CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chloe POV
Sunday night does not announce itself.
It does not knock. It does not wait.
It seeps in.
Through open doors and cracked windows. Through bass vibrating up through sidewalks and into bone. Through spilled drinks and laughter that starts too loud and ends too abruptly. It settles into my skin and loosens judgment without ever asking permission.
I pause just inside the bar, fingers tightening briefly around the strap of my bag.
it's Eleven o'clock and I should be home but it's Saturday for christ sake I can't keep cooking myself off inside my apartment.
After the cooking am I also going to marry myself off to myself? seeing that's is impossible hence I am here.
This place is packed full.
Bodies press shoulder to shoulder. Heat clings low and damp. Colored lights slide across faces and glasses and bare arms, never staying long enough to settle. The bass is steady, slow, insistent — something I feel behind my eyes more than I hear.
A group near the door laughs too hard. Someone spills a drink and doesn't apologize. Someone else sways badly yo the music.
"Bad idea," I mutter under my breath. 'no decent man here.' I thought and turned to leave.
"Most good ones are." The voice comes from my left.
I turn sharply. what does he mean. my gaze questioned him.
He stands close enough that I would have noticed him if he had been there a second ago. Tall. Relaxed. Hands in his pockets like the room belongs to him and always has. His smile is easy, practiced, not forced — the kind of smile that doesn't ask if it's welcome.
"Do you practice that," I ask, scanning his face, "or is it a talent."
"Practice what."
"Appearing."
He laughs softly, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the music. "Only on weekends."
I study him openly. The lighting does him favors — shadow and color catching sharp lines, smoothing edges. Dark hair. Clean jaw. The kind of face that looks like it belongs in a crowd without blending into it. Confidence that doesn't lean forward or back, doesn't demand or retreat.
"Buy me a drink," I say. trying not to sway to the music.
He arches one brow. "That wasn't a question." he asked moving closer
"No," I agree. "It was an observation you were about to confirm." I took a step backwards
He considers me for a moment longer than necessary, then gestures toward the bar. "Lead the way." I nodded and began to lead the way to the bar.
We don't exchange names. We don't need to. Not tonight.
At the bar, the bartender slides two glasses across the counter without asking. I notice. I lift an eyebrow but take mine anyway, fingers curling around the cool glass.
"To coincidence," he says, lifting his drink.
I clink mine against it. "To terrible decisions."
I said smiling hard
We drink.
The alcohol burns clean. Too clean. No bitterness. No aftertaste. I register it, then let it go.
The music shifts. Someone bumps into me from behind. I stumble half a step forward.
A hand catches me at the small of my back, steadying, warm — already gone before I can turn. I quickly looked back to catch the person but I didn't know who bumped into me or who caught me.
"Sorry," he says easily.
"It's fine," I reply, though I shift forward anyway, reclaiming my space.
"You new here," he asks.
"To the city," I say. "Two years and counting."
"And already bored." I shook my head on slightly disagreement.
"Distrustful," I correct. slipping from my glass and draining the last drop.
He smiles wider. "That's smarter."
Another drink appears in front of me. I frown at the glass.
"I didn't order this."
He nudges it closer. "You looked like you might need more." he said his face control into a smile broad enough to make anyone comfortable but I was not.
I hesitate. Shrug. "You're bold."
"I'm patient."
We talk.
"Where I moved from.?" he suddenly asked
"Palm Grove City" I simply replied then asked the same of him
"I lived here all my life" he said but my instincts screamed he is lying, but I choose not to call him out on it.
"Where I work." he asked again and I told him
he told me he managed his small company this time I believe him
from there we talk about the neighborhoods I already hate and the ones I love.
He listens more than he speaks. Doesn't interrupt. Doesn't push. Doesn't lean in too close.
Eventually the noise begins to feel heavy. The bass presses harder. The air thickens.
slowly his left hand on my lower back guilded me to the door.
"Where are we going," I ask as we step outside.
"Somewhere quieter," he replies.
"That's vague." I said turning to look at his face.
"On purpose." he said sounding slightly amused
We walk.
Not far. Just far enough that the bar noise fades into a dull hum. Streetlights cast long shadows across pavement. Cars pass in streaks of light. A couple argues quietly on a corner. Someone laughs and stumbles.
"Do you always do this," I ask, glancing at him, "or am I special." I asked stopping in my track.
"You wouldn't believe the answer either way." he said not bothering to elongate.
I moved some steps then stopped beneath a streetlight, light catching the curve of my cheek. "I don't go home with strangers."
He turns to face me fully. He wasn't crowding me, or trying reach and bring me closer.
"Then don't," he says simply.
really I asked him doubting he will just let me go like that
I wait.
Nothing happens.
My lips press together. "You're annoying."
He smiles. "You'll live."
We keep walking.
