Selena had been in the bathroom for hours. She wasn't crying. She wasn't moving. She was just… sitting. On the closed toilet lid, her knees pulled together, her hands resting limply in her lap. The light buzzed overhead. The air was thick with steam from the shower she never turned on. Everything around her felt foggy and sharp all at once. Like her body had gone on pause while her mind spiraled somewhere far away. In the mirror across from her, she didn't see herself. Just a shell. Just a woman in a pale blouse with empty eyes. A woman who couldn't understand how the person she loved most had casually cracked open the world they'd built for over a decade.
"Open marriage," Peter had said over dinner, like he was offering to repaint the living room.
Selena's mind replayed that moment in pieces. The way his fork twirled pasta while he told her. The way he wouldn't look her in the eye. The way her stomach flipped, then fell, then felt like it had vanished completely.
A dull knock at the door pulled her back to the surface.
"Selena?" Peter's voice was tentative. Hesitant. "Are you okay in there?"
She didn't answer.
Another knock. Then another. They started out spaced. Gentle, patient. But they grew faster. Louder. More panicked.
"Selena, come on. It's been two hours."
She didn't move. She just looking at her reflection in the mirror.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he tried again. "You don't have to say anything. Just come out."
Still, nothing.
His voice lowered, almost a whisper. "We don't have to talk about it anymore. You can pretend I never said anything. Just… please, come out."
He must've knocked over a hundred times by now.
Then, suddenly, she stood.
Silent.
She opened the door and walked past him, her steps steady. Her face was unreadable.
Peter blinked. "Selena?"
But she didn't respond. She went straight to the wardrobe, her eyes scanning rows of neutral dresses and soft knits until she found the one piece she'd never worn.
The red mini dress.
She grabbed it, turned back into the bathroom, and shut the door behind her.
Peter's voice followed. "Selena, what are you doing?"
She didn't answer.
Inside, she pulled off her clothes like they were suffocating her. The dress slid on like fire; tight, bold, angry. She brushed her hair, not caring if it was perfect. She painted her lips scarlet, swiped gold across her lids. Her hands didn't shake.
Peter kept talking, apologizing, and backpedaling.
She kept ignoring.
When she emerged, she was someone else. Or maybe not someone else. Maybe someone who'd been buried deep inside all along.
Her gold stilettos clicked against the floor. She grabbed a red clutch and her keys.
"Selena, please," Peter begged, stepping toward her. "Don't go."
She didn't even glance at him. She walked out. The drive felt like floating underwater. No music. No thoughts. Just the streetlights passing by in blinks, and her hands clenched around the steering wheel. She didn't remember deciding to go to Blitz. Her body had driven there without her. The club's neon sign blared like a heart monitor flatlining. She hadn't stepped into a club in eight years. It had always felt too loud, too messy. She liked quiet places; coffee shops, bookstores, intimate wine bars. The chaos of nightlife never suited her introverted heart.
But tonight, she needed noise. She needed something louder than her thoughts.
Inside, the beat throbbed through the air like a pulse. The music hit her chest like a wave. People danced in flashing lights, grinding, laughing, and shouting. No one noticed her.
Perfect. Just like she wanted.
Selena made her way to the bar and slid onto a high stool.
The bartender glanced her way.
"Two Aunt Roberta, please," she said, her voice steady.
His brows lifted. A bold choice. The strongest mix on the menu. He didn't ask if she was sure, but the look in his eyes said everything.
Selena stared straight ahead, but before her drink arrived, a familiar voice floated up behind her.
"Two Aunt Roberta?"
She turned slowly.
And there he was. Jack, her brother's best friend. His smile was lazy, amused, but his eyes flicked over her with concern. "Didn't think that was your drink of choice."
She blinked, disoriented. "Jack?"
"In the flesh." He slid into the seat beside her, his cologne drifting close, rich and warm, like amber and spice. "Didn't expect to see you here, especially not ordering suicide in a glass."
Selena tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach. "Guess tonight's full of surprises."
Jack watched her. Closely. "What are you doing here, Sele? You hate clubs."
The bartender placed her drinks in front of her.
She picked up the first one without hesitation and downed it in one long gulp. The burn rushed through her throat, her chest, her stomach, searing and satisfying. The liquid fire she'd been craving.
Jack blinked. "Wow. Okay!"
He still looked at her. Carefully. Like he was trying to figure out what kind of storm she was walking through.
"Selena," he said gently, "what happened?"
She took a deep breath. The burn lingered, then she said, "Peter wants an open marriage."
Jack didn't react right away. Just blinked. "He what?"
She exhaled, the story spilling out between her breaths, "Apparently, he's been thinking about it for a while. Says it'll 'bring us closer.' That's the mature, modern thing. He tried to make it sound like a team-building exercise."
Jack's face twisted. "Jesus Christ."
Selena's laugh was hollow. "I thought he was joking at first. Then I realized he wasn't. And I couldn't move. I just sat in the bathroom for hours. I didn't know what to do."
Jack shook his head slowly. "What a piece of—"
"Don't," she said softly, cutting him off. "I'm still trying to… make sense of everything."
Jack didn't say anything for a moment. Then he flagged down the bartender, "Same thing she's having," he said. "Two."
Selena raised an eyebrow. "Wow, are you sure?"
He smirked. "If you're drinking through a breakdown, I'm not letting you do it alone."
When their drinks arrived, she reached for the second glass.
Jack stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Maybe go slow?"
She pulled her hand away and took a sip anyway. "I'm not here to be careful tonight."
Jack didn't push.
She drank again. The room started to shift a little. Her skin warmed. Her limbs loosened.
His voice was quieter now. "You deserve better than that, you know."
"I don't know what I deserve anymore."
He leaned in. "You deserve someone who looks at you like you're the only thing that exists."
Selena let out a slow breath. "You always say the right thing."
"That's because I've been watching you for years."
She blinked at him. "Huh?"
Jack shrugged, casual but not dismissive. "You're my best friend's little sister. But you stopped being just that a long time ago."
Her heart skipped.
And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the broken pieces inside her, but she didn't stop the words before they slipped out. "You used to flirt with me."
He grinned. "Used to?"
Her fingers brushed against his thigh. Light. Barely there. Jack's muscles tensed slightly under her touch.
"Selena," he said, low.
She tilted her head. "Do you want me to stop?"
His hand found hers under the bar, curling his fingers around hers. "No."
Their eyes locked. The club's lights blinked around them, but nothing existed beyond that tiny corner of the world. As she leaned in, Jack didn't move away. Then all of a sudden, their lips met. Soft at first. Testing. Searching.The heat rushed in, fast and hungry. His hand slid to her waist. Her fingers tangled in his collar. They kissed like they'd been waiting too long, like the world outside didn't matter. Her breath hitched against his mouth. He deepened the kiss, slow and controlled, but she matched it with something reckless. She was unraveling, and Jack was letting her.