Chapter 2 ✨Lyra

Parking has never been a problem when you step out with serena. Being VIP has its privileges.

The valet takes the car as we climb down, heels hitting the pavement with confidence we didn’t arrive with but somehow always find once the night starts. Ethanol & Vibe glows ahead of us; our regular spot, familiar and loud even from outside. Lucas had oversped on the way, so we pause, waiting for Zoe and Lavi to catch up.

I smooth my dress instinctively, inhaling once, grounding myself. No overthinking. Not tonight.

The dress is a backless, V-neck black number that barely qualifies as clothing. It stops right under my butt, half my stomach exposed, nothing but rope hugging my body in all the right places. It clings, accentuates, announces me before I speak. I look good. I know that but knowing and believing are two different things.

Serena stands beside me, giggling, glowing, wearing confidence like it was stitched into her skin. At 6’2, tall and slim with a model’s posture, she commands space without trying. I’m 5’4, caramel-skinned, all curves…big boobs, thick thighs, round hips. Different bodies, different energies, but somehow we balance each other perfectly.

We’ve been friends since our first year in university; first as hostel roommates, then roommates off campus in a tiny rented apartment we could barely afford. Always joined at the hips. Always choosing each other. serena has been my constant, my safe place, my person.

The only time life ever separated us was after graduation. She moved to Chicago to chase modeling seriously, and I stayed back, settling into a quieter life as a web designer at a tech firm. Different cities. Different dreams. Same bond.

So when she came back this year, I felt whole again. She’d made a name for herself now—runways, campaigns, recognition. She could work from anywhere. And she chose to come back home. To me.

“Down to earth, Lyra,” serena says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blink and realize I’ve drifted again. Everyone is already moving, already ready.

“Sorry—what did you say?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside,” she repeats, amused.

A grin spreads across my face, excitement bubbling up suddenly.

“Yesssss!”

We pass the bouncers and step into the club just as Splash by Tyga comes on. The music hits first, hard and loud followed by flashing colored lights that momentarily disorient me. I squint, adjusting, but relief washes over me when we’re immediately directed to our reserved VIP spot. The lighting is dim not VVIP dim but just right.

My body wants to move already, but I know myself. I need a drink first. Or two.

We settle in and place our regular order: a few bottles of Rémy Martin Louis XIII, followed by tequila shots with orange slices and cinnamon to start things off properly.

“I hope you’re not planning on sitting down and people-watching,” serena shouts into my ear.

I shout back, laughing, “Girl, you know the deal.”

Together, we scream our mantra, “Shots first, morals later!” giggling like teenagers who know exactly what kind of night they’re inviting.

As if on cue, the shots arrive. We cheer, clink glasses, and down them together. Warmth spreads through my chest almost immediately, loosening something inside me. My body finds the rhythm of the music without effort. We talk about nothing and everything all at once, laughing too hard, especially at Zoe and her ongoing war with song lyrics.

The Louis XIII bottles are served, glasses refilled generously. By my third drink, Cardi B’s WAP starts playing.

That’s it. No discussion needed.

We rush to the dance floor, bodies moving instinctively, grinding and vibing while the men stay back at the table. The DJ is in his element, feeding the crowd exactly what it wants. We’re screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs, completely unbothered.

“I feel like someone’s watching me,” I squeal into serena’s ear.

“Girl, ignore it,” she squeals back.

So I do. I let go. I dance harder.

Eventually, the heat and the alcohol catch up to us, and we retreat to our spot to breathe. My girls immediately gravitate back to their men, locking lips shamelessly.

Ugh.

I sip my cognac instead, scanning the room absentmindedly. That’s when I notice him, a guy whose eyes move over me slowly, deliberately, like I’m something he’s already decided he wants.

I roll my eyes and look away.

We head back to the dance floor not long after. Lucas excuses himself to handle something, and Lavi pulls Zoe with him. serena and I stay together. Then Aphrodite by Rini comes on, and the mood shifts. Slower. Heavier. We sway, grind, laugh, still feeling that stare on me—but I’m too buzzed to care.

Soon, my legs start protesting. I lean into serena and excuse myself.

On my way back to the table, the same guy steps in front of me.

“Hey sexy, wanna join my table?” he says.

“No, sorry. I’m with my friends,” I reply, trying to walk past him.

He grabs my hand. “I’ll treat you nice. You’ll enjoy every inch of me.”

Something sharp flashes through me. I yank my hand free.

“Nigga, I ain’t interested.”

He reaches for me again—but thank heaven, Lucas appears just then. The guy freezes, then backs off immediately.

“You okay?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a breath. “I just need to use the restroom, touch up, and rest my legs.”

“Aight. I’mma go join my girl,” he replies, walking off.

I grab my purse and wobble toward the restroom, heels clicking unevenly against the floor.

Just as I reach the door, I bump into someone—hard enough that I nearly lose my balance. I don’t fall though. I’m caught immediately, his hand firm on my lower back, steadying me. And for a split second, my drunk mind betrays me completely, wishing that hand would slide just a little lower… just enough.

What keeps me clinging a second longer isn’t the grip…it’s his cologne.

God. He smells so good.

He straightens me gently as I fumble for my purse that slipped from my hand, my movements slower than they should be.

“Let me get that for you,” he says.

His voice, though—deep. Smooth. Dangerous.

The kind that sends a quiet shiver through me, settling low in my stomach before I can stop it.

“Thanks,” I reply, but the voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like mine; soft, breathy, unfamiliar.

First thing first, though- I need to see if the face matches the voice.

Because I think… I’m already invested.