High Spirit

Ava glanced down at herself from head to toe. The white heels hugged her fair, slender feet perfectly, but the dress—it made her uncomfortable. Her thighs were too exposed, and she kept tugging the hem down with nervous fingers. When she looked up, Hazel was beaming at her.

Hazel, now dressed in Ava’s casual baddie jeans and white sneakers, sleeves rolled up, grinned as if she were admiring a work of art. “You look stunning, Ava. If I were a guy, I would’ve asked you out ages ago.”

The dress hugged Ava’s curves so well, anyone would think Hazel had taken her along when she bought it.

Ava curled her lips in dissatisfaction. “It’s too short, Hazel. I can’t wear this.”

She tugged at the neckline where the fabric dipped—not low enough to show cleavage, but enough to make her self-conscious. Hazel frowned and gently slapped her hands away.

“Don’t be a baby, Ava. This is exactly how most girls dress in college. You better start getting used to it.” Her tone was firm, brooking no argument. She turned to grab her purse off the bed.

Ava pressed her lips together and fell silent. She knew better than to argue. Hazel was as stubborn as they came.

A moment later, Hazel slung the chain of a purse across Ava’s shoulder with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, go check yourself in the mirror.”

Careful in her heels, Ava stepped toward the mirror. No makeup, her big blonde curls swept over one shoulder, and that elegant, flattering dress… she couldn’t deny it. A small, fulfilled smile crept across her face.

She turned toward Hazel. “Thank you. Really.”

Hazel gave her a graceful nod. “It’s okay, babe. Now come on, let’s go.”

Just as they reached the door, it flew open. Charlotte stood there in tight jean shorts, a white tank top, and pale pink thigh-high boots. Her makeup was heavy and bold.

Hazel folded her arms. “What’s with the raccoon eyes, Charlotte? Trying a new look?”

Ava bit her lip to stifle a chuckle. Hazel always said what Ava was too afraid to.

Charlotte, oddly in a good mood, ignored the jab. “You guys ready?”

Hazel didn’t answer. She grabbed Ava by the wrist and breezed past Charlotte. As they passed, Charlotte threw Ava a cold look that made her instantly glance away.

In the car, Ava sat up front with Hazel while Charlotte took the back seat. As soon as Hazel started the engine, she cranked up the stereo—Nicki Minaj’s voice filled the air.

“I wish today it will rain all day, maybe that’ll kinda make the pain go away…”

Hazel and Charlotte rapped along in sync, and Ava just smiled, watching the trees fly past the window. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the moment felt full—like a life she hadn’t known she needed. It was her first time going to a night party.

She remembered how Cole used to invite her to parties, and how she always said no. Not because she didn’t want to go—but because her parents would never allow her. Maybe that’s why he broke up with her. What guy wanted a girlfriend who couldn’t go out?

A lump caught in her throat. Maybe she hadn’t been exciting enough. Maybe love hadn’t been enough. She had been ready to give him everything—especially the one thing she swore would only go to someone special.

The car slowed and stopped. Wiping a tear quickly, Ava straightened before Hazel could notice.

Outside the club, laughter and chatter floated in the air. People loitered in small groups, dressed in bold colors and even bolder clothes. Hazel locked the car and took Ava’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

Ava followed, Charlotte tagging behind. She could feel eyes on her—men staring, their gazes shameless. Hazel had been right about how girls dressed. Ava blended right in.

Inside, music pulsed like a heartbeat through the walls. The lights were dim and dizzying. It took a second for Ava’s eyes to adjust. Hazel spotted an empty booth and made a beeline for it.

Charlotte wandered off the moment they sat down, calling out a name as she vanished into the crowd.

“Such a bitch,” Hazel muttered, signaling a bartender.

Ava said nothing, her eyes tracking Charlotte’s path through the room.

What she didn’t know was that someone else had been tracking her.

In the VIP corner, far from the crowd and almost hidden in shadow, a man sat alone. Ruthless brown eyes had been following Ava since the second she walked in. He twirled a marble ball in his fingers like he was weighing fate.

Zachary Gonzalez.

The dim lighting kept his presence unnoticed, but he saw everything. His gaze didn’t waver once—not even when the manager approached nervously.

“M-Mr. Gonzalez,” the man stuttered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Where’s your boss?” Zac asked, eyes still locked on Ava. His voice was soft. Dangerous.

“He’s… out of the country, sir.”

“Get me my usual.”

The man scampered off, soon returning with a glass of wine.

“Pour it.”

With trembling hands, the manager did as instructed, then hesitated—curious about what had captured Zac’s full attention.

“You can leave.”

The manager vanished.

Zac lifted the wine glass, breathed in the rich aroma. Still watching her.

Back on the floor, Ava had already downed two cocktails. Hazel had disappeared into the crowd, and with the music thumping and the lights swirling, Ava felt a rush of freedom. It bubbled up fast, overtaking her nerves.

Suddenly, she got to her feet.

She started to dance—slowly, awkwardly at first, but then more fluid, more natural. Her hips swayed, her hands lifted slightly, and a soft smile broke across her face.

At that moment, she wasn’t Ava Taylor from a toxic home. She wasn’t someone’s burden or heartbreak.

She was just a girl swaying to the beat—daring to be seen.