He smiles—quick, almost secret.
James practically eyeballs him into dust.
Jae drags over a chair and sits right beside me. Way too close.
I scoot toward James, but Jae is still close enough that I can smell his cologne—clean, warm, a little sharp.
His hands rest on his knees, long fingers, neat nails.
And his eyes… they're not brown.
They're honey.
What is wrong with me?
I force myself to look away. I am not admiring the guy who might've put someone in a coma. I'm drunk, not brainless.
Across the room, Giselle watches us with murderous interest.
Let her.
For once, I don't care.
"I'm getting more drinks," I announce, standing.
David moves like he's going to come with me, but Jae stands first and lifts a hand.
"I'll go."
I freeze. He asks what everyone's drinking, and when he turns to me, I escape toward the bar.
He appears beside me seconds later and orders the drinks without even looking.
Then he turns to me.
There's something in his eyes—something heavy, like he's been waiting for an opening.
"What?" I ask, trying to sound annoyed instead of panicked.
"Why'd you run from me yesterday?" he asks.
Heat blasts into my cheeks.
He saw me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.
His eyes narrow, like he knows exactly how full of it I am.
"You dropped your purse."
My stomach flips.
Oh.
Oh no.
He has it.
That's why he followed me.
Not because he's creepy—because he was returning Grandma's purse.
Of course he wasn't stalking me.
I'm officially the world's biggest idiot.
The music spikes. I use it as cover.
"Sorry—can't hear you!" I shout, pretending distraction.
He leans in, talking directly into my ear.
"The pier. You left it when you ran."
His voice sends a weird shiver through me.
"Oh," I breathe. "I did?"
He nods. "It's in my car. I'll give it back when we leave."
He says we and my brain short-circuits—then immediately resets.
We, as in… all of us leaving the club. Obviously.
He studies me again. "You still didn't answer my question."
"What question?" I ask—too quickly.
"Why you ran."
"I didn't run from you," I insist. "I just… ran. I was late. Needed to get home."
The bartender slides the drinks over. Jae throws down some cash and I reach for the drinks.
"Laura—" he starts.
The way he says my name does something to my spine.
"What?" I snap, because anything else might sound too soft.
He hesitates, as if weighing his words. Then he shakes his head.
"I'll take these." He grabs the drinks. Our hands brush.
He heads back to the table.
I stay rooted in place, dizzy, confused, and slightly furious.
Whatever he meant to say—that wasn't it.
His eyes said something entirely different.
Jae is so strange.
And I seriously need to stay far, far away from him.
I drop into my seat, and for a moment, none of us speak. If the music wasn't blasting now, the silence would've been unbearable.
Jae is the one who breaks it.
He starts talking with David—school stories, mutual friends, old classmates—and the tension thins out just enough for Gaby and James to start chatting again.
"Laura!" James leans toward me after a while.
"What?"
He cups a hand to my ear. "Stop ogling. He's gonna notice."
"I'm ogling him?" I whisper back, horrified.
James nods so fast it's almost insulting.
I inhale, stare very hard at my drink, and try to glue my attention on the glass.
But then Jae laughs at something David says—low, warm, a little rough—and butterflies explode in my stomach like someone shook a soda bottle inside me.
My eyes snap to him.
Oh God.
I could listen to him talk forever.
He's stupidly cute.
And I'm stupidly drunk.
The urge to flee hits me hard. I shoot to my feet.
"Wanna dance?" I blurt to Gaby.
She gives me a worried look.
James mouths NO like an angry mime.
"You're drunk," he says out loud. "Just sit—"
"Nope," I cut in, doing a lip pout I didn't even know I still had. "I'm going to dance."
Before either of them can stop me, I head straight for the dance floor.
I know they'll chase after me in about three seconds. So I speed-walk.
But just before I reach the crowd, a hand grabs my arm and spins me around.
"I knew you would—"
I stop.
"Jae?"
"Where's James?" I shout over the music, looking past him.
"He doesn't feel like dancing," Jae says, dead serious.
"And you do?" I yell.
He grins. "No. But you're drunk, and you probably shouldn't be alone."
I'm not drunk, just tipsy but something about that sends me into a fit of ridiculous laughter. Like ugly, gasping, can't-breathe laughter.
Then suddenly I'm crying from laughing so hard.
"I'm a mess," I manage.
"Come on, let's get you back to your friends." He reaches for my arm again.
I shove him off instinctively. "No!"
Jae's brows knit. He exhales like he's counting to ten.
Yeah, I'm being childish.
But this is my first night out in forever—and maybe my last for a while.
"Look," I shout, "I'll regret all of this tomorrow, so let me have fun before morning ruins everything. You go back to the table. I'm going to dance."
I don't give him time to argue. I turn toward the dance floor—
—and freeze.
Giselle is already out there dancing with Isaac.
I steel myself and try to pretend I don't see them… but then Peter appears with Mallory.
Throwing myself into that mess suddenly seems less like bravery and more like voluntary humiliation.
Maybe Jae's right.
Maybe it is time to bail.
Yep. Leaving sounds great.
