Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lina

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Sure."

My best friend Millicent's voice came through the phone, soft and full of concern. I could picture her exactly brows pinched together, lips pressed into that thin worried line she always made when she thought I was lying to her face.

She was good at reading me. She always had been.

"You don't sound okay," she said.

"I'm fine, Millie."

A pause. The kind that meant she wasn't convinced but was choosing to let it go.

She sounded guilty. I hated that. She had been looking forward to tonight all week,I could tell by the way she kept mentioning the restaurant, asking if the dress she bought looked right, sending me photos of her earrings side by side asking which one.

I had called her too late. And she already had plans. Dinner with her boyfriend. That wasn't something you cancelled because your friend was having a bad day and didn't want to say so.

"Okay," she said softly. "Take care of yourself. I'll call later to check on you."

"Don't worry about me." I forced a small laugh. It came out a little too hollow. "Enjoy your date."

"Text me when you get home."

"I will."

The call ended.

I kept the phone against my ear for a few seconds longer anyway, as if she might say something else. As if the silence on the other end was somehow better than the silence in the room.

Slowly, I lowered my hand to my lap.

The apartment was quiet. That specific kind of quiet that doesn't feel peaceful. The kind that presses in.

My mind drifted back to work. Back to earlier today. Back to him.

My supervisor had been making me uncomfortable for weeks now. At first I told myself I was imagining it. He stood too close, sure,but maybe that was just how he was. He brushed past me when there was clearly enough space but maybe he didn't notice. Those smiles, the ones that made something cold settle in my stomach maybe I was reading into it.

But today I couldn't explain it away anymore.

The memory surfaced before I could stop it.

The empty hallway. The way he had stepped in front of me. The smell of his cologne, too strong, too close. The way he had looked at me,like I didn't have a choice in the matter.

I pressed my palm flat against my stomach.

I knew I should report him. Anyone would say that. It was the logical thing to do.

But logic wasn't the thing keeping me quiet.

What if no one believed me? He had been with the company for years. He had friends in that building…real friends, people who went to his birthday dinners and laughed at his jokes. I had been there four months. I was an intern. I didn't even have a permanent desk.

The thought sat on my chest like something heavy.

I rubbed my forehead and let my head fall back against the couch cushion.

"Ugh."

The sound escaped before I could help it.

I stared at the ceiling. The small crack in the paint near the light fixture. I had been meaning to ask the landlord about that for two months.

Sitting here wasn't doing me any good. Thinking in circles wasn't helping. My mind needed somewhere else to go.

But where?

Millie was busy.

I didn't want to call my mother. She would worry, and then she would ask questions, and then I would spend the whole night making her feel better instead of myself.

The apartment felt smaller than usual. The walls weren't moving, obviously, but they felt like they were.

I grabbed my keys before I'd made a decision. My body just moved. Picked them up off the counter, slipped on my shoes at the door, and walked out into the night air.

The outside felt better immediately. Just slightly. Just enough.

I drove without really knowing where I was going. The city passed in slow pieces — streetlights, parked cars, a couple walking their dog. I wasn't paying attention. I was just moving.

My car slowed down on its own, it seemed.

Then it stopped.

I looked up.

A bar. A real one, not the kind attached to a restaurant. The kind with a glowing sign and a bouncer by the door and music you could feel from the sidewalk.

I sat there for a moment with my hands still on the wheel.

I had never been to a place like this alone. I had barely been to places like this at all. Loud rooms and strangers and bass you could feel in your back teeth — that was never really my idea of a good night.

But tonight I didn't want a good night.

I just wanted to stop thinking.

I grabbed my bag and got out of the car.

The music hit me the second the door opened. Heavy bass. The kind that gets into your ribs. I paused just inside the entrance and let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, the shifting colors from whatever lights were rigged above the dance floor.

People glanced at me.

I felt it immediately…that prickling awareness that I had worn the wrong thing. Most of the women around me were in short dresses, heels, makeup done up properly. I was standing there in a simple dress and flat shoes like I had just wandered over from a coffee shop.

