Chapter 30
Her
Loud music pounds through the club, the heavy bass so strong I feel it before I fully register the sound. It vibrates through the floor, through my shoes, through my ribs, settling deep inside my chest like something alive trying to shake me from the inside out.
For a moment I just stand there near the entrance, letting my eyes adjust to the flashing lights and shifting shadows, my senses struggling to catch up with everything at once.
Disco lights sweep across the room in bursts of color cutting through the darkness in sharp flashes that come and go so quickly they make the crowd look like moving snapshots instead of real people.
It is loud. Too loud. So loud that even my thoughts feel quieter than the music.
Al leans slightly toward me so I can hear him. "You okay?" He asks.
I nod, even though my senses are still catching up. "Yeah." I say, though my voice feels small compared to the sound around us.
He gives me a quick smile, like he knows I’m a little overwhelmed but also expects me to adjust. Then he gently guides me forward, his hand resting lightly near my elbow as he leads me through the crowd.
This is where he brought me tonight. A club.
Not just any club. A crowded one, full of people who look like they stepped straight out of glossy magazines or expensive advertisements.
His friends are already here, scattered across a section near the back, laughing loudly and talking like they own the place. Even from a distance, I can tell they belong to a different world than mine.
There’s a certain ease in the way they sit, the way they gesture, the way they hold themselves. Confidence that doesn’t come from personality alone. Confidence that comes from money, from status, from never having to question whether they belong somewhere.
As we get closer, I become more aware of my own clothes, my own posture, the way my hands hang slightly awkwardly at my sides. Al told me at least three times on the way here that I looked fine. That I looked beautiful, actually. I believed him in the car.
Standing here now, I’m not so sure.
The girls in his group wear dresses that catch the light every time they move, fabrics that shimmer like liquid. Their makeup is perfect, their hair styled effortlessly, their smiles bright and practiced.
The guys look just as polished with tailored shirts, expensive watches glinting when they lift their drinks, shoes so clean they reflect the colored lights from the ceiling.
I suddenly feel very aware of the small crease in my sleeve. Very aware of how tightly I’m holding my clutch. Very aware that I don’t know where to look.
Al doesn’t seem to notice any of that. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. He leads me straight to the private booth near the back where his friends are gathered.
The seating curves around a low table already covered in colorful drinks and small plates of snacks. The glasses glow under the shifting lights, bright pink, neon green, deep amber, like they belong in a display instead of someone’s hand.
I slide into the seat beside Al, trying to settle in without looking stiff. The leather is cool against my skin. The music feels louder here somehow, the bass stronger, like it’s pressing against my chest from all directions.
The dance floor stretches out in front of us, packed with bodies moving together in one shifting rhythm. People sway, jump, spin, laugh.
From this distance it looks almost like a single living thing instead of separate individuals, one giant wave of motion rolling under the lights.
The energy in the room is intense. Alive. Almost addictive. And despite the exhaustion still sitting in my bones from the past few days… despite the anxiety that hasn’t fully left my chest… a small part of me feels it. That pull. That dangerous pull to let go.
I rest my hands lightly on the table and glance around again, taking it all in more slowly this time. The lights. The music. The voices. The movement. The unfamiliar world I’ve stepped into for tonight.
One of the girls in the group keeps leaning toward Al. At first I barely notice it. The music is loud, the lights keep flashing, and everyone is talking over each other.
But after a minute it becomes impossible to ignore.
She shifts closer every few seconds, her shoulder brushing his, her fingers trailing lightly along his arm as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
Each time she laughs, she tilts toward him again, her hand finding his sleeve, his wrist, his shoulder.
Al pulls his arm back the first time without making a big deal out of it. The second time he shifts his body slightly away. The third time her hand slides across his forearm again and stays there a second longer than necessary.
His jaw tightens.
"Mona." He says, his tone flat, not playful.
She smiles at him anyway, slow and confident, like she thinks she is being charming. "What?" She says, her fingers still resting on his arm. "I missed you."
Al removes her hand and drops it back toward her side, not gently this time. "Yeah." He says sternly. "Don’t."
The word lands heavier than the music.
