Yvonne likes me, parties without apologies, and she isn’t complicated by marriage vows or professional boundaries. She’s safe in her simplicity, the opposite of Vaeda’s complex allure. Maybe she’s exactly what I need tonight.
I answer, raising the phone to my ear as I stare at the untouched drink, fingers wrapped tightly around the cool glass. “Hey.”
“Mateo!” Her voice is bright, yet tinged with worry. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed really upset earlier. Where are you?”
I pause, the thrum of the music beating through my silence. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I’m at Pulse. Come join me?”
She laughs lightly, clearly surprised and delighted by my invitation. “Absolutely. I’ll be there in ten.”
Ending the call, I finally lift the glass, studying the swirling liquid. This is reckless, but tonight I crave recklessness. My gaze drifts to the crowded dance floor, the rhythm calling to me, promising distraction and release.
Yet as I stand poised at this edge, drink in hand, waiting for Yvonne’s arrival, a nagging thought gnaws at the back of my mind, whispering dangerously,Once you cross this line, can you ever really turn back?
VAEDA
I stand frozen just inside Fusion Core’s studio doors, watching as Yvonne paces restlessly across the polished hardwood floors. Her cell phone is pressed urgently against her ear, her face alight with anticipation and excitement. My stomach twists uncomfortably, a growing knot of suspicion and jealousy tightening inside my chest.
She laughs, a bright, carefree sound that sends a pang of irritation straight through me. My jaw clenches as the unsettling thought takes root.She’s talking to Mateo. I’d meant every wordabout our age difference, the gap that seemed insurmountable, but the idea of Mateo turning his affections toward Yvonne fills me with irrational jealousy. A jealousy I don’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel.
Suddenly, Yvonne grabs her coat from the rack by the door, her movements hurried and eager. She hangs up quickly, a smile still curving her lips, oblivious to my watchful gaze.
“Everything alright, Yvonne?” I call out, forcing my voice into neutrality even as my pulse races in my veins.
Yvonne glances up, startled, her eyes briefly flickering with surprise and irritation before quickly masking it with a casual shrug. “Yeah, everything’s great. Just going to meet a friend.”
The vague response only sharpens the sting of jealousy, the sensation burning through my chest like wildfire. I try to maintain composure, offering a faint, polite nod. “Be careful out there. It’s getting late, and Merry Christmas.”
“I will,” she promises quickly, clearly distracted. “Merry Christmas!” Then she rushes out of the studio, taking my patience and propriety with her.
An uneasy feeling settles over me, gnawing at the edges of my awareness. Something about her hurried departure and barely concealed excitement sends a chill down my spine. Before rational thought can intervene, I’m grabbing my jacket, pulling it tightly around myself as I follow swiftly behind her.
Outside, the city streets glisten beneath fresh snow flurries, streetlights radiating a hazy, golden glow across the wet pavement. Yvonne strides confidently ahead, unaware of my presence, her steps hurried. My heart pounds heavily, anxiety and uncertainty warring within me as I keep pace at a careful distance.
Every step that takes me closer to uncovering her destination brings a fresh surge of dread. Yet beneath the apprehension lies a darker truth. I’m driven by jealousy, by a possessiveness I haveno right to feel. Mateo’s face flashes vividly through my mind, his intense eyes, then the passionate edge of his voice when he spoke of his feelings for me. I’ve pushed him away, yet I can’t bear the thought of someone else holding him close.
The thought sends an agonizing ache through my heart, clawing painfully at my insides, but beneath this jealousy, another emotion surfaces, powerful and insistent. Worry. Mateo is vulnerable, standing at the precipice of temptation, and I know all too well how quickly a single misstep can unravel everything.
My footsteps quicken as Yvonne turns a corner, a sinking feeling pulling me deeper into this reckless chase. I know this is dangerous, risky, and possibly foolish, but my heart overrides every rational argument.
Fear tightens its grip around my chest, suffocating in its intensity. If Mateo spirals, it could cost him everything he’s fought so hard to rebuild, and suddenly, the jealousy fades to the background, replaced by a profound sense of urgency and dread. Tonight, boundaries blur, and I can’t help but follow the trail, even if it leads me into the very chaos I’ve desperately sought to avoid. Because beneath everything, the one undeniable truth remains: I’ve finally realized that I’m terrified of losing him.
I continue to follow Yvonne from a safe distance, ducking beneath the streetlights and pressing into the shadows. The streets are slick, reflecting the neon buzz of storefronts and car headlights in a distorted mirror. Every time Yvonne glances over her shoulder, I duck behind parked cars and awnings, heart hammering. I should feel ridiculous, but I don’t. I feel sick, because I have a feeling I know where she’s going.
The moment I see the glowing red letters of Pulse Nightclub come into view, another wave of dread washes over me. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the line of well-dressedmen and women, the thrumming beat of bass vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat.
He’s here, and she’s going to him.
I pick up my pace, eyes locked on her light brown hair bobbing through the crowd until she stops at the end of the line. She’s checking her reflection in the darkened glass, applying a fresh coat of lipstick, smiling like she’s ready to party. Like this is a date.
No. Fucking. Way.
I push through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed murmurs, and march straight up to the bouncer at the door. He eyes me with a mixture of boredom and irritation, arms folded across his chest.
“Please,” I gasp. “I need to get inside. My boyfriend’s in there. He’s an addict, and he’s... he’s not okay.”
The bouncer raises an eyebrow. “Because that isn’t a line I’ve heard before.”
“I don’t have time for this.” My voice cracks, more raw and real than I intended. “If he drinks tonight, he’ll relapse, and if he relapses, he could die. Please.”
