The night outside the club smelled like cigarette smoke and rain. The alley was dimly lit, the hum of bass from inside rattling the metal door behind them. Barbie folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep the cold from slipping into her skin, but mostly trying to keep her emotions locked down.
Mark stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, shoulders tight. He looked out of place here—like he always did—but somehow even more tonight. His jaw was set, his eyes glinting under the yellow streetlight.
Barbie broke the silence first, her voice sharp.
"Why are you here, Mark?"
He turned his head, slow and deliberate. "Why do you think?"
"I don't know," she snapped. "That's why I'm asking."
He took a step closer, his eyes searching her face. "Why have you been ignoring me for a week? You disappear, no calls, no texts. I thought we were cool, Barbie. I thought we had a relationship. What happened?"
