Emily's POV
The bass thumped so loud I could feel it in my chest. Lights flickered, laughter echoed, and bodies moved in every direction. The club was alive, electric, like it had a pulse of its own.
Amanda grabbed my hand the moment we stepped inside. “Come on, Emily! Let’s show them how it’s done!”
She didn’t wait for an answer, already disappearing into the sea of dancers like it was her second home.
I smiled faintly, her energy infectious, and followed her into the crowd. Dylan trailed behind me, close enough that I could sense his presence.
“Mind if I join you two?” he shouted over the music.
Amanda winked. “As long as you can keep up!”
The three of us moved with the rhythm. Amanda, as always, was effortless and wild, spinning and laughing.
I danced beside her, feeling a little more relaxed, letting the music carry me. Dylan stayed behind me, his hands respectfully away, but I could feel his eyes on me.
After a few songs, the heat and the crowd became too much.
“I need a break,” I said, breathless, tapping Amanda’s arm. She nodded, still dancing.
I made my way to the bar and claimed a stool, motioning to the bartender. “Something cold, please.”
He slid a glass toward me. I took a sip, grateful for the chill that cut through the heat clinging to my skin. A few seconds later, Amanda flopped onto the stool next to mine, her face glowing with sweat and glee.
“So?” she asked, nudging me with her elbow.
“So, what?”
“What do you think of Dylan?”
I blinked at her. “Amanda… why would you bring him to my place when I told you I wasn’t interested?”
She shrugged, unapologetic. “Because I thought you would be once you saw him. Come on, Emily, he’s hot.”
I shook my head slowly.
“You don’t like him?” she asked, her tone rising with disbelief.
“It’s not about liking him,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I’m just… not ready for another relationship.”
Amanda snorted. “Liar.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I turned to her quickly, trying to read her expression. Did she know? Has she somehow figured it out?
But then she added, “You’re only saying that because you don’t find Dylan attractive enough.”
Relief washed over me, chased by a wave of guilt. She didn’t know. Not yet.
I looked down at my drink. I was supposed to tell her. I wanted to tell her. But how could I explain something that didn’t even have a name yet? What Adam and I had—it wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t defined. It was barely real.
Dylan appeared beside us, all easy smiles and cologne.
“Care for another dance?” he asked, eyes hopeful.
I offered a tight-lipped smile and shook my head. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Amanda caught the cue. “I’ll leave you two to chat,” she said, hopping off the stool and disappearing again into the crowd.
Dylan sat in her place, his leg brushing mine just slightly. “So, Emily, tell me about yourself.”
I gave him a noncommittal shrug. “Not much to tell. I work, I read, I dance occasionally.”
He leaned in slightly. “A woman of mystery. I like that.”
I looked away, unsure how to respond. The music blared around us, but the silence between us was heavier than it should’ve been.
“I think I need some fresh air,” I said abruptly, pushing off the stool.
But as I moved, my foot caught the edge of the stool’s leg. I stumbled, and Dylan caught me before I could fall.
His hands were firm on my waist, steadying me. Our faces were inches apart. I froze.
“Whoa,” he said softly. “Gotcha.”
And then, somehow, it happened. His lips brushed mine.
For a second, I didn’t move. But not because of him. Because in that exact moment, all I saw was Adam’s face. His eyes. His touch. My stomach twisted.
I jerked back, breath catching.
And then I saw him.
Adam.
Standing just a few feet away.
His expression wasn’t just angry, it was raw. Furious. Betrayed.
“Adam?” I almost breathed out.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. His eyes burned through me, then flicked to Dylan, who still had his hands on me.
I blinked, trying to convince myself I was hallucinating. But he was real. Flesh and blood. And now turning his back and walking away without a single word.
He vanished into the crowd.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Emily?” Dylan asked, confused. “Are you okay?”
“I need… I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, not really lying but not telling the truth either.
I bolted.
Out of the club, past the security, onto the street.
He couldn’t have gotten far.
I scanned the sidewalk, heart thundering in my ears.
Nothing.
I sniffed, blinking rapidly. A taxi slowed nearby and I raised my arm.
“Emily!”
I froze. It was Adam’s voice.
I turned slowly. Adam was walking toward me, his jaw clenched.
“How could you kiss him?” he demanded.
“I didn’t,” I said immediately with anger. He hadn't even spoken to me all day and here he was asking why I kissed someone. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Oh really? Because from where I stood, it looked like your lips were on his.”
I stepped back, anger bubbling beneath my skin. “So what? I’m a cheat now, is that it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Go on, then,” I snapped. “Think whatever you want.”
He reached for my arm, but I yanked it away.
I slid into the cab and slammed the door before he could say another word.