CHAPTER 2

Cleo

He lifted the glass in his hand and took a slow sip of the amber liquid inside, his gaze fixed on me.

I let out a quiet scoff.

“You have no idea.”

He gave a small nod before turning his attention back to his drink.

That was it. No follow-up questions. No attempt to make conversation. I frowned slightly. Most people would’ve taken that as an invitation to keep talking. Instead, he simply… left me alone. 

I took a moment to study his features. His jet-black hair fell slightly over his forehead, looking intentionally messy. Broad shoulders stretched beneath a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. There was something intimidating about him, even though he looked completely relaxed. And annoyingly enough, he was ridiculously attractive.

"Checking me out?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I felt a surge of heat rush to my cheeks.

"What? No," I said a little too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, and I immediately turned my attention back to my drink, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat creeping into my cheeks. The alcohol buzzed warmly through my chest, making everything feel slightly slower around the edges.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, before I could stop myself...

“My boyfriend broke up with me.”

The man remained silent, as though waiting to see if I’d say more. I stared down at the amber liquid swirling inside my glass.

“Tonight. On our anniversary.” A humorless laugh escaped me. “Can you believe that?”

Saying it out loud made it feel real all over again. Something twisted painfully inside my chest, and I let out a quiet laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He remained quiet for a while before finally speaking.

"That's a terrible thing to do to someone. He sounds like an asshole."

That wasn't the response I'd expected, but it made me feel surprisingly better.

I looked away quickly. Why was I even talking to him? I didn't know his name. I didn't know anything about him. Yet somehow I was sitting here telling him things about my private life.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone. Besides, he was a stranger. I'd probably never see him again after tonight, so what was the harm?

"I must look pathetic. I mean..." I stared into the amber liquid swirling inside my glass. "Maybe this is my fault. Maybe I wasn't enough."

I laughed again, the sound cracking halfway through.

"Maybe I talked too much. Or maybe I didn't listen enough." I swallowed hard. "Maybe he got tired of me."

"Stop."

The word wasn't loud. But it was firm enough to make me look at him.

"Don't do that."

I frowned.

"Do what?"

"Blame yourself for someone else's decision."

"You don't know me."

"No, I don't."

"So how do you know I'm not the problem?"

He held my gaze for a long second before speaking.

"I just do," he said with a shrug.

I looked away.

"I should've seen it coming. I ignored every sign." I let out another shaky laugh. "I actually thought..." I shook my head. "God, I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. If anything, he's the idiot, and you deserve better," he said before taking another sip of his drink.

I couldn't help but smile at his words. It was strange how a complete stranger had managed to make me feel better in a few minutes than I had all evening.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The music pulsed through the room, vibrating beneath my feet as people laughed and danced around us. My eyes drifted back to him. He was still watching me. There was something frustratingly unreadable about him. He wasn't trying to flirt. He wasn't trying to impress me. He was simply... there. And for some reason, that felt strangely comforting.

My gaze drifted to his lips before I could stop it. God. He was attractive. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the loneliness clawing at my chest. Or maybe it was the way he'd looked at me all night without pity. Every sensible part of my brain screamed at me to look away. To finish my drink and leave. Instead, I heard myself whisper.

"I don't want to think anymore."

His expression softened, almost imperceptibly. The music around us seemed to fade beneath the pounding of my heartbeat. His gaze flickered briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. The tiny movement sent an unexpected shiver through me. Was I imagining this? I should stop. I should leave. I should be anywhere but here but my body didn't seem interested in listening. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I leaned forward. There was still time to stop. Still time for one of us to pull away. He didn't move. Neither did I. The space between us disappeared as my lips brushed against his. The moment lasted only a second. Long enough for reality to come crashing back. My eyes flew open, and I jerked back so quickly I nearly knocked over my glass.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

His expression mirrored my surprise. For a second, neither of us moved. Then something shifted in his eyes. Before I could retreat completely, he closed the distance between us and kissed me. This time, there was no hesitation. His hand came up to cup my cheek, warm against my skin, as though giving me one last chance to pull away. I didn't. Instead, I melted into the kiss, my fingers curling against the front of his shirt. The kiss lingered just long enough to steal the air from my lungs before he slowly pulled back. His forehead rested lightly against mine. When he spoke, his voice was lower than before.

"I think..." He exhaled softly. "...we should probably stop."

The rational part of me knew he was right. It was screaming that he was right. But tonight, I didn't want to be rational.

"I don't want to stop," I whispered.

Silence settled between us. Finally, he looked around the crowded club before meeting my eyes again.

"Then we should probably get out of here.”