Drunk food with Valentine and Ashley

The night drags long in the club. You can’t help but sneak long glances at the girls you’re dancing with as song after song runs by you, admiring their fit physiques. These girls are putting their great bodies on full display for you, so tantalizingly close to being within reach. You want to make a move on them, but somehow, the timing never feels right. The girls aren’t getting as close as you thought they might. From the way they’re acting, they’re down to dance, but not for more. That’s fine, you tell yourself. The point of a night like this is to have fun. And I’m having plenty of fun.

You dance your heart out with Val and Ashley, losing yourself in the mix and the music. Everything seems to flow from one song to the next, one girl to the next, and you find yourself content. To drift along with the music is to be free. All the stresses of life have evaporated. There’s only the current moment, the massive beat in the sky and the thousand hands in the air, raving together.

But all good things must come to an end. As the night hits a later hour, the crowd begins to thin. The remaining people are the most diehard fans of the club scene. Your feet feel like lead and you desperately need something to drink. Something non-alcoholic, for a change.

“Shall we call it a night?” you ask, noticing that Val and Ashley have begun to slow down too.

“Damn, yes, I’m done dancing,” Val says, rubbing her legs.

“You’re going to have to carry me out,” Ashley laughs, slumping over Val’s shoulder. The two of them seem to find something extraordinarily funny about that statement, but much to your relief, with just a bit of support from you, the three of you make it out of the club just fine.

Out here in the street, you suddenly realize how damn hungry you are.

“I’d kill for a bite right now,” you say.

“Drunk food?” Ashley asks, eyeing you and Val.

“Drunk food!” Val says, punching the air.

Clearly, the drunk is there. Now, it’s just time to locate the food.

Luckily, you’re in New York City, and there is no better drunk food than a piping hot NYC pizza, made fresh to order. Fifteen minutes after you stumble out of the club, the three of you are sitting in a small pizzeria, the slices of pepperoni steaming in the cardboard box so enticing that the three of you don’t bother speaking. It’s straight to stuffing your faces.

Never has food tasted so good. The cheese that melts in your mouth is so thick, the pepperoni has just that bit of a kick to it, the pizza so crisp and fatty and salty in your mouth, that you swear aloud, “Shit, this is better than sex.”

“Fills me up just as good, let me tell you that,” Ashley says.

“I don’t know about that,” Val laughs, “but this is the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life.”

“The best food I’ve ever had in my life,” you amend, picking up a second slice.

The girls aren’t far behind you, grabbing their second slices too, and you realize with a start that there’s only enough for three slices for each of you. You stare at each other, crestfallen.

“Wait,” Ashley says, mid-bite. “We can just order more.”

The problem solving abilities of the Mossy League genii strike again! You shove the second piece of the pie into your mouth as quickly as you can, and with the third in hand, walk up to the counter to order your next pizza.

The owner, fully expecting this to happen, has already put another pie in the oven.

“The wait won’t be long,” he chuckles, watching the three of you stuff your faces.

You wash down the pizza with some soda, knowing that this shit is crap for you, but enjoying it all the more.

“That was a damn good night out,” Ashley says. “It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.”

“Really? It’s been long since you’ve gone clubbing?” you ask, skeptical. The Kale striker seemed like a fish in water at the club.

“No, I was out last week too,” she laughs. “But it’s always more fun when you find a familiar face or two.”

“It was a good time,” Val nods, raising her third slice of pizza, before promptly biting off half of it.

You spend a minute or two chewing, staring at each other. The weight of the food is beginning to settle in, and you wonder to yourself if going for another pizza was the right decision. Fuck it. That’s what nights like this are for, right?

The three of you chill in the pizzeria, making small talk and digesting, until the second pizza comes out of the oven piping hot. You each dig in and have a slice, before Val suddenly checks her phone.

“Oh shit,” she says. “We’ve got to catch the train back to Stonewall.”

“I should be getting back to Kale too,” Ashley nods, reluctantly.

“I’m done eating,” you say. “But it would be a shame to toss the rest of this pizza.”

“I can bring it back to my suite,” Ashley says. “The boys there’ll eat it right up.”

“Perfect,” Val says. She groans as she gets up from the chair, stretching, the sparkling rhinestones on her dress incongruous with the linoleum-themed decor in the pizzeria. “I am not looking forward to class tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” you say, and Ashely echoes the sentiment.

Ah well. A small price to pay for a night of fun.

Valentine +30
Ashley +50