On and Off the Track

S I X T Y T W O.

We finally decided to celebrate my vogue cover and the club was packed, bodies moving to the pulsating beat of the music, lights flashing in every corner. I swayed unsteadily on the dance floor, the world around me a blur of neon lights and bodies moving to the beat. I was drunk—really drunk. The cocktails had gone down way too easily, and I'd lost count of how many shots I'd had with the girls. Mila was beside me, laughing, her arm draped around Pierre as they danced together, lost in the rhythm. Charles was nearby too, grinning as he leaned against the bar, drink in hand, watching us with that familiar, easygoing smile. I swayed to the music, the alcohol coursing through me, making everything feel distant and light. I wasn't thinking about anything—no worries, no stress—just the heat of the club, the press of people, and the laughter of my friends echoing around me.
"Another round?" Charles called out, holding up his glass with a wink. I nodded enthusiastically, feeling a rush of warmth as he handed me a fresh drink. Pierre was spinning Mila around, and their laughter was infectious. I giggled along, stumbling a little as I raised my glass to my lips, feeling the cold liquid burn its way down my throat.

The beat of the music pounded in my ears, and I let it carry me away, closing my eyes for just a second, letting the world spin around me. But something nagged at the back of my mind, a faint flicker of unease that I couldn't quite place. I ignored it, drowning it in the alcohol, in the music, in the carefree joy of being with my friends.  But even as I laughed along with Mila and Pierre, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping in. And then, as I made my way back to our area with a drink in hand, I spotted him—Lando. He was across the room, surrounded by his friends, laughing and looking like he didn't have a care in the world. The sight of him sent a sharp pang through me, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to let it show. The name alone was enough to make me want to scream. I paused for a second, my vision swimming, trying to focus on something, anything that wasn't the memory of him with her. My hand gripped the edge of a nearby table for balance, the room spinning around me. I hated this—hated him, hated her, hated the fact that no matter what I did, I couldn't escape the constant reminder of how much it all hurt. I knew that I was happier with Charles, happier than I had ever been with him, but still it hurt. He didn't deserve my attention. Not tonight. For a split second, I felt his eyes on me, like he could sense me watching him, but I quickly turned away, ignoring him completely. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he still had any power over me. He'd already taken enough. I focused on my friends instead, forcing a smile, pretending like I was having the time of my life. I wouldn't let him have the power to ruin my night. With a deep breath, I grabbed another drink and started making my way back to the group, my steps uneven, the floor tilting beneath me. And then, just as I turned the corner, I slammed into someone. Hard. My drink sloshed over the edge of the glass, and I blinked up, ready to snap, when I realised who it was. Her. The recognition was instant, and my heart pounded in my chest as everything clicked. My face twisted in shock and anger.
"It's you, isn't it?" I spat, my voice sharper than I intended, but I couldn't hold it back. I looked her up and down, taking in the sight of the woman I'd been dreading meeting face to face. The woman who had ruined everything. "You're the one he cheated on me with." The words hit her hard, I could see it in her eyes. For a moment, she just stood there, speechless, clearly taken off guard. Good. She should be. She fumbled for words, her mouth opening and closing as her face paled.
"I—I..." she stammered, trying to get something out, anything to explain herself. But I wasn't here for excuses. I couldn't take hearing one more pathetic attempt to explain away what she had done.
"You didn't know?" I cut her off, my voice shaking with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. "Do you think that makes it any better? You were the other woman. You were part of the lie!" The guilt flashed across her face, and I felt a pang of something too—anger, sorrow, betrayal, all of it tangled up in this painful knot in my chest. She just stood there, looking at me with those wide, remorseful eyes, and for a second, I thought she might start crying. She whispered, almost too quietly to hear over the noise around us:
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Her apology was barely a whisper, and though part of me wanted to scream at her, to unleash all of the hurt I'd been carrying, something in her voice stopped me. The anger didn't completely leave me, but it softened, just a fraction.
"I loved him," I said, my voice breaking. "Why are you still with him?" I didn't wait for an answer. I couldn't bear to hear whatever she might say next. Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with that same stunned look on her face. I didn't know what I was hoping for when I confronted her, but nothing about this made me feel better. If anything, I felt even more shattered. As I walked away, trying to steady my breathing, I saw Lando out of the corner of my eye. He noticed me, of course he did. He always knew when something was wrong. But I ignored him and pushed my way back through the thrumming crowd, my heart still racing from the confrontation, I spotted Mila leaning against the bar, her brows knit together in concern. She must have seen the fire in my eyes when I had that exchange, because as soon as I approached, she was on me.
"What was that?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and worry. I forced a smile, trying to play it off like it was nothing, but the tension in my chest made it hard to breathe.
"Nothing," I replied, brushing it off like it was just a trivial moment. Mila wasn't buying it. She stepped closer, her gaze piercing.
"Bronte, you looked like you were about to set the place on fire. Seriously, what happened?" I sighed, looking around at our friends, all laughing and dancing without a care in the world. The weight of the earlier conversation still hung over me like a storm cloud, but I didn't want to drag anyone else into my chaos.
"Just... some girl," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. She crossed her arms, clearly not convinced.
"Some girl? That looked way more intense than just some girl." I shook my head, forcing a laugh to break the tension.
"Let's just focus on having fun tonight, okay? I don't want to ruin the vibe."
Mila studied me for a moment, her expression softening as she realised I wasn't ready to talk about it.
"Fine, but if you change your mind, I'm here." I nodded, grateful for her support, and we joined the rest of the group, trying to push the earlier encounter from my mind. The music pulsed around us, the laughter of our friends a temporary balm for the storm brewing inside me. Yet, even as I tried to immerse myself in the moment, the weight of my emotions lingered, a reminder that some hurt still lived deep inside of me.

