Daddy's sinful pleasure

Zoella's pov

The tequila was either working or plotting my death. Three shots in and I was 93% sure I could feel the lining of my stomach peeling, but I didn't care.

Everything was blurry in the best possible way.

I was swaying on the dance floor like a malfunctioning Roomba, my mascara already halfway down my cheeks. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a rational voice whispered, "Zo, maybe slow down a bit." But that voice sounded a lot like Liam, so I flipped it off and ordered another drink, downing it in one go.

To hell with him and to hell with Madison, too. May their genitals fall off and spontaneously combust. 

I stumbled my way into the women's restroom like a heroic drunk pirate, gripping the wall for balance. The lighting was unreasonably bright. Like surgical-table bright. 

My reflection in the mirror looked like a deranged raccoon who'd been through hell and then walked straight into Sephora.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," I muttered to myself, squinting at my reflection. "Who's the dumbest bitch of them all?"

It had to be me, for not seeing through Madison's two-faced front all these years and Liam's selfish nature.

 I bent over the sink dramatically, bracing myself like I was about to confess to murder. "Jesus take the wheel," I muttered.

"Girl, you good?" 

A soft voice floated from one of the stalls. Then the door creaked open and out stepped a gorgeous girl in a skintight purple dress. Immediately raising a brow as she caught sight of my appearance.

I laughed hysterically, gesturing vaguely to my mascara disaster, my tequila breath, and the emotional earthquake happening in my soul. "Do I look good?"

She tilted her head, studying me. "Honestly? You look like you caught your man cheating and drank two shots to numb the pain."

My jaw dropped. "How the hell did you know that?" 

She shrugged like it was the most casual psychic read ever. "You're the third crying girl I've seen tonight. It's always either a cheating man, a cancelled bachelorette trip, or someone realizing their ex got hot. I just picked the first option." 

"Well," I hiccuped dramatically. Mine's the deluxe combo. Cheating fiancé. Best friend. My house. And get this-he didn't even use a condom."

"Ouch," she winced. "That's not heartbreak. That's a disaster."

 "Right?" I clutched the edge of the sink like it was about to whisper advice to me. "I walked in holding takeout. Thai noodles are his favorite. You know how long the wait is for those?"

"Criminal," she said with a nod of solidarity.

"And the worst part?" I sniffled. "He said-he said she was better than me. Like, in the middle of the act. Just-ramming into her like a damn hyena and giving Yelp reviews."

"Noooo," she gasped. "Girl, no. Men don't deserve seasoning."

"I KNOW." I wiped my eyes with a paper towel. "And she was my best friend. We've been inseparable since middle school. We've braided each other's hair, got into trouble together. I helped her hide her chin filler. I took her to Planned Parenthood in my mom's car, for Christ's sake!"

"Okay, she's trash," the girl said, walking over and wrapping an arm around my shoulder like we'd known each other since birth. "What's your name?"

"Zoella."

"I'm Lani. And Zoella, you are hot, heartbroken, and entirely too pretty to be crying over a man who probably uses 3-in-1 shampoo."

I burst out laughing again, tears streaming, but happy ones this time. "He does. It's the worst-smelling bottle. It says shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. All in one!"

Lani made a choking noise. "Oh, honey, not the Holy Trinity of poor hygiene."

"I wasted six years on that man."

She handed me lip gloss like a ritual offering. "You know what we're gonna do?"

"What?"

"You're going to walk out of this bathroom with your boobs perked, your eyeliner fixed, and your ego fully reinstalled. Then you're going to dance like you don't even remember what his name was. And you're going to flirt with the first hottie that says hi."

I blinked at her. "You think I can still pull?"

She leaned in, reapplying the lipgloss like a seasoned war general prepping her soldier, after which she started dabbing at my smudged mascara. "You're gorgeous. Heartbreak just gave you main character energy."

And for the first time all night, I smiled without it hurting.