Which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth.

I kept my chin up and scanned the room for somewhere to sit.

There — a spot at the counter.

Getting there meant crossing the dance floor. That was difficult for me. The floor was packed, bodies moving close together, the air thick with heat and perfume and spilled drinks. I squeezed through as carefully as I could. A sweaty arm grazed mine. Someone stepped back into my path without looking. A woman laughed right next to my ear,that sharp, surprised kind of laugh,and I flinched.

By the time I reached the counter and finally sat down, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"What can I get you, ma'am?"

The bartender was already looking at me, a small grin on his face like he had seen my whole journey across the room and found it mildly entertaining.

I sat on the stool and adjusted my dress out of habit.

"Something strong."

He nodded like he heard that at least a dozen times a night and turned to get started.

I watched the row of bottles behind the bar. So many colors. Amber, clear, deep red. The music kept thumping. Someone behind me was telling a story that kept getting louder. Laughter burst from somewhere to my left.

The drink arrived.

I lifted the glass and took a sip.

My face did something involuntary.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath. "This thing is strong."

My eyes watered. Just slightly. I set the glass down maybe a little too fast and it caught the edge of something and I grabbed for a tissue before the mess could spread.

"Very strong, huh?"

A voice.

Low. Unhurried. A little amused.

It came from somewhere just behind me.

My hand stilled on the tissue.

Something about that voice made the air in my lungs go still. I knew it. I was almost certain I knew it, but that couldn't be right, because the last I heard…

I turned slowly.

And my heart did something embarrassing.

Standing right there was Mick.

Millicent's cousin.

The same Mick I had been quietly, privately, thoroughly in love with since I was seventeen years old and did not plan to tell anyone ever.

He looked exactly like I remembered. Maybe better, which was unfair. His dark brown hair was pushed back, his jaw relaxed, his eyes catching the bar light in that way that made them look warmer than they had any right to. He was looking down at me with that small half-smile I had memorized without meaning to.

My brain went blank.

"Wha — what are you doing here?"

Perfect. Great opening. Very smooth.

My voice had cracked in the middle of it, which was a nice touch.

He smiled wider.

"Really? Not even a hug?"

He opened his arms.

Oh no.

I had imagined this. Not this specifically, not a bar at night with a strong drink and bad lighting  but this. Him, close, arms open. I had imagined it the way you imagine something you've decided will never happen, just to torture yourself a little.

And now it was actually happening and my body had forgotten every single normal thing about being a person.

I dropped my eyes for just a second.

His lips. Full. Slightly pink.

I looked away fast.

"You're — weren't you in Australia?" I managed.

"I was." He was still smiling. Still waiting.

I stepped forward before I could think about it too hard. His arms came around me and the warmth of it hit me all at once…the solid weight of his arm across my back, the smell of him, clean and faintly warm. My whole body went soft in a way I immediately tried to overrule.

I pulled away faster than was probably normal.

My eyes went to the floor.

Get it together.

"Why are you here?" he asked. His voice had shifted just slightly,not teasing now. Genuinely asking.

The question landed somewhere tender.

What was I supposed to say? My supervisor has been making me feel like I don't matter and I don't know who to tell and I got in my car and ended up here because I didn't know where else to go?

"I should be asking you that," I said, keeping my voice light, turning back to my seat.

He pulled out the stool beside me and sat down. I could still feel him looking at me.

"Since when do you come to bars?" he asked.

I exhaled quietly through my nose.

He wasn't going to let it go. He had that patient kind of stillness about him,the kind that meant he would just wait until you said the real thing.

"Just today," I said softly.

My finger found the rim of my glass and traced slow circles around it. The drink still smelled sharp and strong. My chest still felt tight from the day, from the memory, from everything I hadn't said out loud to anyone yet.

But somehow, with Mick sitting close enough that I could hear him breathe over the noise of the bar, the tightness shifted. Not gone. Just different.

Like maybe tonight didn't have to be as heavy as I thought it would be.