Chapter Three: Lost in the Rhythm
The dance floor was alive.
Lights pulsed in deep blues and warm golds, washing over bodies that moved as one, surrendering to the rhythm that filled the room. The bass rolled through Althea's chest, steady and commanding, like a second heartbeat. When Cass led her onto the floor, she became acutely aware of everything at once. The closeness. The heat. The way the world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of them surrounded by sound and motion.
She hesitated for only a second.
Cass noticed.
"You don't have to," he said, leaning closer so she could hear him over the music. His voice brushed her ear, sending a small shiver down her spine. "We can just stand here."
"I said one song," she replied, lifting her chin. "I didn't say I'd freeze."
That earned her a slow smile. Not teasing. Appreciative.
"There she is," he said. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
She laughed softly. "You barely know me."
"Sometimes," he said, placing one hand lightly at her waist, careful, deliberate, "that makes things more honest."
Her breath caught at the contact.
It wasn't possessive. It wasn't rushed. It was as if he was asking permission without words. Althea didn't pull away. Instead, she rested her hand against his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth beneath the fabric of his suit. He smelled even better up close, clean and calm, like he belonged everywhere he stood.
They started moving.
Not dramatically. Not carelessly. Just slow, natural movements, bodies swaying in time with the music. The crowd around them faded into a blur of color and motion. Every time she shifted closer, she felt the subtle tension in his posture, like he was holding himself back just as much as she was.
"You dance like you're thinking too much," he said.
She glanced up at him. "Is that a bad thing?"
"It's interesting," he replied. "Like you're listening to the music, but also arguing with it."
She laughed, surprised. "I didn't realize it was that obvious."
"Only if someone's paying attention."
Her heart skipped, just slightly. "And you are?"
"Very."
The way he said it made her feel seen. Not exposed. Just noticed.
She relaxed a little then, letting her body follow the rhythm instead of resisting it. Cass adjusted effortlessly, matching her movements, guiding without leading. When the song shifted, becoming slower, heavier, he drew her just a little closer. Not enough to overwhelm her, just enough to remind her that he was there.
"You look incredible tonight," he said.
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "You say that to everyone."
"I don't," he replied immediately. "I say it when I mean it."
She searched his face for humor, exaggeration, anything that would make it feel less real. She found none. His gaze was steady, sincere in a way that made her stomach flutter.
"This dress," he continued, eyes flicking briefly over her before returning to her face, "it looks like it was made for you."
She swallowed. "Vera picked it."
"Then your friend has excellent taste," he said. "But the way you wear it? That's all you."
She laughed again, softer this time. "You're dangerously charming, Cass."
His lips curved. "And you're pretending that doesn't work on you."
She didn't deny it.
They talked as they danced. About nothing. About everything. About how loud the music was, how strange it felt to be in a room full of people and still feel alone until moments like this. He asked her what she liked to do when she wasn't out pretending to enjoy nightlife. She told him she liked quiet places, late nights with tea, mornings that didn't rush her.
He told her he liked silence too.
"I spend most of my time surrounded by noise," he said. "People. Expectations. It gets exhausting."
"That doesn't sound like the life you're living right now," she said, gesturing vaguely around them.
"This," he said, glancing at the lights, the crowd, the music, "is temporary."
"And the rest?"
"The rest is complicated."
She nodded slowly. "I get that."
Another song blended into the next, and she barely noticed the change. Her hand had slid from his shoulder to his chest at some point, fingers resting there without thought. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and calm beneath her palm. It grounded her in a way she hadn't expected.
"You're quiet," he said.
She looked up. "I'm just… here."
He smiled. "That might be my favorite thing about you."
Her chest tightened. "You don't even know me."
"Maybe not," he said. "But I know this version of you. The one who showed up tonight. The one who dances like she's deciding whether to stay or disappear."
She laughed softly. "You make it sound dramatic."
"Life is dramatic," he replied. "We just pretend it isn't."
They fell into a comfortable silence then, letting the music speak for them. His hand remained at her waist, warm and steady. Every so often, his thumb would move slightly, almost absentmindedly, and each time it sent a quiet thrill through her.
She thought of Vera, somewhere in the club, lost in her own fun. She thought of her apartment, her textbooks, her life waiting patiently for her to return. It all felt far away.
Right now, she was Lena.
And Lena didn't have responsibilities.
Lena didn't have rules.
Lena didn't overthink every feeling.
"You're smiling," Cass said.
She hadn't realized she was. "Am I?"
"Yes," he said. "It suits you."
She tilted her head. "You seem to notice a lot."
"I notice what matters."
Her breath caught again. "And what matters right now?"
He leaned closer, close enough that she could hear him without the music. "You."
The word settled between them, heavy with meaning. She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know if she should say anything at all.
So she danced.
She let the music carry her, let the moment stretch and breathe. She let herself feel the pull between them without questioning it. For once, she didn't try to control the narrative.
When the song finally ended, she felt it like a loss.
Cass didn't move away immediately. Neither did she.
"One song," he reminded her gently.
She smiled. "You're very persuasive."
"You stayed," he said. "That was your choice."
She glanced around, suddenly aware of time again. "I should probably find my friend."
He nodded, though something unreadable crossed his face. "Of course."
But neither of them stepped back.
Not yet.
And as the music swelled again around them, Althea knew one thing with certainty.
Whatever this was, it was no longer just a distraction.
It was the beginning of something she wasn't ready to name.