~~

Hours later, Lani and I were wasted beyond repair. I had learnt that she was a hairstylist and a single mom who owned a salon around the Bronx. We were currently on the dance floor, wedged between sweaty bodies, swaying our hips to the bass of the music, when I suddenly felt the need for another shot. 

"I'll be right back!. Need to get some more shots!!" I screamed at Lani over the loud thumping music. 

She gave me a thumbs up and a wide grin before turning back to the tall, dark guy that was currently slow rocking her to the lyrics of Harry Styles' "Cinema". I laughed softly as I made my way to the bar.

I leaned against the bar as it had personally offended me, squinting at the cocktail menu. 

"Three tequila shots, please. Wait no. Two. I mean-three. I don't want to seem weak. Or maybe. Oh, I know. Do you have whiskey?" I paused, narrowing my eyes on the list again. "I feel like Whiskey girls don't get cheated on." 

The bartender gave me a look that said you good, sweetheart?  But before he could say anything, a deep voice slid in beside me, smooth, rich,h and dangerous." 

"Whiskey girls definitely get cheated on," the stranger said.

I turned so fast and nearly knocked over my drink. He was tall, broad shoulders shoved into a fitted charcoalbutton-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbow,s revealing a flame tattoo that snaked up his arm. His jawline looked like it could cut diamonds. His dark hair was slightly curled, a stray strand falling across his forehead. And his eyes? The most sinful shade of green I had ever seen, and the way he looked at me? Please, no woman deserves to be looked at like that. Like he could consume you with one look. He looked older, probably late thirties,s almost forty?

"Well damn," I said, blinking hard. "If whiskey comes with this kind of conversation, pour me a double." 

His mouth quirked slightly. "Do you always flirt this shamelessly with strangers?"

God, he was hot. I want to lick him up.

 "Only on nights when I catch my fiancé playing scream my name with my best friend," I tipped back the shot, wincing as it scorched a trail down my throat. "Cheers to betrayal."

He blinked as he gave me an assessing look.

 "I see. Rough night."

"You could say that." I reached for another shot. "Do you believe in karma?"

 "I prefer calculated revenge." 

That earned him a lopsided grin from me. "Are you single? Because you're hot." 

He chuckled under his breath. A low, rough, and warm sound that instantly sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

 "You're drunk," he said.

 "I'm having fun," I countered.

He didn't respond right away. Just looked at me like I was a weird little riddle someone dared him to solve.

And the n because apparently I had no self-preservation left, I reached out and placed my hand on his solid, firm,m and sinful chest.

 "If I kiss you right now," I asked, is that rebounding or reclaiming my worth?"

I saw the moment something flared in his eyes. Almost like lust? But just as soon as it appeared, it vanished as his fingers gently curled around my wrist, lifting my hand away. Not harsh but firm. 

"Get some water, whiskey girl."

And then he turned and vanished into the crowd like some emotionallywell-adjustedd Greek god with perfect timing and zero interest in my spiraling life and flirtations. 

"Buzzkill," I muttered, even though my heart was still thudding from the sheer force of his proximity.

~~~

Thirty minutes later, Lani and I stumbled outside, hands looped together, giggling like schoolgirls.

"Did you call a rideshare?" 

I looked down at my phone, which was upside down. "Uh..yes. No. Wait. Yes."

 I squinted at the screen. A black SUV. License plate something-something-7-9-4. I glanced up and spotted a black SUV with...blurry numbers. That had to be it, right?

"Bingo!" I chirped, pointing triumphantly. 

Lani narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you'll get home safe?" 

"Yup. I'll be crashing in a hotel tonight." 

She sighed as I stumbled towards the car. "Call me when you're safe in bed."

 "I will. Good night, queen!"

 I threw her a dramatic salute and yanked open the door,

climbing into the backseat with a groan.

"Jesus, can we go? I need a hot shower and a fluffy bed like...now."

And then, like some sick joke, I heard that voice. 

Cool. Dry and annoyingly amused.

"Are you following me?"

My eyes flew open.

 Oh no. Am I dreaming?

"Whiskey guy?!"  I shrieked.