For a split second she looks surprised. Then she laughs it off like she thinks he is joking. "You’re always like this when you haven’t seen me in a while."
He doesn’t smile back.
"I said don’t." He repeats, this time quieter, sharper. Not loud enough for everyone to notice. Just loud enough for her.
The difference in his tone makes even me sit a little straighter.
Mona’s smile stiffens, but she doesn’t fully retreat. She leans back slightly instead, pouting in a way that looks practiced. "You’re no fun tonight." She mutters, though there’s still a teasing edge in her voice, like she expects him to soften any second.
He doesn’t. He reaches for his drink instead and takes a slow sip, his attention already somewhere else. The dismissal is clear. Final.
Mona presses her lips together, annoyed, but she turns her attention to someone else at the table, pretending she doesn’t care.
I glance at Al without meaning to. He looks completely relaxed, like nothing happened, like that moment never existed. When he notices me looking, he gives me a small shrug, casual, unbothered.
The music swells louder for a moment, the bass vibrating through the table.
One of the guys across from us, I don’t remember his name, reaches toward the tray of drinks and picks up a glass filled with something bright pink. He holds it out toward me.
"Here, Iris. Try this." He says. "House special."
I blink at the glass, then at him. "Oh! No, thank you. I don’t really drink much."
He lifts his brows like I just said something surprising. "Not at all?"
I shake my head slightly. "Not really."
A few voices speak at once.
"Come on, just one."
"It’s light, don’t worry."
"You can’t come to a place like this and not drink."
I shift slightly in my seat, feeling the attention turn toward me. Al looks at me then, not pushing, just watching my reaction.
"It’s okay if you don’t want to." He says.
But before I can answer, Tiffany leans forward with an encouraging smile. "It’s just one drink. We’re all here to relax. You’ve had a stressful week, right?"
I hesitate. They’re all looking at me. Not judging. Not pressuring exactly. Just waiting.
I glance down at the glass again. The liquid catches the light, shimmering faintly. It smells sweet, fruity, harmless.
"Okay." I say finally, reaching for it. "Just a few sips."
The glass is cool in my hand. I lift it slowly and take a cautious sip. Sweet. Then warmth spreads down my throat, stronger than I expected.
I swallow and blink. "Okay… that’s actually good."
A few of them grin like they’ve won something. I take another small sip. That’s when I notice someone approaching the table.
At first it’s just movement in the corner of my eye. A dark shape weaving through the crowd. My attention shifts without me meaning it to.
The person is wearing a hoodie. My breath catches instantly.
The world seems to narrow. The music fades into something dull and distant. My fingers tighten around the glass, my pulse jumping hard in my throat.
For a split second… Him.
The memory flashes sharp and fast in my mind. The mask. The stillness. The way he appears without sound. My body goes completely still.
The figure gets closer. Closer. My heart is pounding so loudly I can feel it in my ears.
Then he reaches the table… and pulls the hood down. Not him. Just a normal face. A guy. Smiling. Sound rushes back into my ears all at once.
"Justin! You made it!" One of the guys shouts, standing halfway to clap him on the shoulder.
Justin laughs and drops into the open seat beside the table. "Wouldn’t miss it." He says easily. "How’s everyone doing tonight?"
My grip on the glass loosens slowly. I force myself to breathe normally again, hoping no one noticed how stiff I went.
One of the guys leans toward Justin and murmurs something into his ear, his hand partly shielding his mouth. I can’t hear what he says over the music. Justin nods once.
Something passes quickly between their hands under the table. Small. Fast. Subtle enough that I almost think I imagined it.
Justin straightens and looks up. His gaze lands on me. It lingers for a while. Not just a glance. Not casual curiosity. His eyes move slowly over my face like he’s memorizing it, then drift lower for a second too long before returning to my eyes again.
A faint chill runs down my spine. I shift slightly in my seat without thinking, my fingers tightening around the glass again.
He’s still looking at me. Smiling.
Later, when the drinks have loosened everyone’s voices and half the group has drifted toward the dance floor, Justin slides into the booth beside me.
I don’t notice him at first. I’m watching the crowd, letting the music blur into the background, trying to stay calm in the middle of all the noise and flashing lights.