Isabella descended the stairs to the party below, both of them gleaming in their satin gowns. From the landing, Isabella and María took in the chaos below: the dance floor pulsed with energy as bodies swayed to the music's rhythm. Strobe lights flashed, casting a kaleidoscope of colors. Somewhere, the sharp clink of glasses punctuated the murmur of laughter and competing conversations.
The smile on Isabella's face widened.
A DJ spun tracks that kept the floor alive, cocktails flowed at the bar, and chaos reigned — tarot readers in the corners, strippers moving like silk across the stage, even a rowdy ping-pong match at the back. Isabella loved every second of it.
Her eyes sparkled as she took in the scenes. "This is exactly what I needed — a night to let loose."
María's ear-to-ear smile matched Isabella's as she also observed the party's dynamics. "Well, tonight, we're just girls having fun. Just girls, nothing else," she teased, nudging Isabella.
Yes. Tonight, I'm just...a girl. And I'm going to wring this moment dry.
Compliments flew in María's direction:
"You look gorgeous!"
"This party is lit!"
While Isabella trailed beside her, mostly invisible.
"I'm having so much fun, thanks for inviting me, María!"
At best, Isabella earned a nod, or a polite smile of acknowledgement. And at worse? Nothing at all.
Most of the people here were their former compañero de universidad — college classmates.
Everyone knew the Montez name, but hardly anyone actually knows me. Assignments, projects, clubs… that was it. María was my one real anchor — and even that had almost been ripped away.
I could've had another friend… if he hadn't been so damn stubborn about his rules. Rules he broke anyway… with his father.
She shook her head as if chasing the thoughts away, and tossed back the first shot that was handed to her, reaching for the next.
No thinking of any of that. Tonight, I'm going to be just a girl celebrating her birthday…. no expectations choking me, no suffocating maybes.
Isabella gulped another shot, allowing the music to wash over her, her body swaying gently side to side. And then the music changed:
🎶 All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies (all the...) 🎶
Isabella's eyes turned the size of a soccer ball. "Oh my gosh. That's our song!"
Isabella's eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh—that's our song!"
She took a big gulp, set her glass down, and turned to María—who was being shamelessly flirted with. She grabbed María's wrist and tugged her toward the dance floor; María let herself be pulled, giggling.
"Thanks," she yelled over the music. "I needed an escape route."
Isabella grinned at her, stretched her arms above her head, and began to move.
🎶 Up in the club (club), we just broke up (up)
I'm… 🎶
"I'm doin' my own lil' thing!" They sang loudly along, bending over by the waist and swinging their hair in slow, showy whips as they came back up. They bumped shoulders, laughing, all heat and glitter.
"I'm up on him (him), he's up on me (me)…"
They danced together, song after song. Jumping. Swaying. Twerking. Rocking. Yelling at the top of their voices.
"I'm going to take a few more shots!" Isabella yelled to María over the loud music. "You coming?"
María shook her head and continued to dance. Isabella wove through the bodies, doing her best not to trip. She wasn't much of a drinker, but with each shot the edges blurred, and she welcomed it.
"The... the strongest that you have," she slurred to the bartender, doing a little dance to the music. The bartender slid over a glass of some weird-looking substance. She squinted at it, and then, at the bartender.
He smiled at her. "Just two glasses of that and you'll be on the moon."
She grinned, grabbed the glass, and downed the contents in two gulps. "Ahh!" She slid the glass back over and swayed on her feet. "Oh shit—this works!"
A corner of the bartender's lips tugged up. "Told ya! A second?"
Isabella's head bobbed up and down quickly, her grin still wide. She chugged the second as soon as he set it down, then sucked in a breath as warmth spread through her.
She felt so—free.
She leaned across the counter, grabbed the bartender by the collar of his uniform, and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I… I'll… make sure to have… Ma—María pay you extra."
"Gracias, señorita." (Thank you, miss)
With a giggle, Isabella turned away from the bar. She scanned the room.
"Strip!" someone yelled—half tease, half challenge—bringing Isabella's attention to the stripper pole. Her gaze caught on the metallic pole glittering under the strobe lights.
Something in her chest cracked open.
She was no pole dancer—barely even a drinker—but the drink she had shimmered in her veins like gasoline.
Screw it.
As she stalked forward, heels clicking like punctuation marks, she didn't notice the figure sitting at the bar, his gaze fixed on her. He turned slightly, eyes following as she headed for the pole, a deep frown etched onto his face.
As Isabella reached the pole, she spun around it and tossed a sultry smirk over her shoulder.
Let them watch.
For the first time since college, she didn't care who did.
She leaned on the pole, tipped her head back, and ran her fingers from her neck down to her plunging neckline. She sent a subtle, alluring smile to the men gathered around and stretched out further her already exposed leg, shadows of her lacy lingerie showing. A corner of her lips tugged up at the hoots and whistles of approval. She twisted around the pole, moving her waist seductively as she did so.
Her back on the pole once again, she slowly went down, her legs spreading out to the sides as she did so. The cheers spurred her on. She dropped to all fours, prowled to the stage's edge, stopping before a man. He was handsome and from the way his shirt hugged his arms and chest, Isabella knew he had a good physique too.
Her gaze slid back to his face, and she frowned.
What the hell? Mateo? He… it can't be.
She shook her head, shut her eyes tightly, willingly her mind to stop playing tricks on her.
"Must—urp—be the drink," she muttered.
"What?" The man asked.
"Blluuurrrp—oops. 'Scuse me."
Isabella giggled, her tongue darted out, running slowly over her lips, her gaze fixed on his.
"Like what you see?"
She watched his eyes trail down to her breast which was exposed in the position she was in. His gaze came up to meet hers, a sly grin spreading out on his face.
"Sin Duda!" (Without a doubt)
Isabella made a beckoning gesture and walked off the stage, not looking to see if he followed. The music had shifted again — bass heavy, hypnotic, almost predatory. Isabella was drawn to it like a moth to flame. She barely noticed when the handsome man from the stage stepped up behind her, his hand brushing her lower back as he leaned close.
"You're a wild one," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
Isabella tilted her head back with a sultry smile. She met his eyes and held it. "Maybe… it's my birthday. I'm allowed—urp."
She covered her mouth with a palm. "Sorryyy."
The man laughed, pulled her closer. "Not an issue."
Their bodies pressed close, moving as one. He matched her rhythm, his hands slowly sliding down to her hips, slipping in through the slit on her dress to touch skin. She rolled against him, shamelessly grinding, laughing breathlessly at the attention and heat.
She turned to face him, hooked her hands behind his neck, rubbing up on him. His hands slid down her back to her butt, and squeezed.
"You dance like you don't care who's watching," he said.
Her foot faltered, just slightly, the alcohol beginning to betray her body.
A wave of nausea hit her like a slap. Her smile faltered.
"Whoa," she muttered, pressing a hand to her head. "I think I—"
"Need some air?" The guy asked quickly, his arm tightening around her waist.
Isabella nodded, her head spinning. "Bathroom," she mumbled.
"I'll take you."
Isabella was too drunk to notice the smug smile that spread on the man's face.
Or the thumbs-up quickly shot to the bartender.