I REALLY SHOULDN’T be here. The phrase looped through Maya’s brain. I really, really shouldn’t be here. The ice cubes in her glass clinked together as she stirred her vodka-cranberry drink and took a sip. The deafening, bass-heavy music and many sweaty bodies pulsed around her as she quickly crossed the dance floor to return to the booth where her best friend and roommate, Abby, was sitting alone, waiting for her. Feeling a headache coming on, Maya frowned and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.
“Could you at least pretend you’re having a good time?” Abby leaned in and yelled against her ear to be heard over the music. “This is the hottest club in Montreal, we both look fabulous and we’re getting a ton of male attention tonight.” As if to make her point, she waved to a group of men at a nearby table who were looking in their direction.
“I’m sorry,” Maya yelled back. She really wanted to go home. But she also didn’t want to ruin her friend’s night. Abby had put a lot of effort into dragging Maya out. Earlier that evening, at home, Maya had spent far too long styling her hair into waves, although the end result was supposed to have looked as though she hadn’t spent any time styling it. While constantly reloading YouTube tutorials, she had studiously worked until she achieved things called smoky eyes and contouring. It was then that Maya had decided it was all too much work, and was about to change into yoga pants and a tank top and curl up on the couch when Abby had selected her littlest black dress and strutted into Maya’s room proclaiming it the one.
“Maya, every guy in that club is going to be drooling over you in this,” Abby had assured her.
“Great,” Maya had replied, without much enthusiasm. “I hope all that saliva comes out at the dry cleaners.”
But she was forced to admit, thanks to Abby’s instruction and help with styling, makeup and hair techniques, Maya had never looked better.
“I’m getting such a headache. And I should really get home. Finals are coming up. And we’ve got that early class tomorrow—” Maya grasped for any reason to not be at Swerve Nightclub on a Thursday night.
“God, you’re practically agoraphobic!” Abby huffed in frustration.
“I’m not agoraphobic. I’m an introvert, and it’s super trendy right now. Thank-you-very-much.” It’s cute to be introverted, she thought defensively. Words she wouldn’t dare say to her friend. There were an abundance of articles and listicles online proclaiming such a thing. It’s good to have some mystery about you. And who is more mysterious than a girl who never leaves her house?
“Either way, you’re not going anywhere!” Abby pulled on Maya’s wrist until she was seated at the table with her. “Don’t worry about class. Dr. C. invited in some guest speaker, so it’ll just be some long-winded, ancient colleague of his. They’ll turn down the lights and we can nap in the back.”
Maya opened her mouth, but Abby plowed over her, running her fingers through her own flawlessly styled, bleach-blond pixie haircut. “We’re here to have fun. For the past few years, I’ve watched you lock yourself in your room, hibernate in the library and never take a minute to look up from your books. We are graduating in two weeks—” she reached out to grab Maya’s hands in her own “—and I need to see you act like the beautiful, exotic, sassy young thing that you are before we part ways, become old hags and never see each other or have any fun ever again.” Abby took a long pull on her beer. “We need to act young and stupid, this one last time,” she pleaded. “Be irresponsible. Live a little with me.”
Maya laughed. “Hey. I have fun.”
Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Staying home on Friday night and binge-watching Orange Is the New Black on Netflix isn’t the type of fun that a single twenty-five-year-old woman should be having. Especially a complete knockout like yourself. When was the last time you had sex?”
Maya’s mouth dropped open, shocked that her friend would even go there. “What?”
Abby smirked. “That’s what I thought.” She relented. “Okay, when was the last time you were even kissed?” Maya remained silent. “Your last date?”
Maya sighed. Abby was right. It had been so long since she’d been on a date, or gone to a nightclub, or even let herself focus on anything but school. But she was so close to the end. She’d spent every waking moment of the past five years working diligently toward her goal, completing her master’s degree in Business Administration. For the entirety of her short adult life, it was her dream to pursue a career in hotel management, running an upscale resort hotel. Probably on a beach. Most definitely somewhere hot. She dreamed of a life in Miami, or the Bahamas, or any other exotic location in the Caribbean. She could only smile at how close she finally was to that life.
Abby continued, pressing her argument, at which she was so talented. “We’re part of the hospitality industry. And in order to be successful we need to monitor trends to stay on top of our game. And at least one small part of that, my friend, includes visiting nightclubs and having fun! Trying new drinks, networking, schmoozing a little and learning to talk to people to get information about things they like and things they don’t. Getting a sense of what’s hot and what’s not—and this place is hot, by the way. Don’t you want to be at the top of your game, Maya?” Abby finished with a smile, obviously proud of herself for putting their girls’ night out in terms of their studies, knowing Maya would respond favorably. Really, it was her only hope of getting her to stick around.
Maya smiled back at Abby. She loved her friend dearly, despite the fact she sometimes wanted to maim her. “You wench,” she said with a laugh. Once again, Abby was right. Maya sighed and brought her glass to her lips and drank back a fortifying gulp. When the glass was empty, she slammed it down on the table. “Fine. You win. Let’s have fun.” Then she stopped and looked at Abby quizzically. “How do we have fun?”
“We start with me getting us more drinks.” Abby stood, picking up Maya’s empty glass and her own empty bottle. “That round did not last long enough.” Abby straightened her crop top and smoothed her hands down over her skinny leather pants and she made her way back to the bar.
Maya pulled out her phone to check her email, seeing nothing new, she opened her Facebook app. She flicked through the pictures that some of her friends had posted, people her age going out to clubs and having parties. They somehow managed to juggle their studies and their social lives. She scrolled lower and lower and saw more friends having drinks at pubs and eating in restaurants, hiking, playing paintball and riding on party buses. She tapped on the icon to view her own profile. There were no pictures, and at no time had she ever ridden on a party bus. Was Abby right? Had Maya let a good part of her twenties escape her without getting out there and doing wild things? Maya, you’re twenty-five. You’ve never gone skinny-dipping in the park or drunk a bottle of wine by the ocean. She looked in disgust at her mostly pathetic Facebook profile and grimaced. No more, Maya. You’re going to have some fun tonight even if it kills you.
“And it just might,” she whispered to herself, as Abby walked back to the table, holding two fresh drinks for them.
“That was quick,” Maya remarked, accepting her glass.
“Yeah, but I schmoozed the good-looking bartender earlier, so when he saw me walking up, he skipped everyone else at the bar to serve me.” Abby smiled.
“That’s awful. But nicely done.” Maya proffered her glass in salute and Abby clinked it with her beer bottle. “So what are we going to do?” she asked.
Abby pursed her lips, deep in thought. Maya watched her as she scanned the club, searching for inspiration. “How about a little truth or dare?”
“What?” Maya scoffed. “We aren’t twelve anymore. I’m not going to tell you who I like.” She giggled. It seemed that the vodka in her cranberry was working its way through her brain.
“Okay,