—•TRISTAN•—
I’m not someone who enjoys going to clubs.
In fact, I can’t stand them.
I hate everything about them, from the deafening music that makes coherent thought impossible to the press of bodies and the stench of cheap perfume that clings to the air like smoke.
The only reason I ended up in one two weeks ago was because my mate Sammie practically dragged me there by my trousers, going on about how I needed to let loose, which, if I’m honest, didn’t make much sense to me.
When I got to the club that night, it took every ounce of willpower not to turn around and leave immediately.
I made every effort to avoid talking to anyone.
Honestly, I don’t much like people, especially women.
Most of them are only interested in what they can get from me.
Sammie, on the other hand, loves w