The night stretched out before us like an endless adventure, the club pulsing with energy and light. I made an effort to shake off the earlier confrontation and dove headfirst into the fun. Mila and I danced wildly, the music wrapping around us like a warm embrace. We laughed and joked, losing ourselves in the rhythm and the shared joy of being alive. As we bounced between the dance floor and the bar, I could feel the friendship among our group growing stronger. Pierre, ever the jokester, pulled me into a ridiculous dance-off, and I couldn't help but join in, mimicking his exaggerated moves and making everyone roar with laughter. Mila rolled her eyes, trying to keep a straight face as she cheered us on, and for a moment, everything felt light and carefree. We ordered drinks, clinking our glasses together with exuberance, the bright colours of the cocktails a reflection of our moods. I felt a surge of happiness as I watched Mila and Pierre tease each other, their playful banter infectious. It was a reminder of how good it felt to be surrounded by people who truly cared, even if the shadows of my earlier confrontation loomed somewhere in the back of my mind. At one point, we all gathered on a plush couch, leaning in close as Pierre shared an embarrassing story about one of our mutual friends. Laughter erupted, filling the air and washing over me like a wave, momentarily drowning out any lingering thoughts of jealousy or hurt. At one point, Charles joined us, his presence like a magnet that pulled me in. He sat down beside me, flashing that trademark smirk that always made my heart skip a beat.
"Care to dance with the best-looking guy in the room?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes playfully.
"You're not even the best-looking guy at this table."
"Really?" he replied, feigning shock. "Because I was pretty sure I saw someone over there with a questionable haircut." I laughed, nudging him in the side.
"Touché." As the song shifted, Charles took my hand, pulling me close. We swayed gently, the world around us fading into a blur. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the beat of the music matching the rhythm of our hearts.
"You know," he said, leaning in slightly so I could hear him over the music, "I've been meaning to tell you something."
"What's that?" I asked, looking up at him, intrigued. He paused, his gaze locking onto mine, serious for a moment.
"I'm really proud of you. For everything you've done lately. The Vogue shoot, how you've handled all the craziness. You're incredible, Bronte." My breath caught in my throat, and a warmth spread through me.
"Thanks, Charles. That means a lot." He flashed a charming smile, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Just remember, when you're a huge superstar, I expect you to take me along for the ride."
"Oh, you wish!" I laughed, playfully rolling my eyes again. "But seriously, you'll always be my number one fan."
"Always," he replied, and with that, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. It was sweet and tender, grounding me amidst the chaos of the club. As we pulled away, I felt giddy, the weight of the earlier confrontation fading even further. We laughed, joking about our dance moves and the ridiculousness of the night, and in that moment, everything felt right. I was grateful for this connection, for how effortlessly we fit together. The music, the laughter, and the warmth of his presence made me forget about the troubles outside the club. Here, it was just us, lost in the moment, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world.