Carmen was already at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and pretending not to stare when Elena walked back in.
Elena tried to pass through like she hadn't just been outside, staring at a message that made her body buzz in a way she wasn't proud of.
Didn't work.
Carmen narrowed her eyes.
"You're doing the thing."
Elena dropped her phone on the counter. "What thing?"
"The thing where your face goes all blank because your brain is on fire."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
Elena opened the fridge, closed it without taking anything out.
Carmen kept watching.
"You got a message."
"Yep."
"From him?"
Elena didn't answer.
Carmen leaned forward, mug in both hands.
"Did he ask you to meet him or join a cult?"
Elena exhaled hard through her nose. "He said 'Tonight. Wear black."
Carmen blinked.
"Okay, that's either a date or a murder."
"I'm not going."
"But you're thinking about going."
Elena shot her a look.
Carmen raised her eyebrows.
"I know that look. That's the 'I hate how much i want to say yes' face. It's right up there with the 'Carmen don't make me talk about this or i'll actually explode' face.
"I just..." Elena trailed off.
"It's probably nothing."
"Yeah," Carmen said, standing up and walking toward her.
"Nothing that made you change your entire body language in 0.5 seconds."
She grabbed Elena's shoulders gently.
"You don't have to go. But if you do? Own it. No games. No pretending you're not curious."
Elena stared at the floor for a second.
"Why does it feel so ridiculous?"
Carmen let go, walked toward the hallway.
"Because it's dangerous. And hot. And mysterious. And you don't do things like this, Lanes."
She grinned.
"But maybe tonight you do."
Carmen didn't give her a choice.
The second Elena even hinted that she might go, Carmen grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall like they were late for a party.
"Nothing slutty," Elena warned, tugging back half-heartedly.
"Relax," Carmen said. "I know exactly how to dress you for a man who might be dangerous but also probably wants to pin you to a wall."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
They burst into Carmen's room—clothes already flying out the closet, shoes kicked aside.
Elena stood there with her arms crossed, trying to look like this was beneath her.
It wasn't.
Carmen threw a black slip dress onto the bed. Then a tighter, cropped long-sleeve top and sleek jeans beside it.
"Soft and tempting," she said, pointing at the dress.
"Sharp and in control," she said gesturing to the jeans.
Elena stared at them like they were landmines.
Carmen grinned.
"What's the vibe tonight? 'Oops, did i just make you fall in love?' or 'You're lucky i showed up at all'?"
Elena sighed and reached for the jeans.
"Thought so," Carmen said, smug.
"And boots," Elena added, already pulling her shirt off. "If i'm going into the lion's den, i'm not doing it in heels."
Carmen raised her glass of wine like a toast.
"To good choices and bad decisions."
After doing one more check-up, Elena stood at the door. Jacket in hand, boots on, keys clenched tighter than she needed to.
The house was still behind her, Carmen leaning against the kitchen archway with a half-empty glass of wine, barefoot watching her like she was studying something she couldn't name.
"You look like you're going to a negotiation," carmen said finally.
"Maybe i am."
They were quiet for a second.
The kind of silence that usually came after something had broken—but tonight, it felt like something was about to begin.
Carmen stepped closer.
She didn't say be careful. Didn't ask for the details.
She just touched Elena's arm, light.
"You're not the kind of girl who lets a man lead," she said softly.
"Just remember that, even when it feels like you want to."
Elena nodded once.
Didn't trust herself to say anything.
She reached for the handle.
"Lanes."
She turned.
Carmen smiled, crooked and warm.
"Wreck him. Or don't. Just don't let him wreck you."
The door clicked shut behind her.
The night was cooler than she expected.
Elena stepped onto the porch, zipped her jacket halfway, and stood there for a second—
just long enough to feel stupid.
For the outfit.
For the keys
For all of it.
The Mustang waited in the driveway, low and dark and silent like it knew what she was walking into better than she did.
She slid in without fanfare.
Turned the key.
Engine purred to life.
She backed out, headlights sweeping across the front of the house. Carmen hadn't come to the window. She was giving her space.
Elena didn't know if the was grateful of irritated by that.
The drive started easy.
Streetlights passed.
Shadows flickered in corners.
Her grip on the wheel stayed tight.
Halfway across town, the thoughts got louder.
What the fuck am i even doing?
She had no idea where this night was going.
No address. No follow-up text. Just that message and her own stupid curiosity leading her forward.
And she hated it.
She hated the idea of showing up and finding nothing.
She hated it even more if he was actually there.
The next red light hit her like a checkpoint.
She stared straight ahead.
Then made a sharp turn.
The tires gritted against the pavement.
She didn't care.
She was going home.
This was insane.
She wasn't doing this.
The road narrowed—residential, quiet.
She glanced at her mirror, adjusting her jacket over her shoulder.
When she looked up—
A figure stepped into the street.