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Chapter Eight: The Party
The bass hit her before she even saw the door.
Maya's chest vibrated in time with it, the low thrum crawling into her ribs, shaking her from the inside out. She hesitated at the threshold, backpack clutched like a lifeline, and squinted into the neon-lit chaos spilling from the club's interior. The door behind her groaned as if warning her away, but there was no turning back. Not tonight.
Rhea's hand was warm, tight around hers, tugging her forward. "Come on," she shouted over the music, her grin sharp and irresistible. "You'll survive. Probably."
Maya swallowed, letting the pulse of the city wash over her—the scents of rain-damp concrete, frying oil, perfume, and a faint metallic tang that reminded her of the bus station near campus. It was disorienting, dizzying, but the warmth in Rhea's grip grounded her in a way that made her shiver—not from cold, but from something entirely different.
"You're quieter than usual," Rhea said, voice teasing as she led her through the throng of bodies. "Plotting something dangerous, aren't you?"
Maya shrugged, cheeks burning. "I… don't know. Maybe."
Rhea laughed, eyes flashing amber in the strobe light. "Good answer. I like it. Keep it."
The club was alive—people moving like waves, hands waving, voices rising and falling over the beat. Strobe lights splintered across faces, casting sharp shadows and neon streaks that made everyone look both unreal and too real at the same time. Maya felt herself shrinking in the middle of the crowd, her chest tight, her head swimming with sensory overload.
Rhea leaned closer, shouting in her ear. "Dance! Don't just stand there like a ghost!"
Maya's hands trembled. "I… I don't know how…"
"You can," Rhea shouted, tugging her forward, letting her body sway to the bass. The music rolled underfoot, vibrating into her skin. Maya stumbled at first, then laughed, clumsy and sharp, and gradually let herself move, small steps at first, then bigger, until she felt a rhythm she didn't even know she had.
They laughed together, stumbling into each other, breath mingling, hair brushing. Every accidental touch sent sparks through Maya, confusing and exhilarating all at once. Her heartbeat drummed faster than the music, faster than her careful thoughts could keep up with.
And then, from the corner of her eye…
Ezra.
He was leaning against the bar, arms crossed, watching. Not angry, not smiling, just watching. And every instinct in Maya screamed for her to shrink, to disappear, to melt into the crowd. She didn't.
Rhea noticed immediately, a small, sharp edge cutting through her grin. She nudged Maya's shoulder. "Ignore him. I've got you."
Maya wanted to believe that. She tried. But Ezra's gaze felt like gravity, pulling her back, measuring her in ways she couldn't articulate.
"Why is he here?" Maya muttered, almost to herself.
"Because he's complicated," Rhea said simply, guiding her into a tighter circle of dancing bodies. "He always is."
They found a slightly quieter corner near the cracked neon window, pressed against the wall, the city lights casting splintered patterns on their faces. Maya tried to steady her breathing. Her head spun with lights, bass, heat, and the scent of Rhea, citrus and rain, tangled into something she couldn't name.
"You're holding back," Rhea said, eyes locking onto hers.
"I… I don't know how," Maya admitted. Her voice trembled.
"Then try," Rhea whispered. And it wasn't a dare, not exactly—it was a promise, a challenge, a pull she couldn't resist.
Maya's hands shook as they brushed, lingering longer than necessary. Every touch was electric. She leaned in slightly, testing the gravity, the risk, the thrill. Rhea leaned closer too, amber eyes glinting in the neon, a playful spark that made Maya's stomach flip.
They danced closer now, swaying almost in sync, laughter spilling over the music. The world felt impossibly large and impossibly small at once. Every glance, every brush of skin, every heartbeat seemed magnified.
Ezra's eyes never left her, just at the edge of her awareness, a reminder that the triangle wasn't gone, that stakes were higher than the music, higher than the thrill. Maya felt fear. She felt excitement. She felt every emotion at once, messy and confusing, and she realized she liked it, even if it terrified her.
Rhea leaned forward, her voice brushing Maya's ear. "You're doing great. Better than you think."
Maya laughed, breathless, leaning into Rhea without thinking. "I… I think I'm going to faint."
"Good," Rhea said softly. "Then I'll catch you."
The words sent heat rushing through Maya, warmth that made her forget about everything else—the music, the crowd, even Ezra watching from the shadows. Her head tilted slightly, and for a heartbeat, the chaos melted away.
They danced, stumbled, laughed, leaned into each other. The crowd blurred around them. Maya realized she hadn't felt this alive in months—maybe ever. She was dizzy, exhilarated, and terrified. She was seen, truly seen, and it was intoxicating.
"Stay with me," Rhea whispered, just loud enough for Maya to hear.
"I… I will," Maya said, though her voice was small.
Rhea's hand found hers again, fingers curling naturally. Maya didn't pull away. She let herself melt into the warmth, into the chaos, into the firelight and the music.
Ezra's gaze lingered, dark and unreadable, but for now, it was just a shadow behind the thrill. The night belonged to Maya and Rhea—for now.
And somewhere deep inside, Maya knew: this was only the beginning.
The fire had been lit.
And it was going to burn.