"What's going on?" Lena asked, frowning as she noticed the commotion in the middle of the dance floor.
I turned slightly on my barstool and spotted Mirna and Jess squeezed between bodies, waving like crazy at us.
"Probably nothing serious… maybe just someone looking for attention." I pointed toward the two.
Lena didn't look convinced. Her eyes narrowed, following their gestures as if trying to crack some secret code.
"I think they're calling us. Want to check it out?" she asked, sliding off her stool with that calm elegance of hers. She extended her hand toward me — such a simple gesture, but unexpectedly firm.
I stared at her hand for a moment. Normally I'm the one who jumps in when something unusual happens. But this felt more like a summons than an invitation. And somehow, accepting her hand carried a weight of its own.
"I must be getting tipsy," I said, laughing at myself.
She laughed too, but didn't move an inch. Lena could out-wait anyone, her hand still held out long past what most would consider normal. I sighed, set my glass down, and gave in.
"Alright, let's go."
The music swallowed us the closer we got to the dance floor, the heavy beat pulling us toward its pulsing heart. The further we went, the harder it became to move.
"I think it's near the ice statue!" I shouted to Lena, gripping her hand tighter and pushing forward.
After a few shoves and side steps, we finally reached Mirna and Jess. Both of them were practically buzzing with excitement, pressed up against the crowd.
Jess leaned in close, yelling into our ears over the deafening music:
"Look over there!" she laughed.
"Check out that lunatic!" Mirna added, pointing.
I couldn't see a thing. Packed bodies blocked the view, and at five-foot-five, my chances of spotting anything past the wall of tall men and women on sky-high heels were pretty slim. I forced my way forward, slipping between people until a sudden burst of light exploded over the dance floor.
There it was: a massive pedestal glowing neon. At its center stood a giant ice sculpture of a penguin — the heart of the party — glittering like crystal under the spotlights.
Strong hands landed on my shoulders. Startled, I turned and came face to face with Leo, wild-eyed and frantic.
"Holy shit, what a fine piece of man!" he screamed in my ear, making me nearly jump.
"What?!" I shouted back, baffled. "What are you even talking about?!"
He pointed at the statue, practically bouncing in excitement. I followed his finger and, through flashing lights and drifting smoke, spotted movement behind the frozen penguin. Someone circled the sculpture, dancing. And then — he stepped fully into view.
I froze.
A man, built like a god, was dancing atop the pedestal, clad only in tight black boxer briefs that hugged every inch of his thick thighs. He moved with shameless abandon, sweat-slick skin glistening in neon. Each flex of his abs and legs seemed synced with the pounding bass, his body fully claimed by the music.
The scene was absurd — almost laughably so — and yet impossible to look away from. Shock hit first, followed by a nervous laugh I couldn't hold back. Ridiculous, yes. Hilarious, even. But beneath the laughter came something I couldn't stop: a sharp, overwhelming pull. For all his drunken recklessness, he was gorgeous. Smoking hot, just like Leo said.
The beat drove his movements — first with his back to the crowd, then his profile, until suddenly he turned directly toward where I stood. His eyes scanned the throng before locking onto mine.
Everything slowed to a crawl. The lights strobed in manic rhythm, freezing the chaos in snapshots while his stare pinned me in place. For a breathless second, it felt like he was dancing for me and me alone.
I pressed a hand to my chest, but couldn't find my heartbeat. The music thundered so violently it merged with my pulse, each bass drop syncing perfectly with my racing blood until I couldn't tell where the beat ended and I began.
I was transfixed. Couldn't look away. Maybe he wasn't looking at me at all, maybe it was just the crowd or the void beyond. But still, I held that gaze like it belonged to me.
"LUCI!"
Jess's shout snapped me out of it. She shook my arm hard, yanking me back into reality. I blinked, dazed, and when I looked back at the pedestal, he had already circled behind the statue and vanished.
"Come on! This way!" Jess urged, dragging me away from the crush of bodies.
