Page 1 of Husband to Go

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Kylie

I’ve been waffling between whether or not coming out tonight was a good idea. It’s not like my friends gave me much of a choice. Every time I said no, I was met with the saddest pouts. Andrea, my closest buddy, was particularly convincing.

“But Kylie, you have to come! I want to be the fairy godmother that guides you through your ho phase!”

I giggled a little before relenting. I’m not sure I’m even built for a “ho phase,” so to speak, but I couldn’t look into her faux sad eyes and say no.

So now I’m here, hanging out in a club, and the music is insanely loud. There are bodies mooshing together in almost every corner. Usually, I’d be totally uncomfortable at a place like this, but Idohave a slight buzz that’s taking the edge off. And it’s kind of fun being out with all my friends. Typically, I refuse their invitations to go clubbing because it’s not my scene at all, but after a long week, this is a nice change of pace.

Plus, Iamhaving a good time. Usually, my weekends would just be me curled up on my couch with a book and a hot cup of tea on a novelty coaster. Nothing too exciting, but it’s what I like to do. Plus, there’s only one chapter left for me to finish my book and I’ve been looking forward to trying out that new loose tea I bought from the specialty tea shop.

Or maybe I’m here because I know I’m lame in real life. Novelty coasters? Loose-leaf teas? I sound like I’m an eighty-year-old cat lady who knits while rocking back and forth. Plus, I’m a junior in college and haven’t been able to shake that FOMO feeling lately. FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out. At least that’s what my friends say. According to them, my life’s passing before my very eyes, and I’ll die alone and eaten by wolves before anyone finds my body.

The imagery did it. I’m tired of being boring. I want to be fun and cool, at least for one night. These are supposed to be some of the best days of my life, and I should be living it up. As a result, I’m ready for something completely different tonight.

“Kylie! Kylie!” Andrea yells. She bounces over to me, two shot glasses in hand. “Here!” She pushes a glass into my hand, keeping the other for herself.

My guess is that this is more tequila. It’s been the drink of choice tonight, and I amdefinitelyfeeling it.

Looking down at the small glass, I debate taking another shot. I’m for sure drunk at this point but being drunker could be even more fun, I suppose. Andrea sees my hesitation, and her fingers lift up the bottom of my glass.

“Bottoms up, sweetie!”

Going with the flow, I down the shot. Seeing that this is the third one we’ve done tonight, there’s no longer a burn, and the tequila goes down smoother than silk.

“Okay, now it’s time topartaaayyyy!” Andrea gets rid of our shot glasses and drags me to the middle of the dance floor where the rest of our group is swaying to the beat. My hands go up in the air, and I move my hips back and forth. I’ve reached a point where I don’t care. I just want to have fun.

“Hey!” Kelly yells. Her voice is barely audible over the pulsating bass, but her excitement catches my ear.

“Look at the hot guy over there!” We all crane our heads to where she’s pointing. I figure it’s just going to be some hooked-on-steroids frat boy with a too-tight t-shirt already stained with sweat, but the man who catches my eye is completely different. Holy cow. My jaw drops and I literally feel the air exit my lungs because he has to be the sexiest man in the world. Maybe in the universe, if there is any intelligent life in places other than Earth. Even with how dim it is, his chiseled features and huge, dominant build are obvious, filling out his fancy suit like a male model.

I mean he is H-O-T.

“Oh my god, Kylie. Go talk to him!” Andrea’s already pushing me in his direction. She’s been trying to find me a hook up all night, and I’ve skillfully dodged all her recommendations. But this guy, he’s in a league of his own. So much so, in fact, that I don’t belong in his orbit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble, looking at the floor while shuffling my feet. Approaching men has never been something I do because so many things can go wrong. None of us evenknowthe guy. What if he thinks I’m desperate or gross or something else wholly embarrassing?

“Come on, girl! Let your freak flag fly!” my friend squeals. I guess it could be a bit of fun. After all, I came out tonight for a reason - it’s supposed to be the dawn of a bolder, cooler Kylie Mitchell. Andrea’s right, I can afford to get a little freaky. Being someone totally different from who I am has been fun so far, so why not take it to its next logical step?

I grab the closest shot glass, down whatever’s in it, and give my outfit a few last-minute adjustments. It’s a tight skirt and skanky top borrowed from my roommate.

Here we go.

I weave through the crowd, getting closer to the VIP area. We had a minimal view of him from our little corner of the club, but something about him seemed intoxicating, even from afar. And like I said H-O-T. Maybe the alcohol is a contributing factor, but I am raring to go.

If his good looks are the result of beer goggles, then that’s something I can live with. But I doubt alcohol could make someone lookthisfantastic. His hair is jet black, swept off a high, aristocratic forehead. He has a strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones with cruel lips. They’re turned up a bit at the moment, as if this crowd isn’t his usual scene.

After getting to the VIP area, I realize there’s no plan for me to get past the little barricade. Should I just push it aside? No one’s really guarding it. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Excuse me?” I say hesitantly, looking around with my hand on the velvet rope. “Um, can I move this?”

Of course, no one even notices me. Bodies twist and turn, colors swirling on the dance floor. I look around, my cheeks flushing. Should I just unhook the little gold clasp, and let myself in?

Suddenly, a voice interrupts.

“Can I help you?”