Swamp Murder

Swamp murder. 21

Zhan's POV

"I'm sorry," Wang said after a long, heavy silence. His voice was low, almost unsure. "I didn't mean to—" He gestured vaguely with his hand, motioning between us, between what just happened.

My heart cracked, but I kept my expression neutral. I refused to let him see how much that hurt.

"It's not a big deal," I said, inhaling sharply. Then, without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the restroom, leaving him there.

The second the door swung shut behind me, I bit back the sting in my eyes. My throat felt tight, and dry, like it was closing in on itself. It wasn't a big deal, I repeated in my head, trying to convince myself. But it was a lie.

It was a big deal.

I had never kissed anyone before. Not like that. Not for real. And Wang—he was my first. And it had felt so much better than I had ever imagined.

For a fleeting moment, I had let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he wanted it too. That he wanted me. But now, standing here, blinking back the burn of disappointment, I knew better.

I forced myself to push it aside. To shake it off. I had a job to do.

Straightening my posture, I walked back onto the floor, slipping seamlessly into work mode. The music pounded, the lights flashing in a dizzying rhythm, and I made my way to the VIP section, picking up a tray and returning to the table I was serving and I saw Wang sitting there.

I served their drinks, avoiding his eyes, pretending like nothing had happened. I refused to let him see that I felt terrible about what he had done to me.

I refused to let him know that he had ruined me with just one kiss.

As I moved through the club, I reached Dre's table next, stacking empty bottles and gathering scattered glasses. He was watching me, but this time, his usual smug smirk wasn't there. Instead, he gave me a small, genuine smile.

And for some reason, that made me feel relieved.

"I'll wait for you," Dre said simply.

I nodded. I didn't care about anything else right now. I just needed the money.

The rest of the night blurred into routine. Serve drinks. Collect empty glasses. Avoid Wang's gaze. Repeat.

Every time I walked past his table, I felt his eyes on me. I pretended not to notice. I pretended it didn't affect me. But my heart was still racing from that kiss, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, my lips still tingled from the way he had kissed me back.

The way he had held me.

But then he apologized.

Like it was some mistake. Like I didn't matter.

I clenched my fists, pushing the thought away as I made my way toward Dre's table again. The music had died down, and the place was empty. Bottles and cigarette butts littered the tables. I exhaled, feeling the weight of the night settle over me.

He was leaning back in his chair, swirling a glass of whiskey between his fingers, watching me with the same lazy amusement he always had. But there was something else in his eyes tonight—something calculated.

"You ready to go?" he asked, voice smooth.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." He smirked, tossing back the rest of his drink before standing up. "Let's get out of here."