The low, pulsing thump of bass reverberated through the ballroom floor, each beat like a tremor traveling up Marin's legs. She sat on a narrow upholstered chair near the drink counter, her knees pressed close together, her back only halfway touching the rest. The party had been going for more than an hour, and though the crowd had grown denser, her sense of belonging hadn't.
Everywhere, people moved—drifting, swaying, laughing in quick bursts. The air was thick with perfume and cologne, underscored by the faintly sour smell of overheated bodies, layers of deodorant and sweat blending with the sugary tang of the cocktails at the counter. The overhead lights were dimmed to a warm amber glow, but colored spotlights swept slowly across the walls, sometimes washing the room in red, other times in electric blue.
The girls who had brought her—Kathie, Kendra, and two others—had vanished almost immediately after their arrival. They'd stayed long enough to grab drinks, Kathie offered her a brief smile over her shoulders, then melted into the tide of people like it was nothing. Marin suspected they thought they were doing her a kindness, letting her "settle in" without their shadow, but their absence made the vastness of the room feel even more exposed.
She wrapped her fingers more tightly around the cold can in her hand. At least it was something familiar—a lemon-lime soda, fizzy and harmless. She'd been relieved to spot it in rows on another counter when so many of the other drinks looked like trouble in glittering glassware. The carbonation stung her throat slightly as she took a slow sip, eyes flicking down on her wristwatch.
8:20 PM.
Her phone, already on low battery when she boarded the bus, had given up entirely within minutes of arriving at the hotel. She felt the dead weight of it in her pocket—a black mirror that she could neither use to answer calls nor give her an excuse to look busy.
Kant was going to be upset because she let it happen. She also knew he would be furious if she cut the time close, but she had no intention of giving him that satisfaction. She'd promised she would be back before nine, and she was determined to make good on that.
Without the phone to get across, the wrist watch's hands towards nine seemed slower in her head.
A ripple of laughter from somewhere to her right drew her gaze—and there he was.
Roy.
The sight of him was like catching a spark in the corner of her vision. He was leaning casually against a doorframe near the entrance, his posture as effortless as his smile. The warm lighting caught in his hair and traced the outline of his jaw. He was surrounded by a half-circle of people—mostly girls—but somehow he didn't seem trapped by them, more like he was the quiet center of their orbit.
Marin's pulse skipped. She'd spotted him earlier, when she'd trailed behind Kathie and the others into the hall. They'd conversed with him easily, like they'd known him for years. He'd looked at her then, just briefly, before turning back to the chatter. The glance had lasted less than two seconds, but it had been long enough for Kathie to send her a subtle nudge, an almost imperceptible encouragement to speak up.
She hadn't responded but more like,she chickened out.
Now, she watched him from her seat, every detail too vivid—the way his shirt, a rich red, fit across his shoulders, the easy way he tilted his head when someone spoke to him. Her fingers tightened around the drink.
Few minutes later, she returned to her normal posture of scrutinizing the entire party, already deciding that no one would want to walk up and talk to her but she noticed their stares as they passed by, gaving away that they were stunned to see the mayor's daughter here. To be honest with herself, she was too.
"Hey."
Shortly after, a voice came from right beside her, low and smooth, threaded with an ease she could never imitate. She turned quickly—and found herself looking straight into a pair of grey eyes.
Her breath caught.
Roy.
Up close, he seemed taller, the lines of his face sharper. The red shirt was even more striking now, the fabric clinging to his toned body just enough to suggest the strength beneath it.
"I'm Roy," he said, like he wasn't already the most recognizable person in the room.
Although she knew his name, she let her eyes widen in feigned surprise.
"And you are…?"
"Marin." She replied.
He nodded slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Do you still turn in projects late?"
The question made her blink—then the memory clicked into place. Months ago, a class project had nearly been a disaster. She'd been swamped, away for one of their father's many political conferences with Kant which lasted for two days, and by the time she and Kant returned on that sunday evening , the deadline was looming over her like a falling blade. However, the universe's luck shined on her, Roy—without her even asking—had stepped in to help her finish it before the end of the school day.
She'd thanked him afterward. He'd shrugged it off. "I'd have done it for anyone," he'd said, but what dazzled her was that, no one else had even noticed she was struggling or they pretended not to.
"No," she said now, letting a small smirk play at her lips. "Not anymore."
He chuckled softly, and for a moment, she felt almost at ease.
"I heard you're head of a new group for a new project," he continued. "Kathie told me. I don't have a group yet—wondered if yours was full."
His tone was polite, almost formal, as though they'd never worked together before. It made her heart beat strangely fast.
"It's not full," she said quickly. "I can put your name on the list next week."
"That'd be cool," he said, smiling again. Then his expression shifted, his voice softening. "First time at a party like this?"
Her breath stalled for half a second. She could lie—but something about the way he asked, the slight tilt of his head, told her he already knew.
"Yes," she admitted.
"I thought so." His smile was more knowing this time, but not unkind.
The conversation unfolded from there, surprisingly easy, threaded with quiet jokes that made her laugh in ways she hadn't expected to tonight. He didn't dominate the space the way some boys did; instead, he seemed genuinely interested in her answers, leaning slightly closer whenever she spoke, as if the music made it impossible to hear her without doing so.
Time began to dissolve. She forgot the ticking in her head, forgot the dead phone in her pocket. She laughed more than she'd intended to, felt warmth creep up her neck at the way his eyes lingered on her when she spoke.
When Kathie and Kendra reappeared, their arrival was abrupt—a burst of voices slicing through the bubble Roy had built around her.
"Looks like you two are having more fun than we are," Kathie teased with a wide grin.
Marin's gaze dropped automatically to her watch.
8:43 PM.
Her stomach flipped.
"I have to go," she blurted, pushing herself up from the chair so quickly the can nearly slipped from her fingers.
The three of them looked at her, surprise flickering between them.
Roy tilted his head. "The rooms here are pretty nice, if you want to wait it out. Party's going till dawn, and you know—the curfew." His eyes held hers for a moment longer than was comfortable. "You didn't know?"
Marin's gaze darted to Kathie, searching her face.
Kathie's lips pressed together. "Didn't think it was a big deal," she murmured.
Kendra snorted. "Don't look at her like she dragged you here. No one forced you."
Marin straightened, the back of her neck prickling. "It doesn't matter. I really have to go."
She'd just started walking out when Roy's hand closed gently but firmly around her wrist.
"You're not staying?" He asked, his voice low enough that it barely carried over the music.
"I can't," she said, tugging lightly against his grip.
His fingers loosened. "Alright," he murmured, something unreadable in his eyes.
She pulled free and turned, the noise of the party already beginning to fade behind her as she wove towards the exit.