Sipping on your drink, a Cosmopolitan — you weren't feeling really creative —, in your little red dress, a deep color that went so well with your skin tone, that barely covered anything, your eyes sweeped around the club, scanning every person in your field of vision.

It was cold night, but you went out anyway. You liked the good places, the ones that weren't cramped, the ones with good atmospheres, and people who dressed like those models in your pinterest boards. Places where you could sit quietly, hang around where the light was and you could actually see what went in your glass, look around for someone to score. A little hook-up never hurt anyone.

Abby followed your gaze, but from the other side, watching you. She noticed how you ignored the men who tried to talk to you, rolling your eyes and fixing your hair, pretending not to hear them. She grinned at that. Maybe she could walk up to you and try not to be ignored.

That's when you noticed a tall, blonde woman with large shoulders covered by a dark leather jacket, one hand in the pocket of her loose jeans and the other holding her glass, walking in your direction.