Dancing with a stranger

Chapter |2✨

By the time I got home, it was 1:45 p.m. Grace was at work, so the house sat in a heavy, waiting silence. I dropped my gym bag by the door and headed straight for the shower.

The hot water hit my skin, and for a second, it felt like a reset. Like I could rinse off the weight of the morning.

Steam filled the bathroom. The adrenaline from my workout still buzzed in my veins, but once I was alone—truly alone—the rest crept back in. My birthday. The past. The constant feeling of being stuck in something I couldn't see but couldn't escape either.

And then the memories.

Luca being dragged out of the house.

My mother's laughter—bright and warm—twisted into a distant echo.

I shut my eyes and forced myself to focus on the water, on the heat, on the present. I wouldn't let today spiral. Not today.

When I finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, I felt steadier. Not fixed. Just steadier.

Grace would text later—she always did. Some dramatic "surprise" I'd pretend to complain about but secretly appreciate. She had a way of pulling me back into the world when I wanted to hide from it.

Maybe I needed that.

⸻

The afternoon drifted by in a blur of pizza rolls, sweet tea, and reruns of The Office. I let the theme song wash over me like background noise therapy. Michael Scott's chaos was easier to process than my own.

Downstairs, my dad's footsteps echoed through the house. Heavy. Deliberate. The study door closed—the sound sharp and final.

Don't disturb.

I didn't need to be told.

By the time Grace arrived to get ready, the quiet had started pressing in on me again.

⸻

Ten minutes of destroying my closet later, I found it—the silver, sparkly body-con dress with the dramatic neck ruff. Bold. Unapologetic. Not the kind of dress someone trying to disappear would wear.

Perfect.

I curled my long brown hair into soft waves, each section taking longer than it should. Grace appeared in the doorway like she belonged on a magazine cover—deep green velvet dress, gold heels, sleek bun.

"You look insane," she said, grinning.

"So do you."

For once, I almost felt like the version of myself people expected to see.

⸻

Dinner was tacos at the little Mexican grill my dad used to take me to. The familiar smell of cilantro and sizzling meat wrapped around me like nostalgia. For a little while, it was just us—chips, salsa, easy laughter.

It helped.

But once we pulled up to the bar downtown, that nervous energy returned.

The music was already vibrating through the walls when we got out of the car. Charlie waved from outside, already in full party mode. We joined the group, stepping into flashing lights and bass-heavy music that thudded straight through my chest.

Grace was right.

This was what I needed.

I drank half my cocktail and let myself disappear into the dance floor. The music drowned out everything. My thoughts. My past. My birthday.

Then I felt it.

That shift.

The awareness of being watched.

I turned slowly—and there he was. The guy from earlier. Leaning against the bar, arms crossed, posture loose but eyes sharp. Locked on me.

He didn't look away when I caught him.

He smirked.

Something about it unsettled me—not flirtatious. Not harmless.

Calculated.

I held his gaze for half a second longer than necessary, then turned back to the music.

I told myself I was imagining it.

⸻

By 2 a.m., my feet were screaming and the energy had dipped. I found Grace near the bar, cheeks flushed, laughing at something someone said.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The air outside was cool and quiet. Too quiet.

The streetlights flickered faintly. Shadows stretched long across the pavement.

And that feeling came back—stronger this time.

I didn't say anything, just quickened my pace toward the car.

My fingers had just brushed the door handle when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

Instinct took over.

I spun, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard. His body folded forward as I pivoted, using his momentum against him. My knee slammed into the back of his leg and he hit the pavement with a grunt.

Training. Muscle memory. No hesitation.

I stood over him, breath steady but pulse pounding.

Across the parking lot, another body hit the ground.

Grace.

She stood over her attacker like she'd done it a hundred times.

The man beneath me tried to scramble up. I grabbed his collar and hauled him just high enough so he could hear me.

"Who sent you?" My voice was low. Controlled.

He didn't answer.

Of course he didn't.

I leaned closer. "Tell James nice try. But next time, he'd better send someone competent."

Recognition flickered in his eyes.

That was answer enough.

I shoved him back down and stepped away.

"Let's go," I told Grace.

We didn't run. We didn't look back.

The engine roared to life, and I pulled out fast—but controlled.

Only once we were several blocks away did I let myself exhale.

The night wasn't random.

It wasn't coincidence.

And the guy at the bar?

He hadn't just been watching me.

He'd been waiting

EDIT:3/22/25
:2/23/26