn my bedroom into a fashion runway.

I still need to shower, get dressed and then do my hair and make-up – all in only two hours.

After I have officially showered and brushed my teeth, I'm left staring at myself in the large mirror featuring on the wall across from my bed. Self-criticism is basically step three of my getting-ready routine – I need to lose weight, my skin isn't clear, my hair is too short, my boobs are too small, my outfit needs a little something. I wander if I could prop my boobs a bit – you know, just for a little cleavage.

"Mel, do you have boob tape?" I look over to my sister who is currently straightening her hair.

"No, but I think I saw some in the medicine cupboard. Just have a look. Mom normally buys whatever she thinks we need and keeps it there as a back-up."

Just to paint the picture, my mom and her husband own the property we live on. My sister lives in the main house with them and I live in one of the apartments.

I head into the kitchen and am pleased to find the boob tape exactly where Mel said it would be. A sigh leaves my lips. It's always such a mission to use this stuff, considering my boobs are pretty small and refuse to play along when I try for cleavage moments.

After some much-needed primping and preening, I am officially ready to go. Mel is still busy touching herself up – I don't know how she's always the last one to be ready considering she was already dressed when I got up.

I'm staring at myself in the mirror again. The jeans pull into my waist too much, leaving my stomach to hang over on the sides but thankfully, the sheer shirt covers that. My boob tape has already given up and my cleavage, tragically, is a no-show. My hair refuses to stay straight since I cut it after my breakup.

Ugh, can anything go right?

I think it's best for me to grab a drink and cheer up my somber, insecure mood.

Like she read my mind, my mom walks in with a tray of shooters.

"Girls' night! Do you ladies feel like a shooter?" she asks us with a big smile on her face.

My mom is honestly the cutest. She always makes sure Mel and I are fed before we go to a bar and occasionally sneaks us shooters or drinks for pre-drinks.

"What the heck are you listening to?" she asks, looking towards the speaker in the corner of the room.

"Mom, it's Cardi B. I like Cardi B," I smile, knowing this debate will probably never end.

"It's absolute shit," she says jokingly.

We all laugh.

I don't mind that she disapproves of my music taste, my mom is supportive in every way imaginable – even when I come home with a new tattoo or piercing. Sure, she gives me a funny look and her tone isn't sincere, but at least she tries to show interest and pretends to think they're cool.

After taking our shooters together, we are ready to go. Mel and I hop into the Uber and head towards our favourite bar – Dingy Doo. It's named after the owner's cat, Dingy.

It doesn't take us long to arrive and we climb out of the car directly in front of the entrance. I feel a bit better after those shooters – a little looser, a little lighter. Tonight is going to be a good night, I can feel it.

Mel takes charge in leading us through the entrance straight to the bar. Apparently Carry and Milton aren't here yet. They're probably still trying to figure out what lie to tell their mom – she's not "relaxed" as ours.

"What do you want to drink?" Mel asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, um brandy is fine, thank you," I say, looking at her and smiling.

"Two brandies please," she tells the bartender.

He smiles back and grabs our drinks. Whilst we wait, I take a look around the dancefloor. It's still relatively quiet but that's because everyone only really shows up around 20h00. We like an early start so that we can greet anyone that we know, avoid the first round of queues at the bar and find our favourite spot to stand.

Speaking of, I spot Carry already waiting at our usual spot. Mel hands me my drink and heads toward her.

A few hours later, the brandies have officially calmed my racing thoughts and I am dancing to the music. I never used to be confident when it came to dancing in public but I don't care anymore. I sway my hips, throw my hands up, and do whatever the hell I please. Okay, so the alcohol doesn't hurt in boosting my confidence either.

My sister and Carry have been running around, greeting people, and Milton is probably somewhere flirting with a girl.

"Hey! Do you remember that guy from school that I told you about? Donovan?" She suddenly appears beside me again, slightly breathless.

"No, I don't. Where have you been?" I ask her, a little worried - she disappeared for about an hour.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! Donovan was the guy that bought my friends and I pizza when we first started High School. He was kind of like a mentor—assigned to help guide our year, two years older than you."

"Oh, yeah I think I do remember you telling me something along those lines."

"Okay well he's here! We ran into him at the bar and he bought us shooters. He spilled most of his tequila on himself but Carry and I took ours like professionals." She laughs. "Speaking of, there he is! He's heading this way."

A tall figure starts approaching us and I swear time practically grinds to a halt. He is absolutely gorgeous in his black shirt and ripped jeans.

