At one point, Eve spins me, then pulls me back so we’re chest to chest. Her lips part in a wicked smile.
“You’re a natural,” she shouts over the music.
“I don’t know what I’m doing!” I yell back, laughing.
Eve’s mouth grazes my jaw, as she murmurs that she’s going to grab a drink for us, and then she twirls away, vanishing into the crowd.
I dance alone, eyes closed, arms raised, for the first time in my life not thinking about what I look like or who’s watching.
I don’t notice the man watching me from the bar until the music shifts, the tempo slowing, the crowd thinning. I catch his gaze: tall, dark hair, not quite handsome but magnetic in a way that makes my stomach twist. He holds my stare for a long moment, then looks away.
I shiver, unsure if it’s excitement or dread.
I find Isolde at a corner table, surrounded by empty glasses and a few girls I don’t recognize. She waves me over, and I slide into the booth beside her.
“You having fun?” she asks.
I nod. “Is it always like this?”
She laughs, slow and low. “It’s never the same twice. That’s what I love about it. Came here with Bam and the girls quite a bit before I got so big. Nice just to be normal, you know?”
She glances at her phone, then at the door. “Dahlia went to call her father. Something about business.”
I sip her water. “How are you so calm?”
She smiles, stroking her belly. “You stop being afraid after a while. Especially when you realize that most of the things you’re scared of can’t hurt you unless you let them.”
I think of Julian, of the way he looked at me last night. Of the way my body responded, the way I was dripping with need for him, long before I asked him to fuck me.
Isolde must sense my mood. She puts a hand on my knee. “You can talk about it, you know. Whatever it is.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure where to start.
Isolde just waits. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only patience.
“I think I like him,” I say at last. “Julian.”
Isolde grins. “Of course you do. You’d be insane not to.”
“But I’m scared,” I admit.
She nods, understanding. “He’s a lot. But so are you. That’s why it works.”
I don’t know if I believe her, but it feels good to say it out loud.
Eve returns, cheeks flushed, hair a tangled halo around her face. She collapses into the booth next to me, drapes an arm over my shoulders.
“Having fun?” she slurs, already a little drunk.
“Yeah,” I say, and mean it.
She leans in close, her lips just brushing my ear. “You look so hot right now. You could get anyone you wanted.”
I blush, but the compliment feels like a shield.
“Let’s go dance some more!” Eve squeals, dragging me up to the dance floor.
It’s even more packed than it was before. I lose Eve somewhere between the bathroom and the bar. One minute her hand is on my wrist, tugging me through the press of bodies, and the next she’s swallowed by the crowd, a flash of black mesh and red lipstick vanishing into the smoke. I call her name, but my voice gets eaten alive by the music.
