Glancing back at the table, I saw Caleb standing there, watching in our direction.Is he watching me?Sarah danced around him in circles, but his attention never wavered. The awareness of his gaze nestled low in my stomach, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
I’d only had three drinks, but they’d gone straight to my head and dulled the growing pain from my shoes. The colourful purple lights were starting to blur together. I let the rhythm take over, losing myself in movement, in heat, in the anonymity of bodies.
Before I knew it, Elle leaned in. “Almost 3 a.m.” Then she and Karl headed back toward the table.
I nodded vaguely, aware enough to know I shouldn’t trust my balance—or my judgment.
The music thudded through me, heavy and insistent, vibrating up through the soles of my feet. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift—just for a moment—when the air around me shifted.
I opened my eyes.
Two sweaty men had moved in close. One stepped directly in front of me, his grin loose and confident, blocking my view of the dance floor. The other slid in behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through my dress. The space I’d been dancing in—my small pocket of freedom—collapsed.
My stomach dropped, but I didn’t freeze. I tooka measured step back, already scanning for an exit, already calculating. I could handle this if I needed to. I’d handled worse.
There was just nowhere to go.
I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I shouldn’t have put myself in this position. But more than that—I didn’t want attention. I didn’t want raised voices, flashing phones, a moment clipped and posted and stripped of context. Going viral for the wrong reason wasn’t something I could afford.
“Hey,” the man in front said, leaning in far too close. His breath smelled like beer and something sour. “You look like you could use some company.”
I forced a polite, controlled smile and tried to slip sideways past him. His arm moved casually, blocking me again.
My pulse quickened, but my face stayed neutral.
The man behind me brushed my lower back. Not grabbing. Not yet. Just enough to test the line.
Every muscle in my body tensed. I angled my shoulders, preparing to push through if I had to, but the man behind me leaned closer, his chest pressing against my spine.
“I’m just dancing,” I said, my voice firm, carrying without tipping into a scene.
The man in front chuckled. “So are we.”
The lights blurred at the edges. The noise dulled. Awareness settled in—the instinct that I was being sized up, weighed, and decided on.
And then?—
The man behind me shifted closer.
And suddenly the pressure vanished.
An arm slid around my back. Firm. Certain. Unmistakably not theirs.
I sucked in a breath, startled.
A solid presence stepped in behind me, close enough that my shoulders brushed his chest.
Caleb.
He placed himself between the man behind me and me. His hand stayed at my back, not pushing, not pulling, justthere, anchoring me.
“I’ve got her,” Caleb said, calm and low.
Relief hit me fast and all at once.
The man in front bristled. “We were just talking.”
Caleb leaned in a fraction, his presence suddenly immense.
