𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟒𝟒. 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐜 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

The club was a hazy labyrinth of neon lights and dense, throbbing sound. Drew leaned against the railing of the VIP section, half-listening to Madelyn as she chatted beside him, his gaze skimming the crowd, the restless sea of bodies moving to the beat. He'd come to celebrate the OBX season, to play the part of the friend who'd moved on. But being here, in the noisy, glittering chaos, it felt hollow.

And then, like a mirage in the crowd, he saw her.

Suki Monroe. Her silhouette was unmistakable, a ghost wrapped in light, cutting through the shifting shadows on the dance floor. She looked ethereal, as if she'd stepped out of a dream he'd been having for months but could never quite remember in the morning. Under the pulsing red strobes, her hair shimmered, her eyes closed as she threw her head back, lost in the rhythm of the music. And for a heartbeat, he thought she looked happy—really happy, like she was untouchable.

Then he saw him.

JD was beside her, grinning down as he leaned in close, one hand reaching out to steady her as she laughed, a sound Drew hadn't heard in what felt like forever. In that instant, jealousy tore through him like a shot of fire, fierce and unrelenting. He didn't want to think, didn't want to wonder if Suki had been happier without him all along. But the sight of her, carefree in JD's orbit, made his heart clench with something far darker.

The thought raced through his mind, brutal and raw: I should hit him. JD, his best friend, standing there with her like he belonged beside her, touching her like it was a privilege he could just claim. Drew's fists tightened involuntarily, his jaw clenched. The urge was almost instinctual—to shove JD aside and make Suki look at him, just him, until she saw him the way she used to, until she remembered that she was supposed to love him.

The ache settled somewhere deep as he watched, feeling helpless and angry and desperate, like he was the one who'd lost his place. He couldn't stop the thoughts swirling, couldn't ignore the familiar pulse of jealousy clouding his mind. Drew wanted to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, to kiss her until all of this—whatever was left between them—finally made sense again.

Drew swallowed hard, frozen as he watched her from across the room. It had been a year—a whole year of chasing distractions, trying to drown memories of her in scripts, in the forced laughter of his friends, in the comfort of quiet Carolina sunsets. But here she was, so close he could almost feel the warmth of her, and he knew there'd been no forgetting her, not really. Because the sight of her, the pure pull of her presence, still felt as natural as breathing.

But then, she caught sight of him.

Their eyes locked, and he saw the flash of recognition, saw her face falter, a single tear slipping down her cheek, illuminated for an instant in the glow of the red lights. She looked away quickly, breaking the moment, but he could feel it—the thread of connection that had never truly snapped. It pulled at him, tugging him forward, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was weaving through the crowd, pushing past groups of people, his eyes trained on her.

"Suki—" he called, but his voice was lost in the music, drowned out by the pounding bass and shrill laughter all around.

She moved through the crowd faster, her hands reaching back to push people aside, as if she were running from something, maybe someone. He followed her into the darkened hallway by the back exit, where the noise faded to a muffled hum, replaced by the sound of her heels clicking against the polished floor. He could see her silhouette there, at the end of the hall, framed by the neon "EXIT" sign glowing red above her, casting a halo of light around her as she threw open the door and stepped out into the cold night air.

Drew pushed through the door right behind her, bursting into the parking lot just as she was stepping into a sleek black sprinter car, the driver already starting the engine. His breath plumed in the chilly night as he stumbled forward, hands outstretched.