He chuckles, reaching for a shaker. “Coming right up. New in town?”
“That obvious, huh?” I watch as he expertly mixes something electric blue.
“Nah, just a hunch. Plus, I’d remember a smile like that.”
I feel a flush creeping up my neck, grateful for the mask. “Smooth talker. You must rake in the tips.”
“I do all right.” He winks, sliding the drink toward me. “But seriously, welcome to Burlington. You picked a hell of a night for your debut.”
I take a sip—it’s sweet with a kick that makes my eyes water. Perfect. “Thanks. Figure I might as well start the year with a bang, right?”
“That’s the spirit.” He nods approvingly. “Any resolutions?”
I pause, thinking of Mom. Of her encouragement to chase my dreams, even when they scared me. “Yeah,” I say finally. “To be brave. To grab life by the horns and all that cliché stuff.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He raises an imaginary glass. “Now go on, cutie. Your year of bravery awaits.”
I raise my very real, very blue drink in a toast and then turn back to the dancefloor. Here’s to you, new year. Let’s see what you’ve got.
I take another sip of my drink, the sweet burn lingering on my tongue as I scan the pulsing crowd. The dancefloor’s a sea of masks and moving bodies, everyone riding the same electric current of anticipation. New year, new possibilities. My heart beats in time with the bass, a giddy energy bubbling inside me.
Alright, Caspian, Time to put your money where your mouth is.
I down the rest of my drink in one go, wincing at the burn. Liquid courage acquired. With a deep breath, I push off from the bar and dive into the throng.
The music wraps around me like a second skin as I start to move. It’s been too long since I’ve let loose like this, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ve forgotten how. But then the beat shifts, and suddenly, my body remembers. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm take over.
My hips sway, arms reaching skyward. I can feel the energy of the crowd, the press of bodies all around me, but in this moment, I’m in my own little world. This is what I came for—this feeling of freedom, of endless potential.
I’m so lost in the music that I almost don’t notice when a presence materializes behind me. Almost. But it’s hard to miss when said presence radiates heat like a furnace and smells like cedar and something spicy I can’t quite place.
I open my eyes, turning slightly, and—Oh, hello! Tall, dark, and holy biceps, Batman.
He doesn’t say a word, just raises the corner of his mouth in a silent question:Can I join you?
I nod, grinning. Why the hell not?
We move together, finding a shared rhythm. It’s effortless, the way we fit. His hands find my hips, gentle but sure, and I lean back into his solid warmth.
Who are you? I want to ask. But the music’s too loud, and besides, there’s something intoxicating about this wordless communication. The anonymity of it all, especially with the masks.
So, instead, I lose myself in the dance, in the feeling of his body against mine. For once, I’m not thinking about tomorrow, next week, or the big move. I’m just here, in the moment, alive and electric and free.
And as the stranger spins me to face him, his masked face lit by flashes of neon, all I can think is how this is exactly how I wanted to start my year of being brave.
His eyes catch me off guard—they’re the kind of blue that reminds me of photos I’ve seen of the Mediterranean Sea in Greece, deep and endless, with flecks of lighter color that dance like sunlight on waves. Even through the mask, I can see the warmth in them, a gentleness that contrasts with his imposing size. Looking into those eyes feels like diving into summer despite the winter chill outside.
The song ends, and the stranger leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “May I buy you a drink?”
His voice is deep, rich like molasses. It sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
“Absolutely,” I reply, unable to keep the eager grin off my face.
We weave through the crowd to the bar, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me. It’s oddly intimate for two strangers, but hey, I’m not complaining.
At the bar, he orders two whiskeys, neat. I raise an eyebrow. “A man after my own heart.”
He chuckles, and even with the mask, I can see the crinkles around his eyes. Kind eyes. Warm eyes.
