UNRAVELING AMAYA.

3

At the ripe age of nineteen, I met Jared—he had the swagger of Marcus in Boomerang. He was sure of himself, with a confidence that seemed to radiate effortlessly. It was in the way he carried himself, the assurance in his stride, the spark in his eyes that hinted at secrets and adventures yet to be discovered. I fell in love with him because of that—his love felt familiar in a lot of ways. It was as if I had known him long before we met, like he was an echo of dreams and desires I'd harbored silently within myself.

Things started to change after a while. The charm that once drew me in began to feel fake, and his confidence started to seem like arrogance. The spark in his eyes that promised adventure now seemed to hide something darker. Our talks grew tense, filled with unspoken frustrations and misunderstandings. The familiarity I once loved now felt suffocating, and the comfort turned into a sense of being trapped. The love that once felt like home felt like a cage, and I realized that sometimes, the echoes of our dreams can turn into the shadows of our disappointments.

In the midst of sulking to Spread Thin by Mariah The Scientist, my phone rang. Cordelia's name flashed on the screen. Answering reluctantly, I heard her enthusiasm spill through the speaker. "Hey, my antisocial bestie. Me, Mena and Ivan are hitting the club tonight. You in?"

The idea of a night out tempted me but I really didn't feel like being seen. Hell, I was already dressed for bed. "I don't know, Cori. I'm not really in the mood."

"Come onnnnn," She sang. "You need to have some fun." Cordelia's persuasive tone had a way of convincing me. "Get your mind off of that asshole because I know that's all you're doing."

I sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll go."

"That's the spirit! We'll pick you up in an hour. Wear something sexy." She ended the call. Don't have to tell me twice.

I sported a shimmering silver mini dress with sequins that caught the light as I finished curling my hair. The dress hugged my curves and had a plunging neckline that added a touch of daring. I paired it with strappy black heels and a sleek clutch, ready to turn heads the moment I walked into the club.

I admired myself as I added the finishing touches. A knock disrupted my moment. Adrian stood in the doorway, a bag of Takis in hand. "What's with this hoochie mama shit?" he asked, chips crunching loudly.

I rolled my eyes, brushing off his judgment. "I'm going out."

He nodded, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "Out where? The blade?"

"You just a hater." I laughed, shooing him out. Brothers, always with an unwanted opinion.

When we got to the club, Ivan worked his charm, guiding us through the crowd with the golden promise of VIP access. The thumping beats and neon lights set the vibe for the night ahead. As we ventured through the sea of bodies, I couldn't help but feel the surge of anticipation, my eyes scanning the club for glimpses of our section.

Finally we stepped into the dimly lit VIP area, a sanctuary away from the chaotic dance floor. Plush seating, an exclusive bar, and a bird's-eye view of the energetic crowd—it was a clubber's paradise.

When Ximena joined us, the tequila shots started flowing. Clase Azul was our chosen potion for the night. After two shots, we started dancing while Ivan disappeared into the crowd, leaving us girls to have our fun. "See! Isn't this a lot better than staring at four walls?" Cordelia tried to speak over Privileged Rappers by Drake.

Amidst our revelry, I see Ivan making his way back into the section with a figure following close behind. As they neared a strobe light, I noticed the familiar face of Ryan. How cliché of us to cross paths outside of work.