37. Chapter 32
Hot Mess
T he Pearl was packed to the ceiling, the music thumping against the old walls like it did every weekend. Evin stood at the bar, her gaze scanning the room as she took everything in. A mix of nervous anticipation and a strange thrill coursed through her—one she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Tonight was hers. No hiding. No shame. She was done being passive, done letting the past dictate her every move.
“Four tequilas,” she said, her voice light, carefree. The glasses clinked against the counter as the bartender set them down. Evin reached for the first one.
Milka shot her a skeptical glance. “Four? That’s a strong start.”
Evin laughed. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Why not?”
She licked the salt off the back of her hand, raised the first shot, and clinked it against Milka’s. “Lick, drink, bite,” she said with a playful wink before tossing the shot back in one go, finishing it off with a bite of lemon.
The burn of the alcohol spread warmly down her throat, settling in her stomach like a slow fire.
She felt alive. Unburdened. Free from the thoughts that had weighed her down for weeks.
Maybe if it burned enough, it would drown out everything else—just for tonight.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the second glass and repeated the ritual—salt, shot, lemon.
This felt right. Tonight was hers.
Mil ka eyed her from the side, then grabbed her own second shot. “You’re really going for it tonight,” she remarked, this time with a grin.
Evin shrugged, setting her glass down. “We’re going all in.”
The music pulsed through her, vibrating in her bones as she lost herself in the rhythm on the dance floor.
She closed her eyes, hands gliding through the air, surrendering to the moment.
No past. No worries. Just the music wrapping around her, the intoxicating rush of freedom flooding her veins.
Her legs felt weightless, her body moving as if it was meant for this.
But then she opened her eyes—and the sight hit her like a punch to the gut.
Right across from her, in the VIP section, sat Sergej.
He lounged lazily on one of the sofas, hands resting on his knees, his face stretched into a smug grin.
Evin's heart seized, freezing in her chest.
A violent wave of nausea crashed over her, wiping away the high in an instant. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like she could shake him out of her mind.
And then—he was gone.
Or rather, he had never been there at all.
It wasn’t Sergej.
Evin remained silent, her throat tight and words lost.
Instead, she reached for Milka’s hand, gripping it with a fierce intensity that was impossible to ignore.
Just a flicker of tension in her fingers, but Milka sensed it immediately. She didn’t ask questions, just followed instinctively, keeping her hand firmly entwined with Evin’s as they fled the dance floor and headed back to the bar.
Evin's legs felt like lead. The crushing pressure on her chest made every breath a struggle.
“Sorry—false alarm,” she said quietly, her voice wavering slightly. “Thought I saw Sergej for a second.”
Milka’s head snapped toward her instantly, eyes wide with alarm. "Wait —Sergej? Are you sure?"
Evin shook her head quickly. "No, no... just someone who looked like him."
Milka’s jaw tightened visibly, her gaze darting through the crowd as if she needed her own confirmation. "Fuck, Ev. Don't scare me like that."
Evin reached for another shot, her hands slightly unsteady now, and downed it in one go, desperate for the burn to drown out her racing thoughts.
The tequila burned its way down, drowning out the nausea for just a moment. Replacing it with warmth. With fire.
As she lowered the glass, her eyes landed on someone else. Someone familiar.
Bas.
He moved past her with his friends, slow, almost in slow motion. His hair was slightly tousled as always, loose strands falling over his forehead. Those icy blue eyes stared straight ahead. His laughter sent a familiar shiver down her spine, intensifying the nausea in her stomach.
He wore fitted jeans and a tight polo shirt that hugged his athletic build. Broad shoulders, muscles subtly outlined beneath the fabric, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. It was the way he moved—effortless, with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.
Thank God he didn’t see me...
“Here.” Milka slid another shot toward her, her eyes flicking between Evin and Bas. “You’re gonna need it.”
Evin grabbed the shot and knocked it back without hesitation. The alcohol sent warmth flooding through her again, dulling her thoughts just enough to let her breathe.
“You know what?” Milka turned to her, holding up her own glass. “Fuck the drama. Tonight is ours. No guys, no problems. Just fun.”
Evin laughed. Yes . That was exactly what she needed. She didn’t want to think about Bas. Or Sergej. Not tonight. She nodded, and together, they raised their final shots before slamming the empty glasses onto the counter.
