"Vodka and Old Memories——some memories burn slower than the vodka that sparked them."
Back at the booth, Soirée had gotten louder. More people. More drinks. More games. But Celeste's gaze kept drifting toward the door.
Nolan was gone.
"Where's Nolan?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"Upstairs with Jett," someone said. "He heard you were drunk."
"Drunk? Please. I'm fine."
While the crowd played and shouted, Celeste slipped out the side door.
She took the back stairs up.
The Moon Room was quieter. Softer. A warm glow lit the bar where Nolan and Jett sat, clinking glasses. A bottle of imported vodka stood between them.
Jett noticed her first. "Celeste! Finally decided to grace us? Want something strong?"
"Only if you're sharing the good stuff," she said, leaning in between them.
"You can have anything. It's vodka from Canada," Jett said, pouring her a glass. Nolan watched her carefully, expression unreadable.
Celeste was already a little tipsy—nothing dramatic, just that gentle flush of warmth in her cheeks and a hint of boldness in her tone. She'd had a few drinks, sure, but the moment she heard it was vodka, her eyes sparkled with interest. Not because she hadn't had good liquor before, but because… it was Nolan who brought it.
She narrowed her eyes playfully, lips curving into a pout. "Something sweet, please," she said, turning to the bartender. "Can you make me a Long Island Iced Tea with this vodka? Thanks."
Jett raised his brows with a grin. "Damn, Miss Celeste's going straight for the heavy hitters now."
She narrowed her eyes playfully, lips curving into a pout. "Something sweet, please," she said, turning to the bartender. "Can you make me a Long Island Iced Tea with this vodka? Thanks."
Jett raised his brows with a grin. "Damn, Miss Celeste's going straight for the heavy hitters now."
A few more drinks in, Jett was all loosened up, his usual sharp tone mellowed by alcohol. He started rambling stories from when he and Celeste were kids, lounging in his seat with a lazy arm slung over the backrest, swirling his drink like he owned the night.
"She was born lucky. He made sure she stayed that way"
"You know," he said, voice drawling, "the year she was born, my mom made me hold her. I was barely walking—just a wobbling little mess."
Celeste cut in fast, mock-glaring. "No, no, no—tell it right. Your parents brought in that fortune-teller who said I was born with open palms—'hands that attract wealth and blessings' or something like that. You holding me meant—"
"Boom. Jackpot." Jett laughed. "The family accounts blew up that year. Money pouring in like rain."
He leaned forward, glass catching the light. "You know what this lounge is called? Moon Room. Not a coincidence—your name has 'moon' in it."
Celeste rolled her eyes. "Oh please. It's because the roof opens on clear nights. You can literally see the stars. And by the way—remember to give me equity."
She shot Nolan a look, as if to say don't believe a word of this. But Nolan just smiled quietly, eyes never leaving her.
"She used to beg to ride horses," Jett went on. "But she was too little, so she treated the dogs like ponies."
Nolan listened intently. He'd never seen this version of her before—not the poised Coach Girl or the polished socialite—but a muddy-kneed little girl with wild eyes and a loud laugh.
"And didn't she stab a hole in the wall once? With the fencing sword?" Nolan asked.
Celeste flushed. "Hey! Can we not have a childhood-embarrassment night?"
"We could," Jett teased. "I have enough material for a whole press conference."
Celeste rolled her eyes dramatically. "Changing the topic. Did you at least send Leah a breakup gift?"
"Probably. LV? Dior? Whatever she picked out herself." Jett rubbed at his temples like he was already regretting bringing it up.
Celeste raised her brows. "Wrong choice, clearly. She was still stirring things up with Muriel just now. I nearly grabbed her by the hair—"
Nolan's fingers brushed the rim of his glass, hiding a smile. It wasn't just the vodka tonight that had heat blooming in his chest.
They talked. Laughed. Childhood stories came up—Celeste's kung fu mishaps, horseback games, sword drills.
Nolan had never seen this side of her. Not the fierce team leader. Not the dazzling socialite. But the girl who once rode her dog like a pony.
She was radiant.
They teased. Jett joked. She rolled her eyes and threw sass back.
Then she offered Nolan her drink.
"Hey," he said softly, "didn't you say if I behaved tonight, I could have an extra sip?"
He took her glass.
And drank from it.
The room didn't tilt. But her heart did.
Celeste looked away. Then smiled. That soft kind of smile you give when something inside you shifts.
For the first time, she wasn't sure if she could read him. And that scared her.
Too many boys liked her.
But he didn't seem to be just another boy.
She took a sip and whispered, "Great vodka... but don't overdrink, hmm?"
Outside, snow began to fall. Inside, the lights glowed gold and the air smelled faintly of citrus and vodka.
————————————————————————————————
Three friends, one winter night, and a moment frozen in time.
Years later, Celeste and Nolan would still remember this night.
The night that didn't begin with a plan, but changed everything.