It only took me about twenty minutes to shower and put on a new dress. Jordan might have been able to make me go out but she couldn't make me put any effort into it...or so I thought, until she breezed into my room with her makeup kit and a flat iron. Two hours later, I was the prom queen. The very cranky prom queen who only wanted to curl up in her bed and skip the dance.

"Stop it," Jordan barked, sweeping a fresh stroke of bronzer down my cheek.

"What? I didn't say anything."

"You're pouting. Stop."

I jerked away from her wandering makeup brush and climbed out of my chair. "Jesus, Jordan. The person that I thought I was going to be with forever just completely betrayed me. I'm allowed to be a little fucking sad, alright."

Jordan stared at me, her face expressionless. "You done?"

I shrugged. What else was there to say?

"You are allowed to be a little sad, A. But not yet. If you start being sad now before you go out and you see that there are other options out there, that the world is bigger than just Yelvin, you'll never come out of it. You'll drown in sad. So stop being a pouty little bitch and let me finish your make up."

I rolled my eyes, plopping back into my chair without a word, still pouting but less aggressively. In her own way, Jordan was right. And she was trying to do what she thought was best for me, even if she was being a pain in the ass about it.

Once my face was finally finished to perfection and my hair was pressed for the gods, Jordan picked out a pair of pumps that made the plain Jane dress I'd picked out a little more dazzling and a lot more sexy.

I had to admit, by the time we made it to the car I was feeling much better about the prospects of life without Yelvin.

The drive to The Paradise, Jordan's favorite club, only lifted my mood higher. That girl just knew how to make me smile. She spent the thirty-minute drive obnoxiously blasting Rhythm Nation on repeat, performing her own interpretation of Janet Jackson dance moves, each rendition seemingly worse than the last.

"I have no idea why you love dancing so much because you are not good at it." I laughed, stopping at a red light and watching her offbeat body roll.

"Girl, you better lay off that Haterade, you know its empty calories."

I laughed again, making a left to pull into the parking lot of the club. I pulled up to the valet stand, there was no point in actually trying to find parking this late on a Saturday night. The four spots that they had were likely filled and the club would be closed by the time we found somewhere else to park.

Climbing out of the car, I handed my keys to gorgeous lady at the valet stand. She looked more like she belonged on a poster than parking my car but that's kind of the way that this city went. Unusually good looking people performing even more unusual jobs. Atlanta was the New York of the failed city of dreams, only our failures had flawless skin, tiny waists and perfectly rounded asses, courtesy of the cosmetic surgeons on every corner.

Jordan linked her arm in mine as we headed inside, checking our bags as we headed straight for the dance floor. It didn't take long before I lost count of the number of drinks Jordan slipped off of trays from passing shot girls, and after one or two strangely named sweet drinks, I stopped asking what I was shooting.

I'd never been much of a club girl and on the infrequent occasion that I let Jordan convince me to go, I drank moderately and danced with class but tonight was different. I was starting to see Jordan's point, the more I drank, the looser I got, grinding against strangers and shamelessly shaking all of my assets.

The male attention poured in. As we moved from one side of the dance floor to the other more and more men swarmed around us, covering our shot tab— which had to be climbing to astronomical levels— and waiting their turn just to be near us. It was a completely different club experience than I was used to, and I had to admit, I wasn't hating it.

Jordan was always the center of attention. The girl had a way about her that just oozed sex and glamour that got her everything she wanted, from a new car from daddy to black cards from sugar daddys or sugar mommas depending on what kind of week she was having.

But this was definitely my first time in the spotlight. My first time feeling assured in my sex appeal. I'd always been a confident woman, perfectly aware of how attractive I was but I was closed off. I was taken. Wife-material. Not the kind of woman that men drooled over. That was Jordan. I was the the woman you took home to meet your mother; the family-function girlfriend. A lot of good that had done me.

Feeling the earth starting to quake beneath me, I decided to take a breather. It was my first time letting loose and I didn't quite have the stamina that Jordan did. An hour in and my feet hurt, I was boiling hot and I was too drunk for life. We were definitely going to have to Moovel home. I was in no condition for driving and I had a feeling I wouldn't be any time soon. The sweet alcoholic taste in my mouth assured me that this was the kind of drunk that hung around for a while.

Moving across the club, I left the dance floor and headed for the bar. I desperately needed water and as much as I didn't want to pay eight bucks for it, I was also pretty sure I'd pass out without it.

The bartender offered me a knowing smile as I ordered my bottled water, handing her wet ten-dollar bill from the left cup of my bra. I was too drunk to be discreet and I only hoped they kept hand sanitizer behind the bar.

When she brought me the bottle, I wasted no time popping the cap and throwing it back. Oh, sweet, sweet life sustenance. Water had never tasted so good. Finishing every last drop, I crushed the bottle and placed it back onto the counter, letting out a burp my mother would have been horrified by.

