Chapter Three
Her eyes are split apart.
"I can explain." Her boyfriend, Jace, says with a shocked bemoaning look in his dilated eyes. It's too late.
There couldn't be a worse punishment.
She'd already felt her heart jolt in fear. This is greater.
It's like when you're sewing a dress with a thin needle and thread and the thread snaps. Sadness splashes leaving the impact likened to when a whale backflips in the ocean.
A shattered vase unrepairable.
"I hate you so much, Jace."
"I said I can explain, Ollie,"
"Don't call me that." She doesn't even bother to make eye contact with her best friend. Her now-ex best friend. Ollivia bangs the door aggressively not wanting to listen. If she had stayed there longer, she would've beat the shit out of them.
Olivia is walking out of the apartment like her world is ending.
She's just seen the worst thing imaginable — her boyfriend and her best friend tangled up in betrayal. She doesn't scream. She doesn't cry. She just walks. Her heels hit the pavement like war drums, echoing her heartbeat. She doesn't even know where she's going. All she knows is she needs noise. She needs chaos. She needs to feel anything but this crushing weight inside her chest.
The club where she works glows like a flame in the night, and she lets it pull her in.
She walks past the bouncer like she's on autopilot. The music hits her like a wave — pulsing, hypnotic, alive. People are laughing, grinding, spinning under neon lights. It feels wrong, all of it. But it also feels… distracting. And maybe that's what she needs right now.
"One bottle of tequila."
"Are you sure?" The bartender asks her. "I mean, you hardly drink on the job."
"Job? Who says I'm on the job? Nobody said anything about drinkin on the job. I'm here as a regular customer. I just wanna have fun."
The bartender, a burly transgender man with a star tattoo on his arm, gives her the drink, saying, "I'll never want to have fun at where I work. I mean… the vibe's so weird. I feel like my boss would be judging me for just being happy."
Ollivia twirls on her stool tipsily. "Well, it's different in this case. Maybe you feel that way about drinking because you're a bartender. I can drink whenever and wherever I want."
"You seem quite off tonight."
Ollivia smiles then gulps down the drink. "Well… I'm always off."
"Hey, not always. Slow down." the bartender advises. "You're having a rough night?"
"The bartender shall please the customerrr. No questions asked! No questions asked!" She does an accent. "I'm gonna be pleased."
"Right, right," She already sounds drunk. He throws his hand in the air, minding his business.
Ollivia sees a man beside her in the bar place. This gentleman is clad in a suit giving out he works in an office classy enough to get him such an expensive suit. Him too occupies himself with drinking, having an aura is so loud and magnetic. There's something about him. Her eyes are fixed on him. She gets irritated by his presence, noticing his gaze urging her to make a face.
"Hey you, what're you look'in at?"
He faces his front, minding his business.
She orders more drinks.
Olivia's co-worker, Jayla, leans in from behind. "Girl, you okay?"
Olivia forces a smile. "I just need to dance." She says.
Jayla nods, giving her space.
Stripping is part of the job. But tonight, Olivia isn't dancing for tips. Tonight, she's dancing to forget.
She climbs the stage in her heels. "Hey! I'm Olivia! Many of you know me! I haven't danced tonight for y'all yet! I miss you guys already!"
The beat thumps through her body. Every sway of her hips is a scream she can't voice. Every spin, a tear she refuses to shed.
The crowd whistles and claps, but she's not dancing for them. She's dancing to get lost.
Suddenly, someone touches her from behind.
A hand — light, unwelcome. It springs a memory.
Without thinking, she spins and slaps the man. Gasps ripple through the crowd.
"Don't touch me!" she yells, stumbling off the stage.
She storms toward this strange man, grabbing his collar. Her vision is blurry from the drinks and the anger. For a moment, she thinks it's that awful man from the VIP room some hours ago — the one who tried to trap her.
"You again?" she snarls.
The man says nothing. Just watches her with calm eyes. His face is unclear, but his scent — warm, woodsy, intoxicating — calms something inside her.
"Wait…" Olivia blinks.
Her grip on his shirt loosens.
She's confused. Drunk. Broken. And somehow, she laughs.
"You're not so bad after all," she mutters, swaying slightly. "From a closer view. You the same man or not..? Same man, not.. Dunno, but you seem breathtaking. You don't seem exactly the same, have you lost weight?" The man, still silent, gently steadies her. He doesn't push. Doesn't demand. Just stands there, letting her decide.
Olivia looks into his eyes — or tries to. Everything's spinning, but at this moment, she just wants to be seen. To not feel invisible. To not feel discarded.
She leans in and rests her forehead against his chest.
"Come with me," she smiles.
They walk to a private lounge — quiet, low-lit. She sits down heavily on the couch, still dizzy from alcohol and emotion. He sits beside her, still saying nothing.
She looks at him again. The face still isn't clear. But the warmth in his eyes… it's different. It's cold yet welcoming.
She reaches for his hand. "You ever have a night where everything falls apart?"
"Yeah,"
"Well, this is my night."
He looks at her with calculation in his eyes trying to understand the kind of person she is.
She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek — not lustful, but sad. Human. She pulls back and laughs softly, embarrassed. "I don't even know you."
"Neither do I." The man says. "But there's something weird about your energy."
Olivia stares at him. "You know, I can dance for you," She stands up, very drunk. "Sscond chance for the performance that was never held."
She holds his hand and starts dancing happily. Her moves become more seductive as she goes on and the man watches gracefully. There's a spark, she can feel it, he isn't watching her because of lust. There's this connection, like he's trying to understand her. It's like seeing her move unlocks something in him.
"Who are you?" He asks firmly finally, revealing his deep voice.
They remain behind the velvet curtains. For once, Olivia doesn't feel the need to solely please one person, but she feels happy pleasing herself tonight with this act.
She just breathes freely and joyfully. Olivia kisses him, holding him by the collar tiptoeing to reach his height, releasing a childish giggle. He parts his eyes in surprise.
She continues this action and goes further. Him too concurs. There's a force of attraction, she holds him tightly and he responds giving out he too wants to communicate through his body.
She gulps him down like he's wine, and slowly lets him in. She doesn't react—negatively, she enjoys the feel of his body on hers.
Her hands remove his shirt, for a minute he is reluctant cause she is drunk but continues to have sexual intercourse with her. He releases his stiff aura and succumbs to her freedom.