Chapter 2

“One more!” I called out, raising a hand before slumping back on the barstool, my balance barely holding.

The scotch burned in my throat, but it was the only thing numbing the firestorm in my chest. Eight months—eight whole months and he had been screwing someone else.

Stupid, right? Drinking myself into a blackout because of a cheating boyfriend? Maybe.

But pain didn’t ask for permission, and right now, this glass was the only thing that listened.

“Here you go.” The bartender slid another drink in front of me.

I gave him a weak smile and knocked it back in one go.

“Another,” I said, setting the empty glass down with a thud.

He blinked at me, hesitant. His mouth opened like he wanted to protest, but nothing came out.

“I said,” I lifted my hands theatrically, “another drink!”

He flinched slightly. “Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea to—”

I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and he fell silent.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.”

The voice came from my left. Low, calm, male. I turned.

A man sat on stool, tall and confident. Deep-set blue eyes studied me beneath thick brows, his chiseled face dusted with stubble. There was something in his gaze: curiosity, concern... and something else I couldn’t name.

“What do you want?” I asked flatly, not in the mood to entertain strangers.

He shrugged, casual. “Nothing. Just thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to.”

“And you think that someone is you?” I tilted my head, challenging.

A small, inviting smile curved his lips. “Only if you want it to be.”

I did. God, I did. But I wasn’t going to make this easy.

Letting my expression soften, I flashed a playful smile and dragged my gaze down his body - slow, deliberate.

“Dance with me, then.”

I half expected him to shake his head and walk away. Who volunteers to babysit a tipsy, emotionally unstable girl in heels and heartbreak?

But he didn’t hesitate.

“Of course.”

He rose, took my hand gently, and led me to the dance floor.

The beat of the music throbbed around us—bass deep, bodies pressed close. People swayed in drunken rhythm, lost in their own worlds of lust and alcohol.

We joined them.

At first, my movements were stiff. Awkward. I swayed too much, unsure whether I was dancing or just trying not to fall. Even drunk, I still had walls.

“Release your body,” he said, leaning close, his breath warm against my ear.

I looked up. Those blue eyes again—soft, steady. Daring me.

And something inside me let go.

I moved.

We moved.

Somewhere between the bass and the buzz in my head, I stopped caring how I looked, how I felt. I just let the music and the moment pull me under.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I hesitated, eyes flickering away.

But then it spilled out: how I’d walked in on Adrian today, how the clothes were scattered, how the sounds had confirmed everything. How I’d stood there like a fool.

“Was it my fault?” I asked, voice trembling despite the drink in my system.

“Did I push him away? Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and that silence stung more than I expected.

I searched his face for something, anything.

Judgment. Pity. Understanding.

But all I saw was calm.

And that scared me

“Of course not.” He finally said something, relieving the heaviness on my chest.

He leaned in until our foreheads touched. His eyes locked onto mine with a kind of intensity that made my breath hitch.

“I think...” His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing slow circles against the fabric of my dress. I felt it; heat curling in my stomach. God, I shouldn’t be feeling this. Not so soon.

“Your feelings are valid,” he said, voice steady but edged with something darker. “He’s a jerk for treating a girl like you that way.”

Then his fingers found my chin, tilting my face up toward him.

“Now...” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Forget about him. And do what you want.”

A swift pull back of his head before he whooshed me in his arms. The heat of his body soaked my skin as we danced. There was something. Something more. The way he looked at me with a hungry fire in his gaze, and the way I was drenched just by his stare. Hell. He wouldn't mind if I did this. I mean we both want it so yeah. It's going to be okay.

My hands curled into tight fists as I lifted my chin and smashed my lips against his. His grip on my chin tightened, but he kissed me back, rough, desperate like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. His arms wrapped around me, dragging me closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between our bodies. I could taste the heat of the alcohol on his tongue, but it only made me want more... more of this, of him.

The bar disappeared. The voices, the clinking glasses, the low hum of music ; all of it blurred behind the fire building in my chest.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, forehead pressed to mine, his thumb dragging across my lower lip like he was memorizing the shape.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, voice low and guttural.