Anabella POV's
It was the weekend, and all I, Anabella, wanted was to savor the simple pleasures of a lazy day. My grand plan? Sleep until noon, raid the fridge, hit the gym for a quick sweat, binge a couple of cheesy rom-coms, and then dive back into the blissful embrace of my bed. A perfect, no-fuss day in the life of a proudly introverted 22-year-old. But, of course, the universe or rather, my best friend Lizzy had other plans.
Lizzy, my whirlwind of a bestie, was the kind of person who could turn a quiet evening into a full-blown adventure with a single text. I loved her dearly, but her relentless energy was both a blessing and a curse. She thrived on spontaneity, while I cherished the sanctity of my own company. Don't get me wrong, hanging out with her was always a riot, but it was rarely on my terms. And today, like clockwork, she was about to derail my perfectly curated solo day.
"Ana! Ana!! ANA!!!" Her voice pierced through the walls of my bedroom, accompanied by the rhythmic banging on my door. I groaned, pulling the covers over my head as if that could shield me from her persistence. Lizzy had a knack for being extra, and this morning was no exception. The door rattled with each thump, and I could practically see her standing there, all five feet of chaotic energy, grinning like she was auditioning for the role of "most annoying best friend."
I knew her game. She'd bang until I got annoyed enough to fling the door open, and then she'd waltz in like she owned the place. Opening that door was a trap, but the banging wasn't stopping, and my patience was wearing thin. With a dramatic sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, shuffled across the room, and yanked the door open.
There she was, Lizzy, beaming with the most infuriatingly sweet smile. "Hi, bestie! Mind if I come inside?" she chirped, her voice dripping with innocence that I knew was a total sham. Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, and her wild curls bounced as she tilted her head, waiting for my inevitable surrender.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the door frame. "Lizzy, you're already halfway in. What's the point of asking?"
She didn't wait for further invitation, breezing past me and making a beeline for my wardrobe. I shut the door and followed, already bracing myself for whatever scheme she was cooking up. Lizzy flung open the closet doors and started rifling through my clothes with the intensity of a fashion critic at a thrift store. "Aishh, sweetheart," she groaned, holding up a perfectly respectable pair of sweatpants like they were a crime against humanity. "How is it possible that you have no sexy clothes? You're 22, Ana, not 15! How much longer do I have to play personal stylist?"
I flopped onto my bed, suppressing a laugh. "Okay, Miss Fashion Police, enlighten me. Why do I need sexy clothes? I'm not going to a party, a club, or anywhere else today, angel." I was teasing her now, fully aware of her intentions but enjoying the chance to make her squirm. Lizzy's plans were as predictable as they were outrageous, and I knew exactly where this was headed.
She spun around, hands on her hips, her expression a mix of exasperation and theatrics. "Ana, don't play dumb with me. You know why I'm here." She paced the room, one hand dramatically pressed to her forehead like a soap opera star. "We're going out, and we're going to have fun. Real fun. Not your 'curl up with a movie and a bag of chips' kind of fun. I'm talking lights, music, dancing-club vibes!"
I couldn't hold back my laughter anymore. "Lizzy, you and I both know what happens when you say 'club vibes.' You have one drink, suddenly think you're Beyoncé, and then I'm stuck babysitting you while you flirt with every guy in a five-mile radius."
She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. "I am not that bad! Okay, maybe a little, but that's why you love me. I keep things interesting." She flashed her signature puppy-dog eyes, the ones that could melt even the coldest heart. "Come on, Ana. One night. Let's live a little."
I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. Lizzy was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and her track record at clubs was... colorful. One shot of tequila, and she'd be dancing on tables, giggling uncontrollably, or worse, drawing the attention of every sleazy guy in the room. Those "horny dogs," as I not-so-affectionately called them, always seemed to sniff her out, ready to pounce with their cheesy lines and wandering hands. And who was left to fend them off? Me, the designated best-friend bodyguard.
But deep down, I couldn't say no to her. Not because I was a pushover; okay, maybe a little but because Lizzy had a way of making even the most chaotic nights unforgettable. Plus, I'd never forgive myself if I let her go alone and something happened. So, I relented. "Fine. But if you start singing 'Single Ladies' at the top of your lungs again, I'm leaving you there."
She squealed, throwing her arms around me. "You're the best, Ana! Okay, let's find you something to wear that doesn't scream 'I'm here to read a book in the corner.'"
After some back-and-forth, we compromised on my outfit. I wasn't about to squeeze into one of Lizzy's skin-tight dresses, but I settled on a pair of ripped jeans, an off-shoulder black top that was just edgy enough to satisfy her, and my new white sneakers for that touch of comfort. Lizzy, of course, went all out-a sparkly red dress that hugged her curves and screamed "look at me." She twirled in front of my mirror, clearly pleased with herself. "Club, here we come!" she declared, striking a pose.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"And you love me for it," she shot back, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door.
As we headed out, I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to be anything but ordinary. Lizzy's energy was infectious, and despite my introverted tendencies, a tiny part of me was curious to see where this night would take us. The club was waiting, and with Lizzy by my side, I knew we were in for a wild ride whether I liked it or not.