ZARA'S POV
Zara twirled the straw in her glass of iced vanilla latte, her freshly painted nails tapping rhythmically against the rim. She sat at the farthest corner of "Ivy's Place," the campus café run by a retired model turned barista and the one place that offered decent cinnamon rolls with a side of privacy.
Ivy slid into the seat opposite her, a loose braid slung over her shoulder and sunglasses pushed to her forehead. "Okay, you called me here like the world was on fire. What happened? Tell me everything."
Zara raised one brow, lips curling into a dangerous smirk. "You know that guy I met at Ember Lounge the other night?"
"The one you ditched me for halfway into the night?" Ivy said, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, how could I forget?"
"I didn't ditch you." Zara grinned. "I upgraded."
Ivy narrowed her eyes. "Oh no. No, Zara. What did you do?"
"I let him take me home."
"Girl…" Ivy leaned forward. "Don't tell me you just gave it up to some random guy because he smelled like expensive sin."
Zara chuckled and leaned back, letting the memory wash over her. "He wasn't random. His name's Liam. Tall, ridiculously hot, smooth voice that makes your knees shiver. But girl... that man—" she paused for dramatic effect, "—knows how to ruin a woman."
"Oh, you're insane." Ivy sat back, arms crossed. "Don't even tell me it was good. I don't want to know."
"No, Ivy, listen to me." Zara gripped the edge of the table. "It wasn't just good. It was insane. I've never—ever—felt like that before."
Ivy stared at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"You remember how I told you I thought I'd never squirt?" Zara said, eyes dancing. "Well, guess what? He proved me wrong. Completely. Girl... I wasn't ready."
Ivy's jaw dropped. "Zara!"
"I'm serious," she said, leaning in. "He handled me like he had my manual. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world at that moment... Ivy, it was like I was melting and combusting at the same time. Every stroke was calculated. Deep. Urgent. My God."
"You need to calm down," Ivy whispered, her face flushing red even as she tried to stay composed. "This is broad daylight."
Zara ignored her. "You didn't see the way he owned the moment. I didn't even know I could make some of the sounds I made. At some point, I said please like a damn movie character."
"You begged?"
"Begged," Zara nodded proudly. "He had me out of breath, trembling, legs shaking like a leaf. It was like... he had something to prove. And he proved it. To my soul."
Ivy groaned and covered her face. "This is the worst coffee date I've ever been on."
Zara laughed. "Stop being dramatic. You asked."
"I asked how your night went, not for a dissertation on Liam's sexual prowess."
Zara sighed dreamily. "I want to see him again."
"Zara," Ivy said, voice dead serious. "You had a one-night stand. With a stranger. That doesn't mean you're in love."
"I'm not saying I'm in love," Zara said, twirling her straw again. "I'm saying... I want more. He awakened something in me."
"Girl, he probably doesn't even remember your name."
Zara blinked. "He did. He whispered it more than once."
Ivy groaned. "He whispered it while doing unholy things to you. That doesn't mean he wants anything more."
"But what if he does?" Zara leaned forward, eyes glowing. "What if that night meant something to him, too?"
"Zara," Ivy leaned in too. "You are planning to go after a man who probably views you as a notch on his bedpost just because he's good in bed?"
"He wasn't just good," Zara said, voice soft. "He was... intimate. Gentle but passionate. Focused. And... there was something in his eyes. Like he was hurting. Like he was searching for something too."
Ivy shook her head. "That's dangerous. You're romanticizing a one-night stand. Men like that—especially if they're that good—know exactly what they're doing. And usually, they don't come back."
Zara looked away, suddenly serious. "I get it. But you didn't feel what I felt. And you didn't see the way he looked at me. I know it sounds crazy, but it didn't feel cheap. It felt... real."
Ivy bit her bottom lip. "You're hoping he feels the same."
Zara met her eyes. "I know it's a long shot. But if I see him again, I want to know. I want to find out."
Ivy's voice softened. "Okay. But promise me something?"
"Anything."
"If it turns out he is the type who just sleeps around, don't go falling to pieces. You're not made to be someone's leftover craving."
Zara smiled faintly. "I'm not. But I don't think I was leftovers to him. I think I was something he needed."
"You're hopeless."
"I'm hopeful," Zara corrected.
A silence settled between them for a moment as Ivy looked at her friend's face. The glow, the intensity, the certainty—Zara was clearly smitten. Whether it was temporary or not, it was real to her.
"You're seriously going to try and find him?"
Zara picked up her phone and opened the notes app. She'd written down the name on the card he left beside the bed: Liam Hunter.
She showed it to Ivy.
"I will find him," she said confidently. "And when I do... Liam Hunter is going to be mine."
Ivy shook her head, smiling despite herself. "You're insane."
"Insanely determined."
"Fine. But you're dragging me into this madness."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
LIAM ALONE IN HIS APARTMENT
Liam stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, the city lights blinking like fading memories. He rolled the glass of whiskey between his fingers, still shirtless, his skin marked faintly by nails that didn't belong to the woman he truly wanted.
Zara had been wild — uninhibited, loud, responsive. She knew how to ride a moment, and God, she had made him forget everything for a while. Her moans still echoed in the quiet of his apartment, her scent lingering faintly on his sheets.
But none of it mattered now.
Because when he closed his eyes… it wasn't Zara he saw.
It was Mia.
Mia, with her nervous smile, her soft laugh, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was trying to hide something. Mia — his best friend's girl. His off-limits temptation. The only woman who had actually gotten under his skin.
And yet, Zara had been a good distraction. A damn good one.
He chuckled dryly and took another sip of his whiskey.
"I wouldn't mind one more night," he muttered to himself, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She can take it."
But that was all it was — sex. A way to numb the ache of wanting what he couldn't have.
He set the glass down, jaw tightening.
He needed to get Mia out of his head.
But somehow, everything he did — every distraction, every escape — only made him crave her more.
And the worst part?
She had no idea.