I handed him a paper plate, which he accepted with exaggerated slowness, just to irritate me.

I sat down beside him with a flop. “She went back to Compulsion, can you believe that? And she wanted me to go with her. Sorry, but I just don’t see the appeal of worrying about whether you will be knifed in the bathroom for your lip gloss,” I muttered.

“Shit! Really? You wanna go?” Brooks asked, perking up.

I leveled him with my version of his patented “are you crazy?” look.

“So we can be humiliated when we’re told to go home by the Barbarian Bouncer?”

Brooks tossed the box of crackers onto the coffee table and wiped his hands on his jeans, making me cringe.

“Aubrey, seriously, we should go! Ever since last time I’ve really wanted to check it out, and you know you want to keep an eye on Renee,” he countered.

I started to voice my protests but was rudely cut off by Brooks placing his hand over my mouth.

“Don’t you dare deny it! You won’t be able to relax tonight for worrying about that flaky roommate of yours. So come on, get dolled up, and let’s go get our club on!” I smacked Brooks’s hand away and tried in vain to stay irritated with him, which was damned difficult as he started to wiggle his shoulders in a poor imitation of dancing.

“I don’t think I have anything in my closet that remotely resembles what a dominatrix would wear. There’s no way we’ll get inside,” I reasoned, hoping he’d drop it while simultaneously hoping he’d wear me down.

Because, damn him, he was right. I wanted to go. Though I wouldn’t admit that I had other reasons than just to keep tabs on my friend, that I was actually a teensy bit curious about the world Compulsion offered.

Okay, more than a teensy bit.

Even though I had been in level-ten panic mode during my last visit, something about the music, the atmosphere, the thrilling taste of danger that danced on the end of my tongue, was compelling.

The desire to escape made me anxious. Ever since the phone call with my mother, I had again been held prisoner by memories that I had tried very hard to keep tucked away in my subconscious.

It only took the sound of my mother’s voice to blow open the door I kept resolutely shut.

So the idea of letting go, of submerging myself in a world so completely outside my norm, was a lot more enticing than it ever would have been before.

And then there was the mystery man . . .

My decision was made.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet. I laughed at the wide-mouthed stare I received from Brooks.

I put my hands on my hips and rolled my eyes. “I thought you wanted to go. Come on, help me find something that is sufficiently slutty to get me inside,” I taunted, enjoying the shock on my friend’s face.

I didn’t surprise people very often, but I figured when I did, I might as well make it a doozy.

“Uh . . . okay,” Brooks stammered, following me into my bedroom.

Twenty minutes later I was standing in a sea of clothing that was about to make my OCD tendencies go into full-on meltdown.

“When did my penis become a freaking vagina? I’m a guy, Aubrey! A guy! I don’t know what the f**k you should wear! I’m all about taking the clothes off. Not putting them on.” Brooks was talking from his perch on my bed, where he had stretched out, watching my one-woman whirling dervish imitation.

I groaned and finally grabbed a jean skirt that I never wore, mostly because I liked keeping the girlie bits covered when I was out in public, and a black, off-the-shoulder sequined top.

Once I was dressed and had zipped up my knee-high black leather boots, I looked at myself in the mirror and wanted to immediately change back into my jeans and sweatshirt. It’s not as though I was dressed in anything overly dramatic. It was pretty tame by club standards, but it wasn’t me.

I had curled my long blond hair and opted to wear more makeup than usual. I just hoped it was enough, because this was just about all the energy I was willing to expend.

Brooks gave me a low whistle when I finished. His eyes raked me from head to toe, focusing a little too intently on my legs. His face was unnaturally flushed, and I started to think that perhaps this was a really bad idea.

I cleared my throat, and Brooks blinked and looked away, seeming embarrassed. “You look nice,” he said with a smile as his eyes flicked again over my body.

It was times like then that it was hard to forget that he had seen me naked . . . a lot. Our relationship had surprisingly never been uncomfortable. We had transitioned into easy camaraderie seamlessly. But now I felt a strange sort of tension radiating from him that had everything to do with his overactive hormones.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, hurriedly grabbing Renee’s black leather jacket. After putting it on, I gave him a quick once-over, noting he had gone home and changed while I was getting dressed.

He had turned in the khakis and button-down shirt for a fitted pair of jeans and a tight gray shirt with some sort of band logo on the front. He had styled his hair into spikes.

I leaned in closer, peering at his face. “Did you put eyeliner on? Seriously?” I snorted.

Brooks’s shoulders tensed. “It’s about looking the part, Aubrey. Shut up,” he responded tersely.

Guy-liner aside, Brooks looked good. Really good. Hopefully really good would be enough to get inside the club.

I grabbed my purse and followed Brooks out into the hallway. “Do we know where we’re going this time?” I asked as we got into his Honda.