Fast, pulsating, endorphin inducing music blares, even through the closed door, as I round the corner. The line of people is longer than I imagined; it wraps completely around the opposite side of the building. I hesitate. Nerves, excitement, and a twinge of desperation seep through my body. Shivering, I blame it on the crisp November night air instead of the fact that this is my first night out to a bar since leaving Pickens…leaving Justin. “The line’s over there. Go or get out of the way.” The voice of a stunning blonde with perfectly straight hair and flashy manicured nails snaps me back to the moment. “Sorry,” I mumble. Giving a smug smirk, the look in her eyes tells me she couldn’t care less if I’m sorry or not; she just wants to get her coveted spot in line before the bar reaches its capacity and the unlucky ones are sent home after hours of fruitless waiting. “Go ahead,”
