“Llew, are you ready to go?”
Hans, currently in my living room and yelling at me to hurry up, had been badgering me for the past month to go clubbing. It was more his scene than mine, but he was a friend, and I had few of those. Since I was typically buried in work and barely went anywhere aside from bed to the office, maybe I owed him this evening. It was a Friday night, after all, and I already dreaded the pain relievers I would need to take when I got back home at ridiculous o’clock in the morning.
“I’m coming. Just chill, man,” I replied as I tucked my navy-blue shirt—there was a bleach stain at the hem, damn it—into khaki pants and closed the belt. My blond hair was cut close to the scalp like Eminem, because I hated the idea of gel, or a comb, or any fuss. I wanted to roll out of b
