The Keys to freedom

Slimey things

Oz biked across town, the sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees as she coasted down Pyke's long, winding driveway. His house stood like a mansion out of a magazine—white columns, manicured hedges, and a driveway that could easily host a small parade.

She parked her bike at the edge of the drive and made her way to the front door. Before she could knock, it swung open.

"You're early," Pyke said with a smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Yeah, well, sue me for being punctual,"

"I think you just couldn't wait to see me " he smirked.

She rolled her eyes stepping past him into the foyer. It looked the same as she remembered—overdone and spotless, like no one actually lived there. He gestured to the staircase. "The dress is upstairs, in the guest bathroom.

She didn't respond, just brushed past him and climbed the steps. In the bathroom, she found the dress hanging from the back of the door. It was simple but elegant—deep forest green with a fitted waist and soft satin finish. A small box sat on the counter, containing matching heels and earrings.

She held the dress up in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back skeptically. "Nothing low-cut," she murmured under her breath, eyeing the modest neckline. "At least he listened."

She changed quickly, ran a hand through her hair, and slipped on the heels. When she finally stepped out and made her way back downstairs, Pyke was waiting at the bottom—button-down shirt, tailored navy blazer, no tie. He looked... annoyingly good.

His eyes widened when he saw her. "Damn. You look..."

"Don't start," she warned, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

They got into his truck that smelled like new leather and headed for the Vineyard Club.

"I'm surprised you actually showed tonight," Pyke said after a few moments, flashing her a sideways smile.

"I made a commitment," Oz said simply, staring out the window. "I don't break my commitments."

His smile faltered for just a second, the memory of the night she ended things flickering across his face. She had made a commitment to him once, to their relationship, to love him-and she'd broken that. The ache of it surfaced briefly, but he quickly shoved the thought aside, forcing a lightness back into his tone.

"Still," he said, keeping his eyes on the road, "it means a lot that you came."

Oz shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms in front of her. "Look, I don't know what you're expecting from tonight, but—"

"All I expect," he cut in smoothly, glancing at her, "is to sit next to a pretty lady for a few hours... and then drive her back home. That's it."

She squinted her eyes at him skeptical, but didn't say anything back just turned and stared out the window the rest of the way and began mentally preparing for the night ahead.

The club loomed like a palace, ivy crawling up stone walls and chandeliers visible through towering windows. As they pulled into the lot, Pyke let out a breath.

"Ready to fake-laugh at bad jokes and pretend to care about boring old men stories? "

"Thrilled," she replied flatly.

They walked in together, his hand gently guiding her at the small of her back. The ballroom buzzed with chatter, clinking glasses, and the scent of expensive perfume. She felt their eyes before she saw them—dozens of perfectly polished people watching Pyke arrive with a girl who didn't quite fit their mold.