The music at the afterparty was bass-heavy and unforgiving, shaking the walls of the rooftop lounge like a heartbeat too big for its body.
Paris glowed below them, gold-lit and blurred, the Eiffel Tower a distant flicker behind the smoke and laser lights. Inside, the world was glammed-up chaos: velvet couches soaked with spilled drinks, drag queens in six-inch heels twirling through fog machines, laughter stretching into something just a little too sharp.
Eliana stood near the edge of the rooftop, clutching a sweating glass of something pink she hadn't touched. Her dress clung to her skin—silky, lilac, low-cut in a way she hadn't dared before. It was borrowed, and so was her confidence. Glitter flaked from her collarbones every time she shifted.
Renee danced a few feet away, radiant in a sequined bodysuit and heels that defied physics. She turned toward Eliana every so often, her smile dimming just a fraction.
