The music filled the club, heavy, thick bass vibrating in the floorboards as Ava leaned against the bar, a little unsteady on her feet. Her vision was dull from the drinks she had already consumed; she was high, but the warmth in her chest made her feel bolder than usual. Sophie and Grace had disappeared back to the dance floor, leaving her alone with her thoughts and with her empty glass.
She waved at the bartender, signaling for another drink. He hesitated, glancing at her red cheeks, but she gave him a smile that was equal pleading.
Before the glass could touch the counter, a deep voice cut in.
"Are you planning to commit suicide with alcohol, or do you want to pass out before you leave this club?
Ava turned, startled, and found herself looking at a man who seemed too handsome to be real ( in her head ). He is too handsome. For a moment, she thought maybe she was imagining him; the alcohol was messing with her brain.
Damian.
Up close, he looked even better than when she first spotted him from afar. Tall, easily over six feet, he wasn't bulky. just the lean muscle of someone who works out occasionally. His broad shoulders stretched the dark fabric of his tailored shirt, while the first two buttons left open at his collar revealed a glimpse of his strong chest. His jawline was sharp, dusted with the faintest stubble, and his lips God, his lips looks inviting, hmmm, she wishes they could trail a kiss on her neck, lawd, she is overthinking the situation, or maybe she is high.
But it was his eyes that froze her. Piercing blue, the kind of blue that reminded her of the ocean, cold, commanding, yet hypnotic.
She blinked at him, clutching the edge of the barstool for balance. "Excuse me?"
"I asked," he said, his tone dry, "if you were planning to drown yourself in vodka. Because from the way you're ordering, it looks less like fun and more like a death wish."
Instead of replying, Ava let out a laugh. It surprised even her, light, almost teasing. Alcohol had stripped away her usual shyness, leaving her reckless, almost flirty.
"Well," she said, twirling the empty straw between her fingers," hmm, if I were planning that, I wouldn't exactly be doing it in a club full of people, would I?"
Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting her to fire back so boldly. His gaze swept over her petite frame, her wide eyes shining under the lights, her hair tumoring over her shoulders. She looked too delicate, too innocent to belong in a place like this. And yet, there was something in her smile right now that made him feel a bit better.
Most women who approached him or whom he approached were predictable. They batted lashes, leaned close, played the part of seduction. But this girl? She was different. Tipsy, yes, maybe even a little reckless, but the spark in her tone was disarming.
"Smart answer," he said finally, leaning an elbow against the bar. "But maybe you should slow down before you make the bartender an accomplice to your so-called genius plan, or do you want him to get arrested if anything happens to you?"
Ava tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him in mock suspicion. "Why do you care? You don't even know me."
Damian smirked. "Maybe I'm a good citizen. Doing my civic duty."
"Or maybe," Ava shot back, leaning closer until her perfume mixed with the scent of his cologne, "you're just bored or you're trying to get into a stranger's pants."
Her own boldness startled her. Normally, she would never have said that to a man like him, a man who looked like he belonged on magazine covers, with women lined up just to be noticed. But tonight, she feels fearless and less concerned about the ache in her heart from heartbreak, the alcohol running through her veins, pushing her to be reckless.
Damian smiled, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes. He hadn't expected this. She was drunk, yes, but there was a sharpness in her words, a hint of unfiltered honesty.
"Your pants?" he repeated, his voice dropping lower. "You think that's why I'm talking to you?"
Ava shrugged, playing with the straw between her fingers. "Men like you," she gestured vaguely at his expensive clothes, his perfect everything," you don't just walk up to girls like me for no reason, don't you want to screw me?"For the first time in a long while, Damian found himself at a loss for words. She wasn't wrong. Usually, he didn't waste time unless he had a purpose. But something had pulled him toward her, something beyond quick sex. so unlike the carefully polished women he was used to. Maybe it's his hormones, or he's just attracted to her.
Whatever it was, he couldn't look away.
"You'd be surprised," he said finally, his tone softer now.
Ava laughed again, though it cracked just slightly at the edges. She grabbed the fresh drink the bartender placed in front of her and lifted it toward him like a mock toast. "Well, mystery man, cheers to surprising things."
Damian reached out before she could sip, his fingers brushing the rim of the glass. The contact was brief, but it sent an unexpected shock through her. "Not that one," he said firmly. "You've had enough."
Her lips parted in protest, but the seriousness in his gaze made her pause. And for the first time that night, she didn't argue because she was already high.
Instead, she set the glass down, her heartbeat sped up beneath the weight of his eyes.