Istare at myreflection in Mia’s full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. The emerald green baby doll dress hugs my curves in all the right places, making me look softer, more alive than I’ve felt in years. The matching mask frames my eyes, turning them into mysterious pools that hide the nervousness flickering behind them. I adjust the delicate gold filigree along the edge of the mask, my fingers trembling slightly. Tonight feels different, dangerous, like I’m stepping into one of my book worlds instead of just reading about it.
“Holy shit, you look hot,” Valerie says, appearing behind me in the mirror. Her red dress matches the style of mine, the same cut but different color, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves.
“You think?” I ask, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“That’s the whole point,” Mia calls from the bathroom where she’s putting the finishing touches on her makeup.Her dress is a sparkling sapphire blue, matching beautifully with her black hair. “Tonight, we can be whoever the fuck we want.”
Whoever I want. The thought sends a thrill down my spine. Eli left yesterday morning, another “business trip” that he refused to explain. His absence feels like freedom, and I hope he’s gone for longer. Usually his shorter trips are three days, but I never know for sure. Sometimes he’s gone for over a week.
“Here,” Valerie says, handing me a shot glass filled with amber fluid. “Liquid courage.”
I down it in one go, wincing at the burn. “Jesus, what is that?”
“Tequila,” she grins. “The good stuff.”
Mia emerges from the bathroom, her mask already in place, a stunning blue creation that makes her eyes look even more striking. “I called the Uber. Five minutes, ladies.”
We take selfies while we wait, posing with exaggerated pouts and sultry stares that make us collapse into giggles. It feels good to laugh, to be silly with my friends without constantly checking the time, calculating when I need to be home before Eli gets angry.
“I can’t remember the last time we did this,” I say as we pile into the back of the Uber, a cloud of perfume and excitement filling the small space.
“That’s because it’s been too fucking long,” Valerie says, squeezing my knee. “Tonight, we’re making up for lost time.”
The club is already packed when we arrive, a line stretching down the block. But Mia knows someone at the door, she always does. Then we’re ushered inside withoutwaiting. The bass hits me immediately, vibrating through my chest as if my heart has synced to its rhythm. Lights flash across the dance floor, turning masked faces into flickering apparitions.
“Drinks first?” Mia shouts over the music, already heading toward the bar.
We follow, weaving through bodies pressed close together. The bartender slides three colorful cocktails our way, and we clink glasses before taking long sips through thin black straws. The alcohol warms my insides, loosening the knot of tension that’s lived between my shoulder blades for years.
“Come on,” Valerie grabs my hand, pulling me toward the dance floor. “I love this song!”
I let her lead me into the crowd, Mia following close behind. We form a small circle, moving to the beat, our hips swaying in sync. The masks create a strange sense of anonymity even among friends, I feel bolder, less self-conscious than usual. I raise my arms above my head and let the music take over, closing my eyes briefly.
When I open them again, I catch a flash of something familiar across the room. A dull green X on each eye of a mask, the lower portion cut to expose the mouth. My heart stutters, then races. It’s him. My stalker. My masked man.
“You okay?” Mia asks, noticing my sudden stillness.
I nod, not trusting my voice. My eyes scan the crowd again, but he’s gone. Was he ever really there, or am I seeing what I want to see?
We dance for what feels like hours, pausing only to get more drinks. Several men approach, asking for dances, but we decline them all with polite smiles and firm nos.Tonight is for us, at least that’s what I tell myself as I continue to search the crowd for him.
As the night wears on, I begin to think I imagined him. The disappointment sits heavy in my stomach, souring the sweetness of the night. But then the music changes, shifting to a slower, more hypnotic beat. A voice cuts through the melody, “Stalker” by Stevie Howie. I freeze, the lyrics washing over me like a premonition.
And that’s when I feel it, a presence behind me, the subtle shift in the air that raises the hair on my arms. I turn slowly, already knowing who I’ll find.
He stands there in a perfectly tailored black suit, the mask with its green X’s covering the upper half of his face. His mouth, that mouth I’ve thought about for weeks, curves into a slight smile.
“May I have a word?” he asks, his voice carrying that same tone I remember from the bookstore, from my back steps, and the sushi bar. He gestures toward the stairs leading to the VIP section.
Mia grabs my arm, her fingers digging in slightly. “Lila,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “Is that...?”
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
“You don’t have to go,” Valerie says, stepping between us like a shield. “We can leave right now.”
“Did you request this song?” I ask him, ignoring my friends for the moment.
His smile widens slightly. “Yes.”
