5. Butterflies Or Ants

Kelly's POV

It had been a while since I last saw him up on that balcony, and the brief, electric connection we shared felt like it was slipping away into the smoky air of the lounge.

Hope had come back to join me a few minutes ago, her bubbly personality a sharp contrast to the dark vibe of the club, but the uneasiness from the alleyway earlier that afternoon still hadn't fully faded from my system.

My eyes kept scanning the moving crowd, hoping to catch the handsome face I’d only seen for a few fleeting seconds, but there was no success.

“Still looking for Mr. Tall, dark, and intense?” Hope shouted beside me over the roaring thrum of the music, sipping her brandy and raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

I tried to laugh it off, taking a small sip of my melting ice. “I wasn’t looking for anyone, Hope.”

“Right, you were just scanning the room like you lost your child in a department store.” Hope snorted in laughter, leaning her elbow on the counter.

I couldn't help but smile, the tension in my shoulders loosening just a fraction. “My God, Hope. He looked like he belonged in another universe entirely.”

“Wow! then you should go find him and get yourself some, if you catch my drift,” she said with a teasing, mischievous smile on her face.

Before I could tell her how stupid that was, Hope’s eyes darted past my shoulder toward the middle of the lounge. She spotted a group of her friends waving enthusiastically from the edge of the crowded dance floor.

She squeezed my forearm gently, turning back to me. “I’m going to run over and say a quick hello to Sari and the girls. Are you going to be okay right here for a minute?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m fine right here,” I said, offering her a reassuring nod. Hope winked at me, turned on her heel, and instantly melted into the pulsing sea of well-dressed bodies, leaving me completely alone at the counter again.

I exhaled and turned back to the bar, as I traced a circle along the rim of my glass, trying to pretend I didn't feel eyes on me again, even though I couldn’t see anyone looking at me.

The feeling became a prickle on my skin, and as I was about to reach for my drink, a smooth voice spoke from right beside me. “Gin and tonic, right?”

I blinked and turned, he was there, standing right next to me, not across the room this time, but close.

I swallowed, as my mouth suddenly became dry. “You’re about to finish this one,” he said, placing a fresh glass in front of me. “I figured a refill was in order.”

His face was unsmiling, yet it wasn't cold, which was strange. His expression was controlled and calm, like a man used to observing, not chasing.

I eyed the drink, then him. “I can see that you’re observant,” I said cautiously. He shrugged lightly, one hand in his pocket. “I watch people.”

“That’s not creepy at all.” I said. A faint crinkle at the corners of his dark eyes was the only sign of a smile.

“It depends on who you’re watching.” I picked up the fresh glass he dropped beside me, my fingers trembling slightly. “And what exactly did you see?”

He tilted his head slightly. “A woman who doesn't want to be here...” My lips parted in surprise as I asked. “Who says I didn't want to be here?”

“I saw the way you held your purse like a shield when you first walked in,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The way you stood at the edge of the room, and how you've stuck to this bar ever since.”

I just stared at him, he wasn't just guessing, he had genuinely been watching me. I tried to turn the attention back to him.

“I could say the same about you, you don't look like you want to be here either.” He gave a slight nod. “I don’t like crowds.”

“Yet here you are.” I said, looking at him with an amused expression in my face. “Yet here I am,” he replied, smiling. We stood in silence for a moment, the music pounding all around us, and the crowd was a storm of movement.

But between us, it was completely still, my heart thudded in my chest. “What’s your name?” I asked, the question escaping before I could stop it.

He studied me for a moment, as if weighing the question. “Does it matter?” I raised a brow. “Depends, or are you a serial killer?”

He let out a short laugh. “If I were, I wouldn’t be wearing a suit this nice and I wouldn't tell you, would I?”

A smile finally broke through on my face, there was something comforting about the way he spoke and didn't overdo anything.

He gestured toward the dance floor. “You were dancing earlier with your friend.”

“Briefly.” I said. Wondering where he was going with the question. “You stopped.” he continued.

“I got thirsty.” I answered him. His gaze didn’t waver. “Do you want to go back out there?”

I hesitated, dancing with Hope was one thing, but with this man? In the middle of all these people? I was about to shake my head, but something inside stopped me.

A rush of being seen, of being wanted, a flash of the feeling I had when I was dancing just a few minutes ago.

“Just one dance,” I said quietly. He didn't smile, he simply offered me his hand, and I placed mine in it.

The crowd swallowed us, the music shifted to a deeper, heavier beat. My heels clicked lightly on the polished floor as he led me toward the center, and we moved without speaking.

His hand rested lightly on my waist, his other hand held my fingers, a gentle but firm guide. He didn’t crowd me, but he didn’t give me space either.

My breath grew shallow because every time my hips swayed, I felt his body tense. It was a subtle reaction, but I felt it, like he was restraining himself.

I glanced up at him, and he was already looking down at me, his gaze was sharp. It wasn't dangerous, but it almost looked like he was… hungry.

“Are you always this intense?” I asked, trying to break the tension. “Only when I’m paying attention.” he said, as he stared at me with so much intensity that my pulse fluttered in my throat.

We moved in silence again, the space between us almost closing.

Then the song slowed, melting into a breathless rhythm. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper against my ear. “Come with me.” My heart stuttered.