The building we stop at is old but clean. Polished floors. Quiet lobby. The kind of place people pass through without learning names. The air smells faintly of cleaner and cold air.
The elevator hums softly as he presses the button.
"Last chance," I say lightly. "To convince me you're not trouble. that I can come with you "
"I'll recover," he replies. yet I found myself following him into his den.
The doors slide open.
My phone vibrates.
I glance down, brow furrowing. "That's weird."
"Work," he asks casually.
"No." I check again. "Ashley."
He stills. Just enough for me to notice.
"Answer it," he says.
I lift the phone. "Ash."
"Where are you," Ashley asks immediately.
"Out." I answered feeling like defending myself.
"With who." she asked her voice getting desperate.
"Why. why do you asked" I answer
"Chloe," Ashley says, sharper now. "Where are you." I looked around unable to identify where I am with a land mark
I step into the elevator. He follows. "You sound serious Ashley, is there any problem."
I asked getting worried a bit
"I am, serious" Ashley replies. "I need you to leave where you are now." she said her tone leaving no room for arguments yet I decided to take it lightly
I laugh uneasily. "You're being dramatic." I said trying to easy off the tension.
"Am I ever." she asked over the phone
A pause.
"No," I admit.
"Please," Ashley says. "Go home."
I look at the man beside me.
He meets my gaze calmly.
"Tell her it's fine," he says easily.
Ashley's voice tightens. "I don't like this."
"Nothing's happening," I say.
"Not yet," Ashley answers.
Silence stretches.
The elevator doors slide shut.
I exhale. "You're freaking her out."
"She worries," he says.
"She doesn't do that without reason."
Another pause.
I step back. "I should go."
He nods. "If that's what you want."
I study him a moment longer. "I'll call you."
"I'll remember," he says.
I leave quickly, heels clicking. The elevator doors close again.
He stays behind as I ran off on my heals.
ERIC — POV
The night doesn't end when someone leaves.
It just changes direction.
I don't go home after Chloe walks out of the elevator. I don't follow her either. I stand there for a moment, listening to the hum of the building, the echo of her heels fading, the faint buzz of a city that doesn't care about almosts.
Then I smile.
Not irritated. Not angry.
Just… unsatisfied.
I step back out onto the street. The air is cooler here, sharper, like it's meant to wake something up. Music leaks from somewhere down the block. Slower than the bar we left. Thicker.
That'll do.
The club isn't crowded the way hers was. It's close-packed instead. Bodies pressed in tight. The lights linger too long on skin. Red and purple stain the room like bruises. Sweat hangs heavy.
I take my time finding a place near the back wall. One foot planted, one knee bent, posture relaxed. The same stance I had earlier. The one that lets people come to me.
A woman stumbles back against my chest, laughing as she turns.
"Oh," she says, eyes flicking up. "Sorry."
"You're fine," I tell her.
She doesn't move away. "You look like someone who got interrupted."
I chuckle. "Story of my night."
She grins. "Want to finish it."
A man edges in from the side, drink already empty, curiosity louder than caution.
"You guys look cozy," he says.
"We're getting there," the woman replies before I can.
I nod toward the hallway. "Quieter back there."
Neither of them argues.
The hallway is narrow. The bass dulls. Footsteps echo. Someone laughs behind us. Someone doesn't notice we're gone.
The room we enter is half-finished. Concrete walls. Flickering bulb. Cold air crawling up skin.
The woman rubs her arms. "Why does it feel like that."
"Like what," the man asks.
"Like something just… dropped."
I step past them, hand resting flat against the wall beside the door.
"Sit," I say calmly.
The word lands heavier than it should.
They sit.
The light flickers once.
Then steadies.
When I step back into the main room later, the music welcomes me like nothing happened. I straighten my jacket, roll my shoulders, smooth the edge of my cuff.
Behind me, the woman stumbles out first, blinking like she's waking up somewhere unfamiliar.
"You okay," someone asks her.
She laughs, confused. "I don't know. I feel… weird."
The man follows, pale, rubbing his temples.
"You good," the bartender asks.
He nods too quickly. "Yeah. Just need air."
They stay.
They always do.
I order water. Drink it slow.
Earlier tonight, Chloe left when she was told to leave.
I respect that.
This—
This was different.
I set the glass down and disappear back into the crowd, already bored again.
CHLOE POV
I sit on my bed later, shoes kicked off, phone warm in my hand.
I call Ashley back.
"You home," she asks immediately.
"Yes."
"Alone."
"Yes."
A breath releases on the other end. "Good."
I rub my arms. "Who was that guy."
Ashley pauses. "Just trust me. If someone makes your skin feel wrong, leave."
"I did."
"Good."
We hang up.
Outside the city hums.
Somewhere else, someone won't sleep tonight.
And somewhere else, someone will wake up emptier than before.