4. Her Night

It was a short drive to the club. Sky rolled down the window to feel the wind whip her hair around her face. Mila sang loudly to whatever was playing, completely off-key but full of energy.

It is going to be a great night, Sky thought gleefully.

By the time they pulled up to the club, the low thump of bass could already be felt through the car doors. A line of people waited outside. The building glowed with red neon, the letters spelling out The Den, half-flickering.

Mila parked in the narrow lot behind the club, cutting the engine. “Okay, Princess Foster,” she said, turning toward Sky. “Moment of truth. What are you wearing under that hoodie?”

Sky grinned, pulling the zipper down slowly like it was a dramatic movie reveal. The hoodie fell away, and silver light caught every corner of the car.

Her dress shimmered like liquid metal. It clung to her curves, tiny sequins catching every flicker of streetlight. It was short…very short and the neckline dipped just enough to make it look expensive.

Mila gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my god. Is that the limited edition Vera Wang dress? It probably costs more than my entire house!”

Sky laughed. “Probably. Dad bought it for some charity gala thing. He never said I couldn’t repurpose it.”

“Repurpose?” Mila snorted. “You’re about to cause a car accident just walking to the door.”

Sky glanced down at herself in the side mirror, adjusting the straps. “It’s fine. I’ll behave.”

“You?” Mila said, raising a brow. “Behave? You just catfished your security guard with a fake love confession.”

Sky smirked. “That was strategy.”

“Right. Strategic chaos.” Mila shook her head. “I love you, but you’re gonna give me wrinkles.”

Sky kicked off her sneakers and dug into her bag, pulling out a pair of sparkling high heels. She slipped them on, balancing carefully before standing up straight. The difference was instant. She went from sneaky runaway to full-blown goddess.

Mila stared. “Okay, wow. I don’t even want to be seen next to you. People are gonna think I’m your assistant.”

Sky flipped her hair. “Then you’re getting a raise.”

They both burst out laughing.

When Sky stepped out of the car, the night air wrapped around her again, cooler now against her bare legs. She adjusted the hem of her dress. It barely reached mid-thigh, and she tossed the hoodie on the back seat.

“Ready?” Mila asked, looping her arm through Sky’s.

Sky took one last look up at the pulsing red neon sign. The bass beat through the pavement, matching the rhythm in her chest.

“Ready,” she said.

Time to have some fun.

Sky held her head high and walked toward the front door with confidence.

When they reached the front, the bouncer stepped forward. He was huge, built like someone who ate nails for breakfast and wore a black shirt that said STAFF in bold white letters. His expression flat.

“IDs,” he said, hand out.

Mila shot Sky a quick look.

Sky smiled sweetly, digging into her clutch. “Of course,” she said, like she totally belonged there. She slid out a small card and passed it over. Mila followed, trying to look calm.

The bouncer held both IDs under the red light, eyes flicking between the photos and their faces. Sky forced herself not to fidget.

Mila whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “You’re sweating.”

“I’m glowing,” Sky whispered back. “It’s different.”

The bouncer squinted. “You’re twenty-three?” he asked Sky slowly.

She smiled wider. “Do I look younger?”

He blinked, still staring at the card. Sky could practically hear her own heartbeat. Then, without a word, he handed both IDs back and jerked his chin toward the door.

“Don’t start any trouble,” he said.

“No promises,” Sky said before she could stop herself.

Mila elbowed her in the ribs. “Shut up,” she hissed, but she was grinning.

The bouncer sighed and waved them through. The door opened, spilling heat, light, and noise into the night.

They stepped inside, and it was like walking into another world.

The music was loud enough to vibrate through their ribs. Red and purple lights flashed over the dance floor. People moved in waves, laughing, shouting, spilling drinks.

Mila grabbed Sky’s hand. “We did it!” she yelled over the music.

Sky laughed. “I told you we would!”

Her adrenaline spiked, mixing with the bass and the chaos. She felt electric. Untouchable.

Mila dragged her toward the bar, shouting, “First round’s on me!”

Sky leaned close, her grin wide. “Something with color.”

As Mila flagged down the bartender, Sky turned to look around. Everyone was older, dressed sharper, louder. She didn’t care. The thrill of being somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be was enough.

She caught her reflection in the mirrored wall—silver dress glittering, hair wild from the wind, eyes shining with defiance. She smiled.

This was her night.

No guards. No rules. No Charlie.

Just Sky, free for the first time in her life.

Mila was busy arguing with the bartender about something involving glitter and fruit slices, so Sky leaned against the counter, sipping the drink that had magically appeared in front of her. It was sweet, fizzy, and probably stronger than it tasted.

“Having fun yet?”

The voice was smooth, low, and close enough to make her jump.

Sky turned to see a guy standing next to her. Early twenties, maybe. Tan skin, dark hair that curled a little at the edges, and a crooked smile. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing just enough collarbone to look effortless.

“Define fun,” she said, raising her glass.

He grinned. “You tell me. You’ve been standing here for five minutes, pretending not to look at the dance floor.”

Sky blinked. “I was observing. Big difference.”

“Right,” he said, nodding like he totally believed her. “Observing. Definitely not dying to dance.”

She crossed her arms, smirking. “And you’re definitely not using the oldest line in the book.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer, “but it works sometimes.”

He extended his hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”

Sky hesitated and looked at Mila.

Mila caught Sky’s look mid-sentence and wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, don’t look at me,” Mila said, grinning. “Do what you want.”

Sky rolled her eyes, but she could feel the corners of her mouth twitching. “Thanks girl, I’ll be right back,” she said.

“I’m Leo, by the way,” he said.

She took his hand. “Sky.”

“Pretty name,” he said, leading her toward the ,

dance floor.

He moved closer, his hand brushing hers.

“So,” he said over the music, “are you from around here?”

Sky turned her head, ready to answer with some teasing line about being “everywhere and nowhere,” but before the words left her mouth, a hand clamped around her wrist—firm, unyielding, and very, very familiar.

Her heart skipped.

“What the—?” she started, but the music swallowed her voice.

The hand tugged hard, pulling her out of Leo’s reach and through the thick crowd of bodies and flashing lights.

“Hey!” she snapped, twisting, but the grip only tightened. She tried to yank her arm free and froze when she finally saw who it was.

Charlie.

Her stomach dropped straight to the floor.