Chapter 5
Hadley
We pulled up to Eclipse, the club's neon sign pulsing blue and purple against the night sky.
Bouncers waved us through a side door without a word, leading us up a private staircase to the VIP lounge…
plush black couches arranged in a semi-circle, low purple lights casting shadows, a private bar gleaming with crystal glasses.
Music thumped through the floor from downstairs, vibrating up my legs.
We ordered whiskey neat for the boys, vodka sodas for Sydney and Zariah. I asked for a gin and tonic. Light. Safe. Something to sip slow.
Sydney slid onto the couch next to Cal, her thigh pressed right up against his, like personal space wasn't a thing. "You killed it tonight. That last note? Chills. Literal chills. You always know how to end on a high."
He grunted, noncommittal, and took a long pull from his glass, his eyes distant.
She kept talking anyway, her hand resting on his arm now, fingers tracing lazy circles. Laughing too loud at nothing in particular, leaning in close to whisper something I couldn't hear. He didn't pull away, but he didn't engage either, just nodded once, twice, his focus on the drink in his hand.
Holland stood up suddenly, offering Zariah his hand with a grin. "Dance floor? I need to move after that show."
She grinned back, taking his hand. "Thought you'd never ask. Let's see if you still got those moves."
They disappeared down the stairs, laughing as they went.
Through the glass railing overlooking the main floor, I could see them, bodies close, moving like they'd done it a thousand times before.
His hands on her waist, guiding her through the crowd.
Her head thrown back laughing at something he said.
History. Clear as day, the kind that made me wonder just how deep their "childhood friends" story went.
Kei sat next to me on the couch, filling the space Zariah had left. Quiet at first, just sipping his drink. Then, "You okay? You look a little lost in the noise."
I looked at him. Really looked. Dark eyes that seemed to see more than most, a calm face with no hidden motives, just genuine curiosity.
"Yeah. Just... loud. All of it. The club, the people."
He nodded; like he got it completely. "It gets overwhelming. Especially after a show. The adrenaline crashes, and suddenly everything's too much."
We talked. Easy stuff at first, Vegas traffic being a nightmare, the worst shows they'd ever played (some dive bar in Ohio where the power cut out mid-song), how he learned guitar from scratchy YouTube videos at fourteen, sitting in his room for hours until his fingers bled.
Then it went deeper, natural like breathing.
He asked about my job without judgment. I told him the truth: dancing at the club to pay bills, cleaning houses on the side, taking care of my brother full-time.
"He's autistic," I said, staring into my glass. "Thirteen. Loves trains more than people. He can watch videos of them for hours, memorizing routes and schedules like it's nothing."
Kei smiled slightly, warm. "Sounds like a good kid. Focused. I was like that with music…obsessed. It's a strength, you know?"
"He is. The best. Keeps me grounded."
I didn't realize how many drinks I'd had until the room tilted a little, the edges softening.
My gin and tonic were gone. Another one appeared in my hand; someone must have ordered a round.
Then shots, tequila, clear and sharp, someone yelling "To Vegas!
" as we clinked glasses. It burned clean down my throat, warming my chest, loosening my tongue.
I laughed louder than I meant to at one of Kei's stories about a fan sneaking backstage dressed as a pizza delivery guy. He laughed with me, his eyes crinkling.
He was eventually dragged to dance floor by a random girl leaving me alone again.
Then Cal was there.
Sydney had dragged him to the dance floor earlier, her hand tugging his insistently. He'd come back alone now, dropping onto the couch on my other side. Close. Too close. His shoulder brushed mine, and he smelled like leather and whiskey and something smoky, dark.
"Hey," he said. Voice low. Rough, like gravel under tires.
"Hey."
"You're quiet."
"So are you."
He looked at me, really looked, his hazel eyes catching the purple light and holding it. "You like the show?"
"Loved it. Your voice... it's something else."
"Good."
His knee brushed mine. Stayed there, pressing lightly. I didn't move away. Didn't want to.
We talked. Or tried, our words slurring a little around the edges from the drinks. He asked about my brother out of nowhere because apparently, he heard Kei and I talk. I told him about Eli's straight lawn lines, how he'd mow the same patch over and over until it was perfect, no blade out of place.
He laughed, real laugh, surprised and low. "That's dedication. Wish I had that for songwriting sometimes."
"You're different," he said after a pause, his voice dropping.
"Different how?"
"Not screaming. Not grabbing. Just... real."
I shrugged, feeling the heat from his body next to mine. "Not my style. I don't chase."
He leaned closer. Breath warm on my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "I like that. A lot."
His fingers found my wrist. Light. Testing, tracing the pulse there. My skin didn't crawl like it usually did with strangers. It... warmed, sparked.
I didn't stop him. Couldn't, even if I'd wanted to.
We kissed.
Slow at first, tentative, his lips soft against mine. Then deeper, his tongue slipping in, tasting like whiskey and want. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. Mine pressed to his chest, feeling his heart slamming under my palm, fast and unsteady.
He pulled back just enough, his forehead against mine. "You're the prettiest girl here. In this whole damn city."
I laughed. Drunk. Stupid, the sound bubbling out. "You're drunk."
"So are you."
He kissed me again. Harder this time, urgent, like he couldn't get enough.
"I wanna marry you," he murmured against my mouth, his words slurred but serious in that hazy way alcohol makes everything feel.
I froze for a second. Then laughed again, breathless. "You're insane. We just met."
"Come on." He stood, pulled me up with him. The world spun, lights blurring. "Bathroom. Now. Need you."
We stumbled down a dim hall, past closed doors and muffled music. Found an empty one. Locked it behind us. Inside...marble counters, dim lights casting long shadows, bass still thumping through the walls like a heartbeat.
He kissed me against the sink, rough and hungry. Hands under my shirt, skimming my skin, sending sparks everywhere. Then down, unzipping, kneeling in front of me. Mouth on me. Slow. Worshipful, his tongue exploring, teasing.
"Fuck, you taste good," he groaned against me, voice vibrating. "So fucking perfect. Like you were made for this."
I gripped the counter hard, knuckles white. Legs shaking, knees weak. Head spinning from the drinks, from him.
He stood after, kissed me again. Deep. I tasted myself on his tongue, salty and intimate.
"I wanna take you somewhere," he said, breath ragged.
"Where?"
"Somewhere we can make this real. You and me."
I didn't think. Just nodded, the alcohol buzzing in my veins, making everything feel possible.
We left the club, slipping out a back door. Limo waiting curbside. Driver didn't blink, just opened the door like this was normal.
Chapel next. Some cheesy place with a neon sign flickering "24/7 Weddings," hearts and rings glowing pink. Elvis impersonator inside, sequined jumpsuit and all, crooning a half-assed "Can't Help Falling in Love."
Cheap rings from a vending machine, thin gold bands, tiny fake diamonds that caught the fluorescent light.
We laughed the whole time, giggles turning to hiccups.
Said yes in slurred vows.
Signed papers with shaky hands.
Rings on fingers, cold metal sliding into place.
Married.
Just like that.