I turn—
—and slam straight into a very tall, very solid person.
Jae.
Still there.
Looking down at me with that almost-smug, almost-annoyed expression.
"Don't feel like dancing anymore?" he shouts, dripping sarcasm.
"Excuse me," I mutter, trying to step past him.
But he catches my arm again and moves me right in front of him.
"You're very touchy, you know," I blurt before my brain can stop me.
Great. Good job, almost drunk Laura.
I try to pull my arm free. He doesn't let go.
"Why are you running away?" he asks, voice tight. His eyes flick briefly toward Peter.
"Because of him?" he adds.
"Actually," I say, frustration bleeding through, "I just want to go home now."
He studies me for a second, then finally releases my arm.
The song is building, bass thumping through the floor.
I start to walk away—
—but his hand closes around mine.
"What are y—"
He pulls me toward the dance floor, firm but not rough.
"Not letting you run," he says.
And somehow… somehow… it doesn't feel frightening.
It feels like he's steadying me—keeping me from spiraling out of my own head.
When we reach the crowd, he turns to face me.
He steps in close, closer than before.
And he starts dancing.
Jae—mysterious, quiet, rumored-to-be-dangerous Jae—is actually dancing.
With me.
A laugh spills out of me. I can't help it.
And then I'm dancing too.
I'm no longer thinking about Peter, or Giselle, or rumors, or the purse, or the stupid coin I dropped—
Just the music.
The lights.
The way Jae watches me like he can actually see me in the middle of a crowded room.
***
It's getting too hot. My ears are buzzing, my vision a little swimmy.
All the dancing, the lights, the spinning—it's too much. My balance tips, and suddenly I'm pressed against Jae's chest.
His hands catch my back before I can stumble again.
"Come on," he says, steadying me. "You should sit down."
I nod because my mouth doesn't trust me right now, and he guides me toward the table.
We're almost there when I stop short and turn around.
"I've been wanting to ask you something."
He pauses, facing me fully.
"Why did you fight Peter? Why did you go after him?"
Jae is silent for a moment—just looking at me like he's deciding which truth to give me.
"Because he's a jerk," he finally says.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, no kidding. But Peter told me to 'ask my boyfriend what happened.' He meant you. Do you know why he said that?"
I look straight up at him; he looks straight down at me. He's so tall it's unfair.
"Because, you know, we're not… we aren't…"
Great. Drunk equals zero vocabulary.
He smiles—slow, knowing—and leans in. His face gets very close, and for one horrifying second I think he's going to kiss me.
My breath stops.
But instead his cheek angles near mine, like he's about to whisper something he doesn't want anyone else to hear.
I hold still. I want—need—to know his reason.
"You're drunk," he says quietly.
Then he pulls back.
"I'll tell you another time."
The nerve.
"You are an idiot," I snap, pushing him away before marching back to the table.
James stares at me like he's trying to analyze seven emotions at once—admiration? suspicion? panic?
I flop into the chair beside him. Gaby leans in, eyes huge.
"Girl, you just stole the show," she says, gaping.
I force a smile, trying to pretend nothing about that was wildly confusing.
"I think it's time to go home," I murmur to James.
"Let's go." His voice is tight, and he stands so fast he nearly knocks into the table.
No questions, no teasing—just full-on worried James.
David and Gaby say their goodbyes to Jae. I'm about to do the same when he says,
"I'll get your purse."
Right. The purse. The start of all this chaos.
We step outside, and the cold night air hits me like a wave of clarity I really, really didn't ask for.
I breathe deeply, trying to clear the fog in my head.
Jae heads to his car.
"I'll be right back," I tell James, wobbling only a little as I follow.
He opens the door, pulls out my grandma´s purse, and hands it to me.
"Thanks," I say, clutching it harder than necessary.
He nods, unreadable, like always.
"This was fun," I tell him automatically, then immediately wish I hadn't.
Fun? Really? After everything I heard tonight?
"I thought you said you'd regret it in the morning," he says.
"I will," I admit, shrugging. "But… whatever."
We just stand there for a second—me swaying slightly, him watching me like he's trying to figure out what version of me he's supposed to be dealing with.
Neither of us moves.
And then, my brain flashes back to what David said.
The expulsion.
The weed.
The boy still in a coma.
Jae's eyes flick past me. "Your friends are waiting."
I turn.
James and David are standing a few feet away, arms crossed, looking like they're ready to drag me home themselves.
"Right." I swallow. "I should go."
He gives one small nod. "Goodnight, Laura."
"Goodnight," I answer, careful not to put his name at the end.
I walk back toward James, wrapping my arms around myself as the cold finally settles in.
Halfway there, something makes me glance over my shoulder—
Jae gets into his car. No smile. No lingering look. Just starts the engine and pulls away without hesitation.
The taillights disappear down the street.
A part of me feels lighter.
A bigger part feels stupid.
And an even bigger part wonders what the hell I'm doing being anywhere near a guy with that kind of history.
But I don't say a word as James guides me toward the car.
I'm too dizzy.
Too confused.
And way too aware that whatever tonight was—it probably shouldn't happen again.