Maybe things could change. Maybe the world, broken as it was, still had room for new stories.
It didn’t take long for the rhythm of the booth to overflow. After Frankie spilled a gin and tonic on the table. "My bad!" she declared, "We’re too hot for this furniture. Dance floor or bust!"
Tavi shrieked, "Yes!" and within seconds, the entire group was weaving their way past tables and onto the scarred expanse of parquet dance floor. The bass thumped through the soles of my shoes, followed by the opening riff of a song that had once been the soundtrack to a summer I barely remembered.
We found each other in the center, hands linked in a rough circle. Frankie yanked me in by the wrist and spun me so hard I nearly toppled, then caught me with a move that should’ve dislocated her own shoulder.
"You have to go with it, babe," she said, sweat already dotting her hairline.
I went with it.
Skye was a nightmare on the beat, but she compensated by yelling along with every lyric. Aurelia danced like a woman who had spent centuries perfecting the illusion of grace, but Erin and Rissa brought her down to earth with their wild, unchoreographed joy. I even lost my self-consciousness. The feeling of being in the middle of it, alive and wanted, crowded out the old scripts of worry and vigilance.
During the third song, I glanced over and caught the men exactly where I’d expected. Posted up at the bar, six deep, angled so each one had a line of sight to the dance floor. Ashton and Nathan stood slightly apart, arms crossed, wearing identical looks of amused concern. Zaden tried to appear oblivious, but his eyes followed every one of my steps. Gavin and Drake hovered near, feigning interest in a televised darts match. Chance sat at the end of the bar, drink untouched, his focus a laser on Frankie.
I rolled my eyes at the collective overprotectiveness, but some buried part of me basked in it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed being watched over for the right reasons, not the dangerous ones.
The playlist shifted, and suddenly we were in the middle of a nineties throwback. Frankie shrieked and started doing the running man, only to trip over her own feet and collapse againstSkye, who, against all laws of physics, caught her and set her upright in one smooth motion. Dragon reflexes for the win.
"Show-off," Frankie muttered, but hugged her anyway.
The song spun out, then slowed, the pulsing lights dipping to a lower, honeyed glow. An old torch ballad drifted through the speakers, and Skye booed, but Aurelia grinned at me and said, "Now we dance for real."
She nudged me in the direction of the bar. Zaden was already halfway across the floor, hands in pockets, waiting for me to catch up. He was a terrible dancer, too tall, too aware of his own limbs, but he offered his arm with mock formality. I took it, feeling his hand settle at my waist.
We swayed, barely moving. He tucked his chin so I could hear him over the music. "Are you having fun?" he asked.
I tipped my head up, met the gold of his eyes. "I think this is the first time I’ve felt normal in… maybe ever."
His grip tightened. "It looks good on you."
The slow song lasted an eternity, or maybe two minutes. Either way, I let myself melt into him. For once, I didn’t look around to see if anyone was judging.
I glanced to my left. Ashton and Erin were locked in conversation as they danced. Erin’s laugh had the shyness of someone who’d only recently rediscovered joy, but Ashton’s smile softened the air around them. Nathan, surprisingly light on his feet, spun Rissa with an ease that suggested a hundred dances before this one. Gavin played bartender for Tavi and Frankie, bringing them a fresh round of shots. Tavi tried to teach him the robot, while Frankie grinned and clinked her glassagainst his. Drake cut in on Skye, twirling her with a flourish that drew applause from the tables.
Only Chance stayed on the sidelines, elbows braced on the bar, his expression a study in hunger and regret.
Zaden pulled me in, wrapped his arms around me, and held me as the world swirled.
For the first time in forever, I let myself believe it could last.
Around us, friends old and new made their own circles, their own magic, their own hope for a future bigger than any of us could imagine.
And for tonight, at least, that was enough.
Epilogue: Chance
It was supposedto have been a normal night at Z’s Place, a little bullshit, a little trash talk, maybe a few rounds of whiskey to prime the pumps before the real chaos started. I’d been back less than a week, and already the world was a funhouse mirror of old memories and new rules. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the way the bar smelled. beer and fried food, the faint electric tang of neon and cheap vinyl.
But none of that registered. Not the regulars, not the wolves clustered at the end of the bar, not even Drake’s endless stream of one-liners as he hustled the shuffleboard. Every nerve I had was locked onto a single, shrill frequency, the one that tracked Frankie across the room, lit up under the can lights like a goddamn star.
For her, it had been ten years. For me, it might as well have been ten minutes. The last time I saw her, she was yelling at me on my front porch, mascara running, voice shot to hell. I’d made it cruel on purpose, the only way to break the spell before I went under. Tell a woman you only ever wanted her for the sex, and you’llget every bridge burned in record time. I’d hoped she’d hate me forever.
It didn’t work.
She’d changed, but not in the ways that made it easier. Her hair was longer now, the wild brown curls tamed into something sleeker, but the smile was the same. Her body had gone softer in the places that mattered, and she wore it like armor. She was a queen. A goddess. Laughter poured off her in waves. She didn’t look at me once, not even a stolen glance.
My hands shook around the glass. I gripped it tighter, but the tremor only got worse. I knocked the rim against my teeth, slopping whiskey onto the bar top. I cleaned it with a napkin, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving her.
