Drinking water under his unwavering gaze felt like the most difficult thing I had done all night.
I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass and raised it slowly, trying not to show how much his eyes unsettled me. But they didn't waver_ not once. Not even as the cool liquid slid down my throat and my pulse throbbed in my ears. It felt like I was being stripped open silently, like he could see through every layer of confidence I had tried to wear like armor tonight.
And as I took the final sip, setting the glass back on the counter, he finally spoke.
"Are you here to seek thrill, pr just to sit around while watching your friend enjoy?"" he asked, his voice smooth, lazy_but somehow razor-sharp,
I blinked.
His words slid into my chest like velvet laced with thorns. A question dressed like a challenge. There was something dangerous about the way he said it. The quiet confidence. The way his lips curled just enough to let me know he already suspected the answer.
I didn't want to give him too much. So I tilted my head slightly, let the corners of my mouth lift into something halfway between a smile and a shrug.
"I guess I'm still deciding."
His eyes didn't leave mine. "Are you?"
Before I could respond, he tilted his head slightly, studying me like he already knew too much. "What's your name?"
I hesitated for the briefest second.
"…Lyra," I answered, careful to keep my tone light.
He nodded slowly, like the name tasted familiar in his mouth.
When I returned the question, "And you?", he leaned back in his seat, a shadow of amusement glinting in his dark eyes.
"I think it might be best for you not know my name." he said smoothly.
I frowned. "That's not very fair."
"You didn't ask for fair," he replied, and for the first time, I caught a real smile _sharp, fleeting, addictive.
I didn't like that it made something flutter in my chest.
The bartender returned, his presence barely noticed between the two of us, and the man_this stranger cloaked in ink and sin _gestured toward my empty glass.
"More water?"
I shook my head.
I hadn't come here to sit at the counter all night nursing glasses of water under the gaze of a man I couldn't stop looking at.
No. I had come here to live. To break the rules carved into my skin by years of quiet obedience.
"I should dance," I murmured more to myself than to him, already sliding off the stool and gathering my purse. That's what I had come here for.
But as I turned to move toward the dance floor, his hand came down lightly over mine.
The touch was like fire and ice. Sudden and Unavoidable.
I stilled, and for a second, I couldn't breath.
His fingers were cool against mine, firm but not aggressive. The weight of it settled over me like smoke. My heart stuttered, fluttering wildly in my chest.
I looked down at his hand, then up into his face.
His expression hadn't changed. Still calm. Still unreadable. But his gaze burned hotter now, like embers stirred by wind.
"You don't look like someone who enjoys noise," he said, voice lower this time. Almost intimate.
I swallowed. My skin prickled.
"You don't know me," I whispered.
"I don't have to," he replied. "You've been here less than an hour, and you've already tried to run from your own decision."
I didn't like that he was right.
I didn't like that he could see straight through me while I still didn't know his name.
And I really didn't like the way my body responded to the simple weight of his hand over mine.
My lips parted, ready to respond _to pull away, maybe _but nothing came out.
I didn't know if I wanted to move.
Or if I wanted him to pull me closer.
"Why don't we step outside?" he suggested, his voice just low enough to brush against my skin like a touch. "It's peaceful there."
I looked at him, narrowing my eyes slightly, suspicion curling at the back of my mind.
I may have never partied before, but I wasn't oblivious to how nights like these worked. I'd heard the stories_ the drinks, the charm, the promises that always led somewhere darker.
He met my gaze evenly, then tilted his head toward the empty glass balcony in the VIP section _isolated, glowing faintly under soft golden light, overlooking the sparkling sprawl of the city.
Something about the way he offered it… so calm, so certain… made it hard to say no.
If I was going to drop my inhibitions, then why not now?
I nodded. "Okay."
He simply walked beside me and led the way, his pace slow and confident. He opened the door for me and let me pass through first, the sudden rush of cool night air brushing over my bare shoulders.
And just as he said_ it was peaceful.
The music faded into a soft throb behind the glass. Out here, it felt like a different world entirely. The city sparkled beneath us like a blanket of stars, the wind carrying the scent of something faintly sweet and sharp. I walked to the edge, letting my hands rest lightly on the cool metal railing, trying to steady the fluttering in my chest.
Behind me, he lingered, silent.
"You don't dress like you came here to party," I said, glancing at him over my shoulder.
He moved beside me, hands slipping casually into his pockets. The way the lights hit his face _cutting shadows across his jaw and the curve of his cheekbone_made him look both elegant and untouchable.
"I was here to meet someone." He responded. His gaze falling on the city view ahead of us.
I raised a brow. "A date?"
"No." His lips curved faintly. "Business."
I turned to face him fully. "In a club?"
He shrugged, that faint smile still lingering. "Yes."
"You can go back to the party, I wouldn't want to spoil your fun." I murmured.
He met my eyes. "I'm not interested, with all the noise.."
I nodded slowly, his words settling over me.
"That makes two of us," I whispered.
He didn't answer right away. He just watched me for a second longer than was polite _his eyes roaming my face, lingering at my mouth, then falling to my collarbone.
"I figured," he said at last. "You don't move like someone who belongs to places like this."
The silence returned between us, this time thick with something I couldn't quite name.
He stepped just a little closer. Not enough to crowd me. Just enough to be felt.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, lightly, like he'd done it without thinking _but the gesture sent a shiver down my spine. His touch was warm, slow, and deliberate, and it made my lips part in the faintest breath.
He didn't touch me again. Not right away. But he stayed close enough that I could smell his cologne_dark spice and something almost citrus beneath it. His voice dropped, rougher now.
"You should let your hair down when you're around strangers," he murmured.
My brows lifted. "Why?"
His eyes flicked down to the curve of my neck. "Too distracting."
My breath hitched.
I turned away, clutching the railing again_mostly to ground myself, because everything in me felt weightless.
And then his fingers touched my back. Just a light graze. His knuckles brushed the bare skin between the straps of my dress as he leaned in ever so slightly behind me. His voice tickled against my ear.
"It's too distracting that I can't help but wonder how it would feel tangled around my fingers."
I swallowed hard, the metal railing cool under my grip, my pulse hot beneath my skin.