ONE WILD NIGHT

My phone buzzed for the fourth time during my microeconomics lecture. Hospital. Again.

I slipped out of the back row, ignoring the professor's disapproving look. In the hallway, I answered with shaking hands.

"Maya Collins?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Patterson. I need you to come to the hospital immediately. Your mother's condition has taken a serious turn."

The world tilted. "How serious?"

"We need to discuss treatment options in person. How quickly can you get here?"

"I'm on my way."

I ran across campus to my dorm, my heart hammering against my ribs. Zoe was getting ready for her afternoon class when I burst through the door.

"I need to borrow your car," I said, grabbing my purse and keys to our room.

"Maya, what's wrong? You look”

"Mom's in the hospital. I have to go. Now."

Zoe tossed me her keys without hesitation. "Call me."

The drive to Hartford General took thirty minutes that felt like hours. I found Dr. Patterson in the oncology wing, his expression grave.

"Maya, sit down."

"Just tell me."

He pulled out a file. "The latest scans show significant progression. Your mother has maybe six months. There is one option an experimental treatment program, but..."

"But what?"

"The cost is two hundred thousand dollars. Insurance won't cover experimental procedures."

Two hundred thousand dollars. I stared at him, the number echoing in my head. I made maybe fifteen thousand a year between my tutoring and restaurant jobs, sending most of it home for bills and Jake's school expenses.

"There has to be something else. A payment plan, charity programs””

"I've already checked everything, Maya. I'm sorry."

I drove back to campus in a daze. Two hundred thousand dollars to save my mother's life. Impossible. But I had to try something.

That evening, I sat at my desk researching everything I could find. Emergency loans, fundraising ideas, selling everything we owned. Nothing came close to the amount we needed.

"You missed dinner again," Zoe said, returning from the dining hall with a container of food. "And you look like you're planning to tunnel through the earth with your bare hands."

"Two hundred thousand," I said without looking up from my laptop.

"What?"

"That's how much it costs to save my mom's life. Two hundred thousand dollars."

Zoe set down the food and sat on her bed, studying my face. "Maya..."

"Don't. Don't tell me it's impossible. I know it's impossible. But I have to try something."

"Okay. What's the plan?"

I laughed bitterly. "I don't have one. Work more hours? I'm already working every minute I'm not in class. Take out loans? I've been rejected by everyone. Sell my organs?"

"There's got to be another way."

"Like what? Rob a bank? Marry rich?" I slammed my laptop shut. "I'm out of options, Zoe."

Zoe was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You know what you need?"

"A miracle?"

"A break. One night where you're not Maya Collins, responsible daughter and sister. Just Maya."

"I don't have time for breaks."

"You don't have time not to take one. You're going to burn out completely, and then what happens to your family?" Zoe pulled out her phone. "There's this party tomorrow night at the Grandview Hotel. Some trust fund kids are hosting it."

"I can't afford hotel parties."

"You don't need money. Just show up and exist for three hours. Talk to people who don't need help with homework. Drink expensive wine someone else is paying for. Remember what it feels like to be young."

"Zoe”

"Maya, when's the last time you did something spontaneous? Something just for yourself?"

I thought about it. I couldn't remember.

"Never. The answer is never." Zoe stood up. "Which is exactly why you're coming with me tomorrow night."

"I have to work”

"I already called Romano's and told them you're sick. You're taking one night off whether you like it or not."

Part of me wanted to argue. The responsible part that had been running my life for three years. But another part, a part I'd buried under endless obligations, whispered that maybe she was right. Maybe I did need to remember what it felt like to just be twenty-two.

"I don't know how to party with rich people."

"You don't party with them. You just show up and let them pay for everything while you drink their champagne and pretend to be impressed by their trust funds."

I laughed despite everything. "You make it sound so appealing."

"Come on, Maya. One night. What's the worst that could happen?"

The next evening, I found myself in the back of an Uber wearing Zoe's black dress, heading toward the Grandview Hotel. The most expensive hotel in the city, where rooms cost more per night than I made in a month.

"You look beautiful," Zoe said, checking her lipstick in her compact mirror. "And terrified. Relax."

"I don't belong here."

"Nobody belongs anywhere until they decide they do."

The hotel lobby was all marble and crystal chandeliers. Young people in designer clothes moved through the space like they owned it, which they probably did. I felt like an imposter in borrowed clothes.

"Smile," Zoe whispered as we followed the crowd toward the elevators. "You're supposed to be having fun."

"I don't remember how."

"Fake it till you make it."

The party was on the top floor, and it was everything I'd expected from rich college students with unlimited budgets. Expensive champagne, catered food, and a view of the city that probably cost more than my entire education.

I grabbed a glass of champagne and found a corner where I could observe without participating. Everyone looked so confident, so sure of their place in the world. I envied them.

After an hour of small talk about spring break trips and summer internships at daddy's company, I needed air. I found a door that led to a rooftop balcony and stepped outside.

The city lights stretched out below me, beautiful and distant. For the first time in months, I was alone with my thoughts, away from responsibilities and pressure and the constant noise of other people's expectations.

"Not enjoying the party?"

I turned around, startled. A man stood in the doorway, tall and dark-haired, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my car. But his eyes looked tired, almost as tired as I felt.

"Not really my scene," I admitted.

"Mine either." He stepped onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. "I'm Alex."

"Maya."

He leaned against the railing beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. Expensive, but not overwhelming. "You look like someone with the weight of the world on your shoulders."

I laughed, surprised by his directness. "That obvious?"

"Takes one to know one." He smiled, and it transformed his entire face. "What's your story, Maya?"

For some reason, maybe because he was a stranger, maybe because the champagne had loosened my tongue, maybe because I was just so tired of carrying everything alone, I told him. About my mom, about Jake, about feeling trapped by responsibilities I never chose but couldn't abandon.

"What about you?" I asked when I finished. "What's weighing you down?"

His smile faded. "Family expectations. A life that's been planned out for me since birth. The feeling that I'm drowning in other people's dreams."

We talked for hours. About books we'd read, places we wanted to travel, dreams we'd given up. He listened like my words mattered, like I mattered. When I started crying about my mother, he didn't try to fix anything. He just handed me his jacket and let me fall apart.

"I should go," I said eventually, though I didn't want to leave.

"Should," he repeated. "But do you want to?"

I looked at him then, really looked. This beautiful stranger who'd listened to my problems without judging, who made me feel like maybe I deserved something good for once in my life.

"No," I whispered.

He stepped closer, his hand touching my cheek. "Then stay."

It was the first impulsive decision I'd made in years. And as he kissed me under the city lights, I let myself forget about everything else for just one night.