Tiffany loved the club. She loved the way the music throbbed in her chest, filled her up, blasted away any errant worries about school and life in general. She loved the people, how they danced away the night without a care in the world—friends, lovers, potential lovers. She thrived on their energy, getting lost in the invisible webs linking them all together for a night. She loved the burn of alcohol on the back of her tongue, making her brain float, delirious, dizzy, happy. Even if she regretted it the morning (and she did, far too often), it was all about the present.

She glanced at Taeyeon standing next to her, looking so out of place and yet, so definitively Taeyeon in her boots and tanktop, and tried to read her expression. Tiffany didn't consider herself above average in deciphering body language, but Taeyeon's face was always an open book, even if her words never were. In the span of a few moments, Tiffany caught half a dozen different emotions, at least: anxiety and irritation being chief among them, but it was the last one that gave her pause. Taeyeon's jaw set, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed. Determination?

Taeyeon turned to face her, unaware that she was being studied. She started to talk, then apparently remembered that Tiffany couldn't hear her. Leaning in close, she cupped her hands around and shouted directly into Tiffany's ear: "I want to try dancing tonight, but I think I'll need some alcohol, first." Tiffany raised her eyebrows. That was unexpected.

What was even more unexpected was what Taeyeon told her when they reached the bar. "I want to match you drink for drink."

Tiffany’s brow crinkled with concern.  “You sure?  I can go through a lot of alcohol, and you said you were a lightweight…”  They had taken a cab to the club, so there was no worry of drunk driving, and god knew Tiffany had spent many a night hovering over Monarch’s less-than-pristine toilets, holding Sunny or Sooyoung’s hair back for them as the contents of their stomach spilled into the bowl, desperately attempting to keep her own roiling guts at bay, but, given the recent knowledge she had gained about Taeyeon, she wasn’t so sure loosened inhibitions were a good thing.

Taeyeon smiled and it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “Well, take it easy on me, then.  I want to maybe remember whatever happens tonight.”

Tiffany had many mottos in life.  Chief among them was, “Whatever happens, happens.”  She ordered two of her favorite shots:  vanilla vodka, tossed with watermelon schnapps and sour mix, and handed one to Taeyeon.  “Shall we make a toast?” she asked Taeyeon.

Taeyeon eyed her glass and sniffed it.  “To what?”

“To life, love, and new experiences!”  Okay, maybe that “love” part wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, and “new experiences” could be interpreted to mean something potentially awkward, but hey, it sounded better in her head.  If Taeyeon was bothered, she didn’t show it.  They clinked glasses and Tiffany tipped the drink back, relishing the sweet, tart burn down and the promise of another fun night.

Taeyeon her lips and looked approvingly at her now-empty shot glass. “Tastes like pink Starburst.  Not bad!”

Tiffany did a tiny wiggle of happiness.  Finding something Taeyeon liked always felt like a victory.  She was tempted to order something to take downstairs with her, but held back, hoping to spare Taeyeon from being completely blindsided with intoxication, should she be determined to continue this “drink matching” nonsense--which, given her stubbornness, was inevitable.  She decided to space things out a little more than usual.

“Should we dance?” asked Taeyeon, and Tiffany was baffled by her friend’s newfound extroversion for the third time in five minutes.  The shot couldn’t be working that quickly.

They made their way back downstairs to the dance floor.  It was packed, typical for Thursdays, scant inches between each body.  Tiffany noticed a few of the regulars among the crowd:  Yuri, a fellow business major who lived in a dorm room down the hall, tearing the floor up as usual, and Kibum, who went by the moniker “Key,” a rather flamboyant guy who always seemed to have a swarm of women around him.  Briefly, Tiffany wondered if the girl from last week was here again.  She didn’t catch her name, and barely remembered “getting her mack on,” as Sooyoung had put it so elegantly, but she prayed that she wasn’t here tonight.

She turned to look at Taeyeon, wide-eyed and stiff as a board, standing at the edge of the dance pit like it was quicksand.  It seemed her confidence was faltering.  Tiffany began to reach out to grab her hand, paused for a moment to consider it--though she never had done that before--then mentally shrugged and grasped Taeyeon’s hand anyway, pulling her into the fray.  In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was being too pushy, but Taeyeon could talk her way out of participating in any social situation, and dammit, Tiffany wasn’t having any of that tonight.

“Stay close to me and follow my lead!  You’ll be okay!” she funnelled her voice into Taeyeon’s ear as half a dozen bodies brushed against hers.  The sounds, the closeness, even the smell of the place was electrifying to her.  She began to groove along to the music, hoping Taeyeon would catch the hint.  Tiffany knew she wasn’t exactly the best at dancing, but assumed that with enough effort, and alcohol, she could make up for it.  Not that it mattered; most of the people at Monarch couldn’t do much more than bumping and grinding, anyway.

She could tell Taeyeon was trying not to stand too close to her, and it certainly wasn’t the first time.  Why hadn’t she noticed it before?  So many things were beginning to make sense… things she wished she could’ve gone on being oblivious about.  Dammit, Sooyoung!  At least, she could try to show Taeyeon a good time… as a friend.

Bobbing her head a bit to the beat, though her limbs were still seemingly frozen, Taeyeon appeared to be trying to enjoy herself, as far as Tiffany could tell.  Hopefully she could loosen up with time.

The song ended, another came on, then another.  Tiffany was itching for another drink (and possibly to also get away from the pungent man who seemed glued to her side), and perhaps to give Taeyeon, who had just begun to rhythmically move her shoulders a fraction of an inch, a chance to breathe.  She waved toward the stairs, and chuckled at the look of utter relief that washed over Taeyeon’s face.  “You ready for another drink?” she asked.

Taeyeon nodded solemnly, looking like a shell-shocked warrior returning from the battlefield.

“Why don’t you pick something for us this time?”

“I don’t know what to get!  What do you want?”  Taeyeon stared at the bottles on the wall as though searching for inspiration.

“Anything!  I’ll drink it!”  And Tiffany had probably tried everything on that wall by now.

Taeyeon returned with two Long Islands.  Oh boy.  The bartenders at Monarch made them strong and sweet as hell, and before Tiffany could stop her, Taeyeon had nearly half of the drink gone.  Tiffany mentally prepared herself for hair-holding duties.

Back into the mess they went, the music hammering in their chests.