The noise thinned a little near the tall tables. People leaned there, laughing and chatting, and among them were Mirna, Lena, Leo — and a few guys we didn't know.
"You disappeared, Luci!" Lena scolded gently, her face worried.
"Did you guys… see that guy?" I asked, still distracted.
Across the table, Leo spun around, practically glowing with glee.
"Did I see him?!" he exclaimed. "I nearly launched myself at him! My God, that man!"
"Was he, like, a planned act?" I asked.
"You didn't see Penguin losing his shit?! He was up there too!" Leo burst into laughter, retelling it with pure delight.
We lingered there, drinking, laughing, Leo animatedly describing just how gorgeous the guy was. The vibe around the table was much calmer than the madness of the floor.
Three guys hung out with us, probably just nightlife regulars. Jess was already lip-locked with one, but still found time to shoot me sly little grins as if plotting to shove me toward one of the others.
I should've played along: make out with some random, chalk it up as a last wild night in Gotham, and be done with it. But when I glanced sideways at them — too young, too skinny — nothing about them stirred me.
Instead, my mind kept replaying that body. The broad shoulders. The carved thighs. The sweat shimmering under the lights. Burned into me like a brand.
Jess pulled away from her boy toy long enough to whisper in my ear, still draped over him:
"One of them's really into you."
"Not interested." I sighed, trying to sound calm.
"You never are, huh?" she teased, eyebrow arched, low laugh slipping out. "At least talk to them."
I rolled my eyes, but relented.
Their chatter slowed when I approached. The taller, lankier one greeted me politely; the buzz-cut guy flashed a huge grin. No doubt it was him — the way he lit up at the sight of me gave it away.
"Jess said you're leaving Gotham. Is that true?" he asked.
I turned sharply toward her, brow raised.
"You're telling everyone now?" I muttered, half-laughing.
"It's not a secret," she shrugged, smirking as if she'd shared some juicy gossip.
I sighed, then told him:
"Yeah. That's the plan. Heading to Metropolis."
"Wow. Got family there?"
"No."
"You're brave," he said, leaning closer. "I can't imagine moving alone like that."
"He can't even fry an egg!"
The guy Jess was clinging to chimed in, and everyone cracked up. I bit back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him further.
"Luci's a chef. She wouldn't have that problem," Jess teased, giving me a wink.
"Not exactly…" I mumbled.
"That's so cool! Where'd you study?"
"I…" The word slipped out slower than I wanted. "Didn't finish school."
He looked surprised, but didn't push.
"Long story," I added quickly, cutting it off. "But I still cook. It's what I love most."
"And I bet you're great at it," he said with a sincere smile.
I smiled back, shy, enjoying the ease of it. It felt good to talk about something real, something that mattered to me.
"So you win people over through their stomachs?" he teased.
"Maybe," I admitted, half-embarrassed. It was exactly the kind of line I'd heard a million times.
"What's your specialty?"
I bit my lip, thinking. Talking about food warmed me from the inside, made me feel like myself again. But then—
"I…"
A chill cut through me. Behind him, someone darted across the dance floor too fast for me to be sure. Still, my body reacted before my brain caught up: I froze, eyes locked on the shadow that vanished into the crowd. For a heartbeat, I swore it was him. That man.
"You okay?" the guy asked, frowning. "Looking for someone?"
"No, no…" I forced a smile back at him. "Just my imagination."
We shifted back to jokes about greasy bar food. Someone asked about the worst dish I'd ever made, and I told the story of a soufflé that collapsed into a sad, soggy mess in the oven.
I laughed. I tried to stay light. But it wasn't the same. The strange weight still pressed at me, and no matter how hard I tried, my answers grew shorter, duller.
"I'm gonna hit the restroom," I said, setting my drink down and adjusting my bag.
"Want me to come?" Lena offered.
"No, I'll be quick."
They'd probably already noticed something off. No way I could tell them the real reason — that a ridiculous image of a half-naked stranger had carved itself into my brain.
But I couldn't deny it. That scene still burned inside me.