Chapter 3 Lila's Pov

At first, I told myself not to panic.

Jake was probably at the drinks table, laughing with someone and forgetting he was supposed to be back in the next one second. 

 The song had only just started. The lights had softened, the DJ letting the rhythm stretch, giving couples time to settle into each other. It made sense that he stepped away right before the dance. He had said one second. 

Well, people always said one second and meant something else.

So I should just wait. Right? RIGHT?

I shifted my weight and waited.

As I did so, I smiled faintly, still playing the part, still pretending this was all under control.

Drinks, I thought again. He’s just getting drinks.

I glanced toward the table. It was crowded, a knot of people pressing forward, plastic cups raised, faces flushed. I scanned for his dark hair, his jacket, that confident posture that had drawn my eyes earlier.

Nothing.

My stomach tightened in response.

Okay. Bathroom, then. Maybe, he became pressed and had to go to the restroom. Maybe…

I turned slightly, craning my neck toward the hallway, blinking against the flashing lights. People moved in and out but none of them were Jake. The music swelled, the singer’s voice low and aching, and suddenly the song felt too long, each second stretching until it pressed painfully against my ribs.

I checked my phone again, thumb hovering uselessly over the screen. 

No message. No missed call.

The realization crept in slowly, cruel in its patience.

He wasn’t coming back. He wasn't fucking comimb back. 

The thought landed heavy and undeniable, like the final line of a story you hoped would change if you reread it enough times. My throat tightened as my gaze swept the room once more, faster now, desperation sharpening my focus.

He’s not here.

The lie we built, so carefully signed and sealed, cracked in the middle of the dance floor.

And the whispers started.

At first, they were barely noticeable, just a change in the air, a shift in how people looked at me. A glance held too long. A smile that wasn’t friendly. I heard my name once, then again, carried on by voices that didn’t bother to lower themselves properly.

“Isn’t that the girl who came with—”

“Did he leave her?”

“Oh my God…”

My face burned. Heat rushed up my neck, into my cheeks, my ears, until I felt like the lights were trained solely on me. My heart stung sharply, pride tearing like thin paper because this was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. 

This moment. This image. Me standing alone while everyone else moved together like it was easy, like it was natural, like I was the only one who had missed some crucial instruction.

It was this very thing I had been trying to avoid when I contracted the idiot as my boyfriend.

And it had still happened…

I took a step back, then another, trying to edge toward the side of the room, toward any exit that would swallow me whole. The song seemed to slow further, every note stretching out in a cruel and deliberate manner. 

I could feel eyes on me now. I could feel the judgment, the curiosity, the quiet satisfaction of people watching a small, public unraveling.

My chest tightened painfully. I pressed my lips together, refusing to let my face crumple, refusing to give them the satisfaction of tears.

Just get out, I told myself. Just leave.

I turned sharply, intent on pushing through the nearest gap in the crowd, when a voice cut through the noise like it belonged there.

“Lila!”

I froze.

The sound of my name in that voice did something strange to me, something grounding and disarming all at once. I turned slowly, heart hammering, already knowing before my eyes confirmed it.

Ethan Reed stood a few steps away.

For a moment, the rest of the room blurred around him, lights and bodies and music fading into a dull hum. He looked different out here on the floor, less contained than he usually did, jacket shrugged off and hanging loosely over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly mussed like he’d run a hand through it one too many times.

His eyes were on me in a manner that was steady and intent like he’d been watching for a while.

I swallowed. “Ethan.”

We didn’t talk much. Not really. He was always there in the background of my life, Mason’s best friend, Ava’s brother, a constant presence who somehow stayed distant even when he was close. Polite. Quiet. Controlled. He wasn’t the kind of person who stepped into situations like this.

Which was why I didn’t expect what he did next.

He walked toward me, movements unhurried, confident, like the space between us was his to cross. The music swelled again, the chorus washing over the room, and people shifted instinctively, making way without realizing they were doing it.

He stopped in front of me and extended his hand.

“Come on,” he said, voice low but clear. “You don’t have to stand here alone.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

For a split second, I couldn’t move. My pride screamed at me to refuse, to laugh it off, to pretend I was waiting for someone, anyone. But my heart, bruised and aching, reached for the offer before my mind could catch up.

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, warm and firm, grounding me instantly. A murmur rippled through the nearby crowd, whispers becoming louder and I knew they were watching me but Ethan didn’t look at anyone else. 

His focus stayed on me as he guided me toward the center of the floor, into the space Jake had left empty.

The song wrapped around us, slow and deliberate, the kind that demanded closeness. Ethan’s hand settled at my waist, careful at first, like he was giving me room to pull away if I wanted to.

I didn’t.

My other hand rested on his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. He drew me in gradually, not rushing, letting the movement build naturally until the space between us disappeared.

The world seemed to exhale.

We moved together in a slow, steady rhythm, bodies aligning without effort. His grip was secure but gentle, guiding without forcing, and the simplicity of it made my chest ache. I could hear my own breathing, feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of soap and something unmistakably Ethan.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, unable to trust my voice.

His thumb brushed lightly against my side, a subtle reassurance that sent a shiver through me. The song stretched on, and with each passing second, something inside me softened, then cracked open entirely.

I felt seen.

Not in the way people had looked at me earlier, curious and judgmental, but in a way that made me feel real and present and chosen. Ethan’s attention didn’t waver. He didn’t rush. He didn’t pull away. He danced with me like there was nowhere else he needed to be.

My head tilted slightly, resting closer to his chest without conscious thought. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it anchored me in a way I didn’t have words for. The lights flashed overhead, casting shadows and color across his face, and for the first time, I noticed how expressive his eyes were, how much they seemed to say even when he didn’t speak.

“This song is soooo beautiful,” I murmured, half joking, half in awe.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

We swayed like that, unhurried and intentional, the rest of the room fading into the background. Time stretched, then slipped away entirely. I forgot about Jake. Forgot about the whispers. Forgot about why I’d been so afraid to come here in the first place.

All that existed was the way Ethan’s hand fit at my waist, the way he held me like it was natural, like it was inevitable.

When the song finally drew to a close, the last note lingering in the air, a reluctant groan rose from the crowd. Couples laughed softly, pulling apart, some staying close anyway.

Ethan didn’t move right away.

Neither did I.

Then applause broke out, scattered and enthusiastic. I turned around, sighing dreamily as I did so. 

That was when I saw Jake.

He stood at the edge of the floor, eyes dark, jaw tight as he watched us. His posture was rigid, possessive and as our gazes locked, something intensely dangerous shone across his face.

Before I could think of how to react to that, he pushed forward through the crowd and as he did so, his steps were quick and angry. A moment later, he sto

pped directly in front of Ethan.

“Leave her alone,” Jake said in a voice that was hard, unmistakably loud and filled with jealousy. “She is mine!”