"Ahhh!"
The scream ripped from my throat, bouncing off the high ceilings in a shrill echo. My heel slid off the polished step, my body tilting backward.
The ice pack flew from my hand.
No, no, no -
Flashes of my ice-skating career burned in my mind, the spin drills, the perfect landings, the medals, everything I'd worked for crashing into pieces before I even hit the marble. I tried to steady myself, toes straining for balance, but the next step betrayed me. My foot slipped again.
I was falling.
And then -
A hand closed around my wrist, strong and unyielding, yanking me forward into a chest that was as solid as the banister I should've been holding.
The other arm wrapped around me, securing me, holding me there.
I couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
It wasn't fear - it was… something else.
Like electricity crackling under my skin, but deeper, heavier, almost bruising in its intensity. My pulse stuttered. My mind emptied.
And then I made the mistake of looking up.
Gray eyes. Stormy, merciless, hypnotizing. They threatened to drown me, dragging me into something I had no business wanting.
He was too close, and his beauty, God,.it was the kind that didn't feel real, like something torn from a myth. Aphrodite's perfection carved into male form.
I didn't know how long I stared. I only knew I couldn't stop.
"Uh… what are you two doing?"
Monica's voice shattered the spell.
We sprang apart, his arms loosening from me instantly.
"Nothing," I blurted, my voice a little too sharp. "I just… almost fell."
Jamal's eyes flicked to mine again, a small nod passing between us before he gave Monica the same, and then he was gone,.slipping away like smoke.
Monica crossed her arms. "So… again. What were you doing?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm your best friend. I almost fell. Shouldn't you be asking how I'm doing?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, fine. Are you dead? No? Great."
I rolled my eyes as we made our way to her room.
It was exactly as I remembered, soft pink walls, an entire mural of Monika herself painted above her bed, framed photos of her from childhood to now. Here and there, scattered almost like afterthoughts, were smaller pictures of me.
I flopped onto her bed, staring up at the crown molding.
"We're still going to the night party, right?" I asked.
Monika's mouth twisted. "Yeah… about that. There's a curfew tonight. The biker gangs are having a fight, so nobody's allowed to leave."
I groaned. "Bummer."
"Bummer," she echoed, dropping down beside me.
CentralFort was the city of the rich but since its inception dangerous biker gangs have always been a problem. They were at least three we knew about. There were more but only three frequented the streets to race and there was nothing anyone could do when they decided to terrorize the streets.
We lay there, both staring at the ceiling, the unspoken thought between us clear, if we couldn't go out, the night was about to get very, very boring.
But then Monica's eyes lit up like she'd just had the best idea in the world.
"Wait - since there's a curfew tonight, that means my brother Brian will be home," she said, already spinning toward her closet.
Before I could even reply, she was pulling out clothes, silky dresses, skirts that barely touched mid-thigh, and tops that made my pulse quicken just looking at them.
"Oh my God, you have to wear something like this," she gushed, holding up a crimson top that looked like trouble. "This is my cutest one."
My heart pounded. I'd been in love with Brian for as long as I could remember, since I was five, maybe even before I understood what love was. And it wasn't some secret crush; everyone knew. My parents, our friends, the neighbors,.they all talked about us like we were destined to end up together.
And now… now there was a chance I'd be in the same house as him, looking nothing like the shy little girl he grew up with.
Monica shoved a slinky black dress into my arms before I could protest.
"Quick, put this on. Brian's going to die when he sees you tonight."
I gave her a look. "I thought you said there's a curfew?"
She rolled her eyes and dragged me toward her vanity. "Yes, for normal people. But we aren't normal people. Now, sit still before I glue your eyelids shut with this eyeliner."
Twenty minutes later, we were standing in front of her floor-length mirror. Monica's dress clung to me like it had a personal vendetta, my hair was curled, and my lips were glossy. I was… startled by my reflection.
"For the first time," she smirked, "you actually look beautiful."
I laughed, even though something in the way she said it made my chest tighten. "Gee, thanks."
Her phone buzzed on the bed. She picked it up, read the screen, and groaned.
"It's Brian. He's not coming home tonight. He's stuck because of the curfew."
The disappointment was instant. "So… that's it, then?"
Monica's lips curved into something wicked. "Not necessarily. Curfews are for boring people, remember? We're going out. There's a new club downtown."
I hesitated. "Monica - "
"Don't start. You need fun, and I need music. End of discussion."
Before I could argue, she'd already grabbed my purse and dragged me out the door.
The bass from the club was thumping so hard I felt it in my ribs. Lights strobed over a packed dance floor, the air smelling faintly of sweat and expensive perfume. Monica wasted no time pulling me into the crowd, and soon we were moving to the music, laughing, losing track of everything but the beat.
We'd been there for maybe half an hour when Monica leaned toward me, shouting over the music, "Drink break!" She disappeared into the throng, and I stayed behind, swaying to the rhythm.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
I finally spotted her near the side exit, her arms around some tall guy with a cocky grin.
My brow furrowed. Kissy-kissy Monica was nothing new, but something about his grip on her didn't look right.
By the time I pushed my way outside, the alley was dim and reeking of stale beer. Monica was pinned against the wall, his hands gripping her arms too tightly, her head lolling slightly to the side.
My stomach dropped. She wasn't tipsy, she was out of it.
"Monica?" My voice cracked.
The guy turned, and the smile he gave me wasn't friendly.