Donovan has dark hair and dark eyes, his body lean with muscle, and a bright smile with amazing teeth. I've always had a weakness for curly hair—and his is no exception.

Fuck, how does someone look like that and still exist in the real world?

Shit, okay so this guy likes my little sister? He doesn't really seem like her type but I can't blame her – she has eyes. For me, on the other hand, he is dangerous territory.

Luckily, I don't plan on getting into another relationship for the rest of my life. I'm focusing on my career now—strictly no distractions.

"Hi, I'm Don with a big D," he says with a smug look on his face, emphasis on the 'D'.

Mel starts laughing, but I just raise my eyebrow. Wow, okay—so arrogance comes with the good looks, it seems.

"That's awfully presumptuous, wouldn't you say?"

A flash of surprise graces his face but is quickly replaced with that charming smile again.

"Does she always speak like that?" he asks, turning to my sister.

"Yeah, she reads a lot," Mel answers, giving me a side look that tells me to chill. I paste a smile on my face to show her I'm relaxed and divert my attention back to Donovan—but he's not looking at her anymore. He's staring at me.

I can feel the nerves prickling along my spine again, but I push them down. Why is he looking at me like that if he's interested in Mel? Or does his arrogance speak for his romantic abilities too? He sure looks like one of those fuckboys who could get any girl he wants—genetically blessed, well-dressed, and confidence oozing off of him.

"Tam," I say, and try to shake his hand.

He laughs again and leans in for a hug instead. His arms feel strong and certain around me. Stop that. Don't think like that. I pull away uncomfortably and offer everyone a drink refill—I need to clear my head a bit.

I've never had someone have such an immediate, dizzying effect on me before, which has completely thrown me off guard. While waiting for our drinks, I look over my shoulder at Mel—but she's no longer standing with us. In fact, it seems she and Carry have run into a few friends near the door and are catching up.

I return to the dance floor and place the drinks on a nearby table—always keeping an eye on them. Don is still standing with me. Why the fuck am I being so weird? I haven't said anything since offering him a drink, which he politely declined due to the still-full one in his hand. I look around the bar and try to bob to the music. Yes, just be normal. Less awkward.

"I saved your space for you," Don says before taking a sip of his drink.

"Thank you," I smile back at him. I scan my brain for a conversation topic—literally any topic at this point. I come up short and decide to sip my drink to ease the nerves more.

Don is watching me with a drop-dead sexy smirk on his lips, a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes. How did I not notice his lips before? They are plush, pristine, plump... how many more adjectives can I think of starting with a 'P'? Perfect.

"Are you always this quiet?" Don interrupts my thoughts.

"You went to our school, right?" I blurt.

A look of surprise again. Was he not expecting me to jump straight into conversation?

"Yeah, I did. I graduated in 2015. I'm actually in university at the moment."

Studying? That's a shame. Whenever I meet people still in university, it feels like we're years apart in maturity. I get it—we have different priorities and responsibilities: theirs being studying and getting good grades, mine being paying bills and working my ass off to build a career. I try not to hold it against them—it's not their fault that our lives are different.

"What are you studying?" Curiosity gets the better of me. I want to get to know him a little better. Mel has a boyfriend anyway, so he has no chance with her. Although, I really despise that guy. I'm hoping she leaves him soon. He's a snobby, cheating, manipulative liar with the maturity of an 8-year-old—and that's an insult to the 8-year-old.

"Fuck, I love this song! Do you want to dance?" Don smiles at me and extends his hand.

So we're just not going to answer my question? That's cool, it's cool. He starts doing a combination of surprisingly decent dance moves. Great, another reason to think he's attractive—he can dance. Fanfuckingtastic.

Watching him dance enamours me. I am stuck in a state of awe and admiration.

Stop staring. Be normal. Be normal. Be normal...

I sway. I fucking sway. I'm suddenly too fucking shy to dance the way I do when I'm not standing next to this model of a man.

After a few more drinks, I feel tipsy enough to smile without trying and do more than just sway next to Donovan. I'm actually having a really good time. Mel is still with Carry, and Milton is definitely off somewhere with some girl.

Donovan isn't like what I got from my initial impression. Our conversation has been flowing easily between songs and random dance bursts. The DJ is playing all the crowd's favourite songs, creating a bubbly vibe.

I'm just about to say something to Don when I feel an arm around me.

"Um, I think we have a situation, big sister," Mel says, a worried look on her face.

My stomach twists. Fuck.