Yep, I'm definitely drunk, I thought as the smell of sugar and tequila filled my nostrils. Burping tequila was, without a doubt, a surefire sign that the liquor was settled into my system.

"Well, that was attractive."

I whirled around to find the source of the comment and smiled at what I found. The wildly attractive man in front of me smiled wide, a bright white smile with two mouthwatering dimples accented at the sides of his cheeks. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, well, the heels are nice but nothing reels in the fellas like a burp at the bar."

He laughed and I felt it ripple through my body. He was entirely too attractive, but it wasn't Atlanta attractive. It wasn't an attractive that seemed manufactured, but a natural rawness that made me want to rip his clothes off and ride him on top of the bar. I could already see myself gripping at those broad muscular shoulders as he rocked my world.

He moved in closer to me and leaned against the bar. "So, how about you buy me a drink, A?"

My eyebrows furrowed. How the hell did this Adonis know my name? "How did you...?"

I jumped as he reached out for me, his hand coming right at my chest. I briefly wondered if I was offended or excited that he was going to grope me.

"Your necklace," he said, tracing a thumb across the silver A at the center of my chest.

"Oh." I flushed, feeling silly and giddy and just too drunk in general. Licking my lips, I tried to sober up, tried to get my thoughts to focus on anything other than how the beautiful man in front of me seemed to make the air in the room thinner.

"Is your name actually A?" He arched an untamed eyebrow that just seemed to add to his sex appeal.

I nodded. "Yeah...well, no. Amerie. My name is Amerie," I fumbled.

"Nice to meet you, Amerie." He extended his hand to me and I couldn't help but notice how large they were. I forced myself to take his hand without letting my eyes travel to the crotch of his jeans. You know what they say about big hands. I smirked to myself, suddenly very much enjoying the single life.

"I'm Mufasa. You can call me Fas."

I laughed and he let go of my hand, his lips flattened into a straight line. "Oh, you're serious. That's an, um, interesting name."

"Yeah, it is." He smiled. "So about that drink?"

"Shouldn't you be offering to buy me a drink?"

He shook his head. "I don't conform to traditional gender roles."

I laughed. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah." He moved in closer, his body nearly pressing against mine.

"Well." I moved into him, pushing us together. The feel of his hard body beneath mine nearly made me moan. "I'll pass on the drink, but I wouldn't mind getting out of here." Fuck it, I thought; I was drunk and single and Jordan could find her own way home. Wasn't that the point she was trying to prove anyways, that there were better things out there than Yelvin? And Mufasa was certainly something I wanted to try out.

His hands gripped my hips and this time I actually did moan as he placed a kiss behind my ear. "I could do that," he whispered.

I grinned, moving to grip him and press my lips to his. I wasn't typically the make out with strangers in bars girl, but all bets were off tonight.

I'd barley grazed my lips against his before I felt the warm splash of liquid, drench my hair and the side of my dress.

"What the fuck?" I looked up to the ceiling, wondering just how drunk I actually was. Indoor raining, felt like more than tequila. Had someone slipped me something?

"Get the hell off of my man."

I turned, realizing that what I felt wasn't rain but instead a tiny pissed off woman that had thrown her glass of something that was starting to get sticky all over me. Luckily, I wasn't wearing any dress that I was attached to but I still didn't appreciate being doused in gin and juice.

My eyes flickered between the girl and Mufasa and I stepped away from him. "You have a girlfriend?" I asked, pulling napkins from the bar and trying to dry the ends of my hair. Of course he has a girlfriend, Marie. Look at him.

"No. No, I don't." He held up a finger to me and turned to the girl. "Trina, I thought we talked about this."

Trina melted, the ferocious look on her face turning into something entirely more submissive. "We did, but then you brought me here with you and I thought--"

"You came here with her?" I asked incredulously. Who brought someone to the club with them and then hit on another girl? It was obvious they were somehow romantically intertwined. What. A. Dick.

He turned back to me. "Yes, but as friends."

"Friends that fuck?" I asked already knowing the answer.

Mufasa shrugged. "That doesn't mean that we can't..." He smiled, reaching out for me.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." I smacked away his hand and turned to Trina. "Good luck to both of you. I wish you all the best."

I dumped my napkins back onto the bar and moved across the club on a mission. It was time to go. All of my sexy confidence had diminished and I realized that this was my life now. This was life without Yelvin. This was what I had to look forward to, a superficial high before everything comes crashing down. I let out a groan as, I pulled at my dress that clung to me in the most disgusting way. Hooray for single life.

***

Poor A. 

In other news, anyone else really feeling Lizzo? Her jams give me life. 

In other other news, who else knows all the dance moves to Rhythm Nation? Seriously, give me a pair of black gloves and a hat and I swear I'm Janet.