“Come on!” Evin grabbed Milka’s hand, and the two of them stormed back onto the dance floor, laughing.
The music enveloped them completely, a tidal wave of sound that drew them in and refused to let go.
Multicolored lights spun around them, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on their skin.
The alcohol coursed warmly through her veins, softening the edges of the room into an exhilarating blur.
Every sway and step became a natural extension of her body, as if she were made of liquid, moving with effortless grace.
Evin's laughter erupted, a sound she hadn't heard in such a raw form for months.
The usual burdens weighing down her shoulders evaporated, her mind clear of cluttered thoughts. There was only this moment—her, the music, and the electrifying rush of unrestrained freedom.
It was just them, the music, and the euphoric numbness of surrender.
But then—as if she should have seen it coming—Bas was suddenly there.
That familiar tension snapped into place the moment their eyes met.
The air between them thickened, like a force field closing in, and for a second, it felt like she was the only one at this party who could still see him.
His gaze brushed over her, slow, like a quiet fire burning beneath the surface. And in her slightly drunken state, she realized—she wasn’t going to be able to react as controlled as she usually did.
That damn smirk. The one that made her furious and made her want to laugh at the same time. It played at the corners of his lips, teasing, daring.
Like he could just smile, and she’d fall back into place.
Like she was still his.
Then he stepped toward her. Just one step—but it was enough.
Enough to make her pulse spike.
Enough to make her want to run and kiss him at the same time.
The arrogance of it sparked something inside her.
She wasn’t going to let him think it was that easy.
Without thinking, she raised a finger and waved it playfully in front of his face, her eyes flashing with a mix of mischief and just a hint of provocation.
Bas watched her with that expression she knew all too well—like he could see right through her, like he knew exactly what she was doing. His eyes n arrowed slightly, that smirk still lingering, and something about it made her want to laugh.
She liked it. This tiny moment of control. Even if it was fleeting.
“No way,” she laughed, shaking her head once more before abruptly turning away from him.
Every smile felt like a mask, something to hide behind. It was easier to play with him than to let him see how broken she really was.
She leaned in toward Milka, her lips right at her ear. “I’m heading to the bar for a sec. Need a break.”
Milka nodded, letting her go without question, still moving to the music.
Evin took a deep breath as she made her way through the crowd, pushing past dancing bodies. The heat of Bas’s gaze still clung to her, and she knew she had almost let herself get pulled into something she wasn’t ready for.
Would she ever be ready again?
Pushing through the crowd, Evin finally reached the bar. The clinking of glasses, the chatter around her—all of it blurred into a distant hum.
She needed a drink. Something to push everything else away.
“One vodka energy, please.”
She leaned against the counter, running a hand through her hair as she exhaled sharply. Her pulse was still racing.
The bartender slid the drink toward her. She grabbed it, stared at the glass—then hesitated.
What the hell am I doing?
She had come here to feel something. To escape. To prove that she was still in control. But now, staring down at her drink in her hand, she wasn’t sure what this even was anymore.
This wasn’t who she used to be.
It wasn’t who she wanted to be.
Evin clung to the bar with one arm, as if trying to find something solid in a world that kept spinning around her. Her fingers tightened around the glass, the warmth of the alcohol pulsing in her head, but inside, a fire raged, threatening to crush her.
She raised the glass to her lips—then suddenly stopped.
A hand on her shoulder.
She flinched, turning around—only to find herself staring into Bas’s breathtaking eyes.
His smile was slightly crooked, as always, and that playful spark in his gaze—it was still there.
She had missed it. More than she wanted to admit.
"Looks like that glass is getting more attention than me," he teased lightly.
"At least it would listen," she muttered.
Had she just said that out loud?
"Ouch," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. His tone was teasing, but something else lingered underneath.
Luckily, nothing ever seemed to throw him off.
"Maybe I can be a good listener, too."
With that, he leaned against the bar next to her.
Dryly, Evin shot back, "You only hear what you want to hear."
Bas tilted his head slightly, considering.
"Hmm, maybe," he admitted. "But I’m good at seeing things others don’t."
Evin felt her heart skip—just for a second. She tried to stay calm, tried to keep her expression unreadable.