One night with my father's best friend

Chapter 1

Lola

I felt a gentle squeeze on my shoulder as my tears dropped to the ground.

It was my father's burial. I was yet to wrap my mind around the fact that the man I considered my hero was gone forever.

"We need to leave, Lola," Reid whispered to me softly.

He was my best friend and my support system apart from my mom. He was the reason I wasn't shattered completely.

"Can't I stay back and mourn him? I can't believe he's gone, Reid," my voice trembled noticeably, and Reid, unable to see me in pain, gathered me into his arms.

He ran his fingers slowly through my hair. It was one soothing gesture of his that I loved so much. It always helped me to relax.

"You can always come back to visit him, but for now, you need to be with your mom," He reminded me.

I nodded against his chest, sniffing and blinking hard to keep the tears from gushing out.

He led me to my mother. I stared at her, wondering how she was unable to shed a single tear throughout the burial ceremony. It wasn't news that she didn't care so much about my late father, but couldn't she have cried a little?

"Mom," I melted in her arms while she held me.

I couldn't remember being this vulnerable with her in a long time.

"Oh, my baby," I could hear the tremor in her voice.

"He's gone, mom. He's never coming back," I croaked.

She kissed my forehead, her grip on my body a bit more tight. "He's in a better place now,"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

He'd fought lung cancer for the past three years and finally caved in last month. I watched him smile through the pain, concealing it with lots of laughter until there was nothing to hide anymore, and when he took his last breath, I feared that my life had ended with his.

"Maybe he is," I disengaged from her embrace, taking a step away from her. "I need to clear my head, mom. This is just too much for me to handle,"

She seemed reluctant, but she didn't hold me back, which I was grateful for.

It was crazy that I was staying away from her when we were supposed to be together, but it was much easier for me to process my grief alone.

I headed out, stopping a taxi that took me to the club.

The signpost of the club 'Sweaty nights' was tempting enough to draw me in. I wanted the noise. I didn't want company, but I also didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be out of my head and this club provided all of that.

Loud music blaring from the speakers mounted in every corner of the building temporarily swallowed the dull ache in my heart.

I was wearing a black, long-sleeved dress. It wasn't a club fit, but it was good enough. Once the security