The thumping bass of the DJ's set seemed to pulse in time with the frantic, jealous beat of Selene's heart. Each colorful, rum-soaked drink Eliza handed her was another log on the fire, fueling a reckless, desperate energy. The image of that unknown woman's hand on Lyra's waist played on a loop in her mind, each repetition eroding her inhibitions a little more. She wasn't having fun; she was performing it, a loud, laughing, dancing performance meant to prove to everyone, especially herself, that she was perfectly fine.
But as the night deepened and the alcohol truly took hold, the performance began to crumble. Her laughter became too loud, her movements uncoordinated. She stumbled against Eliza, who was now less a party companion and more a frustrated caretaker.
"Selene, I think you've had enough," Eliza said, trying to steer her toward a quieter spot. "Let's get you some water."
But Selene shrugged her off, a maelstrom of liquid courage and raw hurt swirling inside her. Her blurry gaze scanned the dancing crowd, searching for a familiar face. Then she saw her. Lyra was still there, talking with the slender woman by the edge of the party, away from the worst of the noise. The sight was a match to gasoline.
Before Eliza could stop her, Selene weaved unsteadily through the mass of bodies, making a beeline for the DJ booth. The world tilted on its axis, but her mission was clear.
"I need the mic," she slurred to the surprised DJ.
"Uh, I don't think" he started, but Selene simply reached out and plucked the microphone from its stand with a drunken confidence.
The feedback screeched, cutting through the music and drawing every eye on the dance floor. Selene blinked, swaying slightly under the sudden spotlight.
"'Scuse me... hello?" her voice, amplified and slurred, echoed across the cove. A few people laughed, thinking it was part of the act.
Then she spoke again, her words a desperate, public plea. "This is... this is for the librarian. Lyra? Lyra Celestine. Wherever you are... please. Please talk to me. Meet me... meet me beside the tiki bar. Please."
She dropped the microphone. It hit the deck with a thud and another burst of feedback. For a second, there was silence, then the crowd erupted into a mix of confused laughter, cheers, and excited murmurs. "Who's Lyra?" "A librarian?" "This party just got interesting!"
Eliza, who had fought her way to the front, could only stare in utter, crushing second-hand embarrassment. She facepalmed, wishing the sand would swallow her whole.
But the spectacle had its intended audience. Across the party, Lyra had frozen, her conversation forgotten. Her friend, Ariana, was staring at the DJ booth with wide eyes. Lyra's face was a mask of pure shock, then dawning horror, and finally, a reluctant, deep concern.
She said something quickly to Ariana and began moving, cutting through the curious crowd with a determined stride. She found Selene just as Eliza was trying to guide her away from the booth. Selene was listing heavily, her eyes glassy.
"Selene," Lyra said, her voice firm but not unkind.
Selene's head lolled toward her. A slow, drunken smile spread across her face. "Lyra. You came. I knew you'd come."
"I'm taking you home," Lyra stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. She ignored the stares and whispers around them. She looked at Eliza, her expression unreadable. "I've got her."
Eliza, too embarrassed to protest, just nodded mutely.
Lyra slipped Selene's arm over her shoulders, taking her weight effortlessly. "Let's go. We'll talk. But not here."
She began leading a very unsteady Selene away from the music and the prying eyes, toward the parking lot. Selene, in her inebriated state, simply leaned into her, mumbling, "Okay... talk... 's good."
Left behind in their wake, Ariana and Eliza found themselves standing alone together, a few feet apart. They looked from the retreating figures of Lyra and Selene to each other. A moment of awkward silence passed between the two strangers, united only by their chaotic, dramatic friends.
Ariana raised an eyebrow, then a slow, amused smile spread across her face. She shrugged. Eliza, recovering from her embarrassment, let out a short, incredulous laugh and shrugged back.
"Well," Ariana said, gesturing to the still-thriving party. "Might as well enjoy the show."
Eliza nodded, a grin finally breaking through. "Mai tai?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
And as Lyra carefully buckled a passed-out Selene into her passenger seat, her own heart a tangled knot of worry, frustration, and something painfully close to care, her friend and her rival clinked glasses by the tiki bar, deciding to make the best of a very strange night.