Chapter Five

The front door clicked open, and I heard the familiar jangle of keys.

“Arabella? I—”

He stopped. Just... stopped.

“Holy shit.”

Elias blinked at me from the hallway, Backpack still slung over one shoulder.

There was a full second of silence.

Then, deadpan:

“…Did I walk into the wrong apartment?”

I turned toward him slowly.

He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. “Nope. Still you. But what the hell?”

“Okay,” he said slowly, pointing a finger. “Who are You, and what have you done with my antisocial sister?”

Elias’s mouth opened. Then closed. then opened again. “You?”

I nodded.

“Like, outside? In that?”

“In this,” I said, doing a slow half-turn like I was on a catwalk — awkwardly, I turned slightly, showing off the glittering heels I was still learning to walk in. “She’s on vacation.”

He blinked again. “Why do you look like a Bond girl who just got divorced and is about to ruin her ex’s life?”

Rhea cackled.

“Is that a compliment or a warning?” I asked.

He squinted at me. “You look like you belong on the cover of a perfume ad called Mystery.”

Rhea snorted from the doorway. “I told you. Total makeover moment.”

“You didn’t make her, you conjured her,” Elias said. “Arabella, you look—” he waved a hand vaguely, “—

“She’s coming with me to one,” Rhea said proudly.

He blinked again. “Wait… you’re actually going out?”

I nodded.

“Voluntarily?”

“She’s evolving,” Rhea stage-whispered. “Like a Pokémon. But hotter.”

Elias narrowed his eyes at me. “You feeling okay?”

I laughed. “Do I look like I’m sick?”

“Don’t be weird,” I muttered.

“I’m not being weird. I’m being honest. You look—” he gestured vaguely at my body, “—like someone who gets free drinks without asking.”

“She will,” Rhea said, applying one last swipe of gloss to her bottom lip. “Tonight, we don’t pay for anything.”

Rhea nudged me.

Elias just shook his head and collapsed onto the couch. “Okay, listen. Just because you look like a Bond girl tonight doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

“Relax,” I said, grabbing my jacket. “I’m going to have fun. Not start a war.”

He pointed a warning finger. “If you break hearts, I expect a full report.”

“Noted.”

“And if some guy tries anything—”

“—you’ll fight him with your black belt in internet tutorials,” I finished, laughing.

“Exactly.”

Rhea's phone buzzed, and I watched her swipe her screen like she was casting a spell. "Ride’s on the way. Ten minutes."

"You’re not allowed to back out now," she said, slipping on her strappy heels."

I rolled my eyes but smiled.

Elias had already headed to bed, earbuds in, hoodie up,

Rhea held the door open with a grin. “Come on, heartbreak girl. The city’s waiting.”

And just like that, I stepped out into the night — heels clicking, adrenaline rising — wondering who I might become by morning.

The car pulled up — sleek, black, humming low like it was part of the night. Rhea slid in first, pulling me beside her before I could change my mind.

"No regrets tonight, Bella," she whispered, tapping the driver’s seat. "To Velvet."

"Velvet?"

"Only the hottest club this side of the city. Get ready to sin, sweetheart."

The ride pulsed with soft music — some remix of a song I half-knew. Rhea was fixing her lipstick in the mirror while I stared out the window, heart ticking faster with every block we passed.

"You nervous?"

"More like... electrically anxious."

"That’s because your body's catching up with the moment. It’s time you flirted."

"Is that one of your poetry lines or your therapy sessions talking?"

"Both," she grinned.

By the time we pulled up to Velvet, the street outside throbbed with life. Neon lights, thick velvet ropes, people dressed like temptation itself. Laughter curled into the air, laced with perfume and smoke.

The bass was already seeping through the pavement.

Rhea grabbed my hand. "You ready?"

"No."

"Perfect."

We skipped the line — Rhea knew the bouncer. A wink, a nod, and we were swept inside like secrets into a diary.

Velvet was a cathedral of sound. Lights rippled across the ceiling like waves. The dance floor heaved with bodies — glistening, grinding, Lost in rhythm. Music thundered like a heartbeat, bass so deep it rearranged your thoughts.

I held onto Rhea’s hand like a lifeline as she dragged me through the crowd.

"Bar first, then bodies," she shouted over the music.

We ordered drinks. Something pink, dangerous, and deceptively sweet.

"Drink, Bella. Loosen those hips. Or at least your morals."

I sipped. My lips tingled.

Before I could say anything, someone brushed past me. Male. Tall. Smelled like sandalwood and wickedness.

He turned, eyes catching mine. Smirk. Lingering glance.

Rhea elbowed me. "Girl. That man just undressed you in 0.2 seconds. Say something."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Blink. Breathe. Ask him what cologne he’s wearing, and then ask him to ruin your lipstick."

I laughed, giddy. This was insane. But I felt... alive.

The guy came back. Asked me to dance. I hesitated. Rhea shoved me. Literally.

So I danced.

His hands found my hips like he owned them. Confident. Slow. Like he already knew what I liked. The bass throbbed beneath our feet, but his touch throbbed harder.

I wasn’t drunk, not really. Just... warm. Liquid. My skin hummed like something electric. His palm slid down to the small of my back, anchoring me to him.

“You got a name?” he asked, his mouth dangerously close to my ear.

“Maybe,” I teased.

He chuckled. Low. Deep. Fuck-me-in-a-corner sexy.

“I’m Jay,” he offered, breath brushing my neck.

“Arabella.”

He tasted the syllables with a smirk. “Arabella,” he repeated, slower this time. “Gorgeous name. Fits the way you move.”

I wasn’t even moving that well. I just swayed. Let the music pulse through me while his hands roamed like they were mapping skin for science.

He leaned in again. “You always dance like this with strangers?”

“Only when they smell like bad decisions.”

Jay grinned. “Best kind.”

His hand slid higher, skimming beneath the hem of Rhea’s borrowed dress. My breath caught, but I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him.

Rhea caught my eye from across the floor. Raised her drink and winked like a proud mother hen watching her chick finally hatch into sin.

Jay’s fingers dipped low. My hips rolled to meet him, shameless. He pressed his forehead to mine.

I turned my head again — just enough to see across the room — and froze.

Rhea.

God, Rhea.

She was farther back, half-draped in shadows, and yet she commanded the space like a queen. Her body was straddled over some guy’s lap — tall, inked arms braced on either side of her thighs. Her dress was bunched high on her hips, exposing miles of skin. The man beneath her looked starved — like she’d broken him open just to feast on.

Then she slid off him.

Down to her knees.

Right there.

On the grimy, sticky floor of that club, with lights flashing and bodies grinding and the smell of vodka and bad decisions clinging to everything.

My breath hitched.

Rhea’s glossy mouth wrapped around him like it was nothing. No hesitation. No shame. Just heat and hunger, and hell yes, I’m doing this written across her body language. Her nails scraped his stomach. Her hair spilled wild down her back.

no-one cared.

And Rhea? She didn’t even blink.

She was glorious.

My lips parted — part gasp, part disbelief — and then she glanced up. Eyes locking on mine.

She smirked.

And winked.

Like she was telling me: This is what freedom looks like, babe. Catch up.