Aria's POV
Maya's still hugging me when my phone buzzes again.
Derek: "Come find me. We should talk."
My stomach drops. Those words—"we should talk"—never mean anything good. I pull away from Maya, forcing my best fake smile. "I'm fine. Really. Just being dramatic."
"You're not dramatic. Derek's being a jerk." Maya's eyes flash with protective anger. "Want me to kick him out?"
"No! It's your party. I'll just... go talk to him. Clear things up." I'm already backing toward the door. "Be right back."
I don't look at where Zane disappeared to. I don't think about his thumb on my cheek or the way his voice softened when he said he didn't hate me. I can't think about that. Not when my eight-month relationship is about to explode.
I find Derek near the main staircase, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. Jessica's nowhere in sight. Relief and dread war in my chest.
"Hey." I try to sound normal. "You wanted to talk?"
Derek looks up. No smile. No "you look beautiful" like he used to say. Just a flat, tired expression that makes my skin go cold. "Yeah. Not here though. Too many people."
He walks down a side hallway without checking if I'm following. I am, of course. Like a puppy desperate for scraps of attention. When did I become this girl? The one who accepts being ignored, being second choice, being not enough?
Derek stops in an empty hallway lined with family photos—Maya at various ages, Zane looking serious in a suit, their parents looking cold and perfect. Derek turns to face me, hands in his pockets.
"So." He won't meet my eyes. "This isn't working."
The words hit me like a punch. "What isn't working?"
"Us. This relationship." He says it so casually, like he's talking about returning a shirt that doesn't fit. "You're great, Aria. You're smart and pretty and my parents love you. But..."
"But what?" My voice cracks.
"You're uptight." Derek finally looks at me, and there's frustration in his eyes. "In bed, you just... lie there. Like you're waiting for it to be over. I need someone who actually enjoys sex."
My face burns. Shame crashes over me in waves. "I... I'm trying. I just need time to—"
"I don't have time to wait for you to figure out how to enjoy yourself." He's getting louder. Does he realize that? "Jessica doesn't need instructions. She's not frigid like—"
"Jessica?" The name comes out strangled. "You're comparing me to Jessica?"
"I'm not comparing. I'm just saying..." He runs a hand through his hair, looking annoyed that I'm making this difficult. "You're beautiful on the outside, Aria, but you're broken on the inside. I need normal. I need passion. I need someone who doesn't make sex feel like a chore."
Broken. Frigid. Chore.
Each word is a knife sliding between my ribs. I'm aware—distantly, through the ringing in my ears—that his voice carried. A couple walking past glances over, eyes wide. They heard. They definitely heard him call me frigid.
"I gave you eight months," I whisper. "I tried to be what you wanted."
"That's the problem. You shouldn't have to try. It should be natural." Derek checks his phone again. Actually checks his phone while breaking my heart. "Look, I need to go. Jessica's waiting in the car. We can talk more later if you want, but... I think we both know this is over."
He starts walking away. Just like that. Eight months summarized and dismissed in a hallway while his new girlfriend waits outside.
"Were you sleeping with her?" The question bursts out before I can stop it. "While we were together?"
Derek pauses. Doesn't turn around. "Does it matter?"
Then he's gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving me standing there like an idiot. Like a broken, frigid idiot who wasn't woman enough to keep her boyfriend interested.
The tears come hot and fast. My chest feels like it's caving in. I press my back against the wall and slide down, not caring that my dress rides up, not caring that my makeup is probably running black rivers down my face.
Broken. He called me broken.
Maybe he's right. Maybe there is something wrong with me. I'm twenty-one and I've only had two boyfriends. The first one in high school barely counted—awkward fumbling that went nowhere. Derek was supposed to be different. He was pre-med, responsible, parent-approved. We were supposed to be the couple that made sense.
But I never felt... anything. Not like what Maya describes about her hookups. Not like what I read in books. Sex with Derek was fine. Bearable. Sometimes uncomfortable. But I thought that was normal. That passion and pleasure were exaggerations.
Footsteps approach. I look up, praying it's not Maya. I can't face her right now. Can't admit that her perfect party got ruined by my dramatic relationship explosion.
It's not Maya.
Zane Hartley stands at the end of the hallway, his suit jacket gone, his tie loosened. He looks like he's been searching for something. His eyes land on me—crumpled on the floor, mascara-streaked, destroyed—and his expression shifts into something I've never seen before.
Fury.
"What happened?" His voice is deadly quiet.
"Nothing. I'm fine." I try to stand, but my legs are shaking. "Go away, Zane."
He doesn't go away. He walks closer, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. "Did he hurt you? If he put his hands on you, I'll—"
"He dumped me, okay?" The words explode out, louder than I intended. "He said I'm broken and frigid and boring in bed. He said he needs someone normal, someone who actually enjoys sex. Happy now? You get to witness Aria Chen's complete humiliation."
Zane stares at me. Something dangerous swirls in his blue eyes—something that makes my breath catch despite everything.
"He said you're frigid?" Zane's voice drops even lower.
"Yes. Loud enough for people to hear. So congratulations, by tomorrow everyone will know that Aria Chen is a disappointment in bed." I wipe at my face, smearing makeup everywhere. "Can you leave now? I'd like to fall apart in private."
"Stand up."
"What?"
"Stand up, Aria." It's not mean. It's... commanding. The voice of someone used to being obeyed.
I stand on shaky legs, confused and raw and so tired of tonight. Zane steps closer—too close—until I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"You're not broken," he says. Each word is clear and firm. "You're not frigid. Your idiot boyfriend didn't know what the hell he was doing."
"You don't know that. You don't know anything about—"
"I know plenty." Zane's hand comes up, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize was falling. Just like on the balcony. But this time, there's no interruption. No Maya rushing in. Just us in this empty hallway with my world in pieces around me.
"How would you possibly know?" I whisper.
His eyes lock on mine. Dark. Intense. Full of something that makes heat pool low in my stomach despite my tears, despite my broken heart, despite every reason I should walk away.
"Because I've been watching you for three years," Zane says quietly. "And I've seen the way your breath catches when I walk in a room. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking. That's not broken, Aria. That's hunger. You just need someone who knows how to feed it."
My heart stops. Starts. Races.
"What are you saying?"
Zane's thumb traces my lower lip. The touch sends electricity shooting through my entire body—more sensation than eight months with Derek ever produced.
"I'm saying your boyfriend was an idiot who didn't deserve you." His voice is rough. "I'm saying you're not frigid. You're a wildfire waiting for someone to strike the match."
"Zane—"
"I'm saying..." He leans closer. His lips brush my ear. "If you let me take you out of here, I'll prove exactly how not-broken you are."
My mind screams warnings. This is Maya's brother. The playboy. The man I've hated for three years. The worst possible rebound.
But my body doesn't care about warnings. It cares about the way his breath feels on my neck. The way his cologne makes me dizzy. The way I suddenly, desperately want to know what his lips taste like.
"One night," I hear myself whisper. "Prove it."
Zane's smile is wicked and beautiful and absolutely terrifying.
"Baby, one night with me and you'll never doubt yourself again." His hand slides to my lower back. "My car's out back. Unless you've changed your mind?"
I should change my mind. Should run back to Maya, go home, cry into ice cream like a normal person after a breakup.
Instead, I take his offered hand.
"Show me," I say. "Show me I'm not broken."
Zane's eyes flash with dark promise. "Oh, I'll show you everything."