Alex is already there, dressed in a suit that fits him like it was made for him. Sharp lines, dark fabric, and effortless in a way that makes my stomach tighten for reasons I don’t want to elaborate too closely before we’ve even gotten out the door.
His eyes lift to mine and stop. For a second, he just looks at me. Really looks. His jaw goes slack, just slightly, like he didn’t expect this. Like he didn’t expectmelike this.
And I feel it, the shift. Not just attraction, though that’s definitely there, undeniable, and immediate. But something deeper, like awe maybe. And something softer too, threaded through it. Something that looks a lot like concern.
Like he remembers exactly where I was just a few nights ago.
“You clean up nice,” I say, barely able to keep my voice from cracking. Because I need to break the moment before it becomes something I can’t step away from. Or I lose control and spontaneously kiss him again.
He exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s pulling himself back together. “So do you.” His voice is rougher than usual, and suddenly I’m very aware of the space between us, and how much I want to make that space disappear.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say too strongly.
I’m not surprised to see the car outside since he’d texted me the other day that he’d have a car pick us up. Neither of our outfits would survive on his bike tonight anyway.
However, I was surprised to see he had a driver. “Dad offered. And it gives me the option to have a drink or two tonight,” he’d explained casually.
Sure, he just casually has a driver. I’m so out of my league here.
Sitting in the back of the vehicle beside him while he explains what to expect out of the night while a stranger drives us to the edge of town like I’m in an expensive taxi was… different. Made me feel like some kind of princess or diplomat. Not a regular city paramedic.
And then the surprise continues as we pull up in front of the manor. It’s overwhelming in the way only places like this can be.
We’re dropped off at the main door of what looks like a ballroom. Two story tall white stone pillars rise above up to the roof. Behind them are large windows showing the ballroom within.
As we step inside, the full scenery comes into view. Light spills from crystal chandeliers, catching on polished surfaces and turning everything into something just slightly unreal. Music drifts through the air. It’s soft, controlled, and perfectly measured. The hum of conversation blends into a constant background murmur. Glasses clink, laughter rises and falls, and everywhere I look, people move with an ease I don’t feel.
I’m just hyper-aware of everything; the way my heels sound against the floor, the way my dress shifts when I walk, the way people glance at me and then do a second take.
I feel like I don’t belong here.
“You okay?” Alex murmurs beside me, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“No,” I admit.
Honesty feels easier than pretending right now.
His hand settles lightly at the small of my back, not possessive or demanding, just there. A steady point of contact that keeps me from drifting too far into my own head.
“You’re doing fine,” he says.
“I feel like I’m going to break something.”
“You won’t.”
“You sound very confident about that.”
“I am.”
I glance up at him. “Why?”
His gaze meets mine, unwavering, and locks onto me. “Because you’re not the type to break under pressure.”
That settling somewhere beneath the surface where everything has been fragile lately. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that.
Before I can respond, the music shifts to something slower and softer, drawing people toward the dance floor.
