Beneath Her Smile

1.

The pulsing beat of the music thrummed in Noah's chest as he stepped into the dimly lit club. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and an intoxicating blend of perfumes. It was loud, chaotic, and everything he needed tonight. After a week spent drowning in memories of Celine, he had finally surrendered to his friends' persistent invitations. They'd insisted he needed a night out, a break from his self-imposed isolation.

"Just one drink, Noah," Lucas had said, his voice a mix of concern and camaraderie. "You can't keep moping around. You need to live a little."

Noah had agreed reluctantly, but as he leaned against the bar, nursing a vodka soda that tasted more like sugar than alcohol, he felt the walls of grief closing in around him. He glanced at the dance floor, where bodies swayed and laughed, lost in the rhythm of the night. It felt foreign, almost alien to him. A part of him wanted to be out there, to feel free, but another part was anchored to the painful reality of his loss.

"Hey, man, loosen up!" shouted Ethan, his best friend, as he draped an arm around Noah's shoulders. "You're looking like someone just stomped on your puppy."

Noah forced a smile, but it faltered as memories of Celine swirled in his mind. Her laughter, her smile, the way she would dance around their apartment, filling it with life. It had been five months since she had been taken from him, and the ache in his chest felt as fresh as it had the day he'd learned of her death.

"Maybe I should just go home," Noah muttered, glancing toward the exit. The idea of retreating to the quiet of his room was tempting.

"Not a chance," Lucas interjected, pushing a shot of tequila toward him. "Drink up. It'll help, I promise."

Reluctantly, Noah took the shot and felt the burn as it slid down his throat. It was almost a relief, a momentary escape from the weight of his grief. He downed another drink, then another, feeling himself begin to float in the haze of alcohol.

As the night wore on, he allowed himself to be swept along by the energy of his friends, laughing and dancing, the world spinning in a blur of lights and sounds. With each drink, the memories of Celine faded into the background, allowing him to breathe again, if only for a moment.

It was then, in the midst of his distraction, that it happened. A figure bumped into him, sending his drink spilling across the floor. He turned, ready to retort, when he was met with the sight of a woman. Her wide eyes reflected surprise, framed by wavy chestnut hair that caught the dim light, cascading down her shoulders.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her voice sweet and melodic, cutting through the noise. "I didn't mean to—"

Noah stared, momentarily taken aback. There was something familiar about her, but the alcohol clouded his memory. "It's fine," he said, shaking his head, attempting to brush it off. "Really, no harm done."

Vivienne smiled, a warm and inviting smile that somehow put him at ease. "I'm Vivienne Sinclair. I don't think we've met before," she said, extending a hand toward him.

"Noah Grant," he replied, shaking her hand. There was a brief spark of connection, and it startled him. "I... I think I've seen you around campus, maybe?"

"Yeah, I'm in med school," she said, her eyes glinting with interest. "I usually study in the library. You're an aeronautical engineering student, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." He was impressed. Not only did she know him, but she seemed genuinely interested. "How did you know?"

She shrugged, her expression playful. "I have my sources. Plus, I've seen you a few times. You always look so focused."