"I still can't believe you kissed Tristan and won't give me any details!" Nicole flings herself onto my bed in frustration. The clip-on devil horns I had carefully placed in her hair are now askew. She picks up her head and glances out my window. "Hey, his lights are on. Maybe I'll just ask HIM what happened!"

She springs off my bed in a flurry of red, black, and sequins, rushing to my window to pry it open. I lunge at her before she has a chance to yell out anything embarrassing. Nicole wiggles in my hold, finally making me release my grip on her.

"Don't you dare," I warn her, pointing the end of my mascara wand at her.

"I wouldn't challenge a devil like that," Nicole laughs, fixing her horns. I swat her hands away and adjust them for her before she ruins the look even further. "But seriously, as your best friend I have a right to know everything that happened leading up to the kiss and what went down after."

"Nothing exciting," I lie, turning back to my mirror to finish my makeup. Yesterday after school, we got a text from The Underground about tonight's theme: Devil's Night. Nate drove us to the dollar store around lunch today to pick up some supplies and told us he would meet us at the club with his friends. Nicole and I have been busy all day making our costumes and trying to replicate the drink her girlfriend made us last time. Speaking of which...

"Why isn't Chloe coming out with us tonight?" I ask Nicole.

"She had to go out of town to visit her older sister. She's so bummed she's missing this theme! I think she told me that she's been a devil for Halloween for the past 8 years in a row."

"That's some dedication right there," I comment with a mumble, concentrating hard on trying not to poke my eye out with the mascara wand. "Can you text her and ask what the proportions were on the vodka lemonade we had last week? I took a sip from it a few minutes ago and it definitely did not taste as good."

Nicole nods and proceeds to text her girlfriend. I finish my makeup and pull the fitted deep red dress I had picked out down my legs. Why did I think I could walk out of the house in something so short? I tug relentlessly at the hem, giving up when the material doesn't stretch anymore. Instead of heels, the two of us opted for the more comfortable option of converse shoes. But the similarities stopped there.

While I am in the world's shortest dress, Nicole is in extremely ripped black jeans, a sequined red bodysuit, and a million silver necklaces decorating her exposed neck and chest. She looked hot. And she had pockets. I had her my phone and she instinctively puts in in her left back pocket while also pouring more lemonade into our cocktail bottle.

Fifteen minutes of primping later, we hop in our Uber before Uncle Luke could get a good look at what I was wearing. Nate texted us that he was at the club there with half the soccer team and we didn't want to be any more late than we already were.

Just as the previous Saturday, the car drops us in front of the dentist office and we make our way down the dark hallway until we reach the door with a bouncer in black and a line of our costume-clad peers. The sea of red and horns moves through the door quickly, and soon Nicole and I join the rest of the club goers in the basement of the building.

The whole space is flooded with red light, pitch forks circling each thick pillar like a gate. Devil horns suspend over the crowd and occasionally I see flashes of fire erupt from the bar in the corner. I don't know how, but The Underground outdid itself with the theme tonight.

Nicole and I bounce our way across the dance floor to the rest of our friends, all who seem to be deeper into their supply of alcohol than we are. I take a swig from out bottle to catch up. So much better than before. I'm pretty sure before Nicole fixed the ratio the cocktail was 99% vodka. Note to never let her make me a drink in the future.

We all dance and drink for what seems like hours because suddenly I feel like my bladder is going to explode. I wave my hand in front of Nicole's face to get her attention. "I'm going to go find the bathroom!" I yell over the music. She just drunkenly nods and smiles. I'm confident that she did not hear a single word I said. I point in a random direction and yell "bathroom!" and then push my way through the swaying crowd.

I can't see over the heads of dancing people and can't even heard myself think over the music. Somehow, I end up standing on one of the raised platforms that have couches and tables. I scan the club and locate the bathrooms on the other side, close to the stairs that lead back up to the dentist office. I rush as quickly as I can to that end of the club, thankfully before I burst.

After using the bathroom, I wash my hands and steady myself against the sink. There are a few girls in here with me, all touching up their lipstick that has undoubtedly been smeared by kissing some guys. I touch my own lips, thinking about the last guy I kissed. I wonder where Tristan is tonight? Maybe his friend is here like last week. I should go find him and ask him where Tristan is.

I smile at myself in the mirror, flick a horn back in place, and exit the bathroom. I know I'm drunk, but I don't care. I want to kiss Trista again and smell his cinnamon scent all over me and run my fingers through his hair and stare into those mesmerizing green eyes and...

I'm on one of the platforms again. How did I get here? I scan the club and can't see where Nicole and Nate are. Maybe they're in the middle of the dance floor? Or maybe they went to go get water? There are too many people here.

"Hey, you look lost," a voice from behind me booms. I jump a little and turn around to see a dark haired guy with a strong jaw. I don't recognize him from school, but then again not every person at The Underground is from my high school.

"Um yeah," I say over the music. "I went to the bathroom and now I can't find my friends." I look back towards the dance floor one more time, hoping they would materialize out of thin air. But all the devil horns blur together and I can't pick out the ones I had personally clipped in.

"I can help you," the guy says with a smile. "Follow me." He grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs of the platform. He's edging us along the perimeter of the club, allowing enough space between us and the rest of the people for me to breathe. What a nice guy.

"What's your name?" I ask loudly. He doesn't turn around. He probably can't hear me. "Do we go to school together?" I ask him, a little more loudly than the last question. He still doesn't answer me.

What he does do is open a side door and pull me inside.

It's dark. No, it's not dark. There are screens with videos of the club on them. And... a control panel? Oh, I'm in a security room. Why am I in a security room?

"I don't think my friends are in here," I comment to myself quietly, forcing my jumbled brain to work through how I got here in the first place.

"I thought we could come in here and talk," the guy says. He takes a step towards me, making me stumble back against the now closed door. "Or not talk."