As I pushed open the door, the world inside swallowed me whole. Flashing lights pulsed in erratic rhythm, the heavy thrum of bass shaking the very air. The scent of alcohol and sweat clung to the atmosphere, thick and cloying, drowning out the lingering chill of the night outside. This place—it was a world of its own. A world I had never stepped into before.
I wasn't experienced in this. Not the haze of neon, not the press of bodies moving to a beat I didn't recognize, not the careless laughter drifting through the noise. And yet, here I was, pushing through the crowd, surrounded by people who called themselves friends.
But none of it mattered.
Because I had already found her.
Alice sat in the corner, half-hidden in the dim glow of the bar, fleeting shadows cast across her face. A glass rested between her fingers, catching the weak shimmer of the neon overhead. She brought it to her lips, slow and unhurried, her gaze lost somewhere far away.
I swallowed, forcing my shoulders to square as I made my way toward her.
The crowd blurred at the edges of my vision, nothing but shifting silhouettes and muffled voices. My steps were steady, though the weight in my chest said otherwise. By the time I reached her, she still hadn't looked up.
Without a word, I slid into the seat beside her, the wood cool beneath my fingertips. My voice, when it came, was quieter than I expected.
"A margarita."
The bartender barely acknowledged me, already moving to fill the order.
Beside me, Alice remained silent.
I turned slightly, watching her from the corner of my eye. She didn't react, didn't even glance in my direction. Just took another slow sip of her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass.
And just like that, the music, the lights, the voices—it all faded.
Because in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the silence sitting between us.
Before I could break it, before I could find the right words, she spoke.
"Why are you here, Adam?"
The question cut through the noise, sharper than the pounding bass, sharper than the clinking of glasses and the murmur of distant conversations.
It caught me off guard.
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
Why was I here again?
The silence stretched, heavy, pressing down between us. I knew the answer—I had come to talk to her, to clear the air, to fix whatever had cracked between us. But now, with her eyes finally on me, waiting, it felt different. It felt like something I couldn't put into words.
Before I could even try, she spoke again.
"Let me guess." Her voice was calm, unreadable. "You wanted to talk to me, right?"
I stiffened.
How?
It was like she had pulled the thought straight from my mind, like she had read the hesitation in my silence and laid it bare. The way she said it—not as a question, but as a statement—made my chest tighten.
Because she was right.
And yet, somehow, that made it even harder to speak.
I swallowed, forcing the words out before they could slip away. "I—I'm sorry." My voice was quieter than I intended, nearly drowned out by the hum of the bar. "Sorry for dragging this out for so long. I wanted to talk, but… I just didn't know what to say."
Alice didn't look away. Her gaze held steady, piercing—like she was seeing straight through me, past the words, past the apology, into something deeper. The silence stretched between us, heavier than before, pressing down on my chest.
And then, finally, she spoke.
"I'm not offended by what you did." A pause. A shift in the air. "But, Adam… why did you run away?"
Her words settled over me like a weight, and for a moment, I didn't understand.
Run away?
The question echoed inside me, twisting through my thoughts, pulling at something I hadn't wanted to face. When? Where?
And then—
The memories crashed over me like a tsunami.
I had run. Again and again. From the past. From the truth. From everything that felt too real, too sharp, too impossible to bear. I had been running for so long that I hadn't even noticed anymore.
A shaky breath slipped from my lips.
I could lie. I could dodge the question, laugh it off, pretend I didn't know what she meant.
But her eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—told me she wouldn't believe it.
And, maybe, for once, I didn't want to run.
Before I could speak, before I could even gather my thoughts, the moment shattered.
Someone else slid into the seat between us, uninvited, unwelcome. The air shifted instantly, the weight of our conversation replaced by something far more irritating.
He didn't acknowledge me—not even a glance in my direction. Like I didn't exist. Instead, he leaned toward Alice, a cocky grin plastered on his face, voice dripping with forced charm.
"Didn't think I'd see you here," he mused, fingers tapping against the bar. "Guess the night just got a whole lot better."
Alice didn't react. Not really. She barely spared him a glance, her expression unreadable. If anything, there was a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
Undeterred, he pushed forward. "Come on, have a drink with me. Loosen up a little. No need to sit here all quiet, right?"
His laugh was grating, like nails on glass, but Alice remained unfazed. She took another slow sip of her drink, her lack of interest as clear as the ice clinking in her glass.
Still, he didn't get the hint.
"Or," he leaned in slightly, "we could head somewhere else. You know, just the two of us."
That was when she finally looked at him.
A single glance—sharp, cold, cutting through the noise of the bar like a blade.
His smirk faltered. Only for a second. Then, as if realizing she wasn't going to entertain him, he turned his attention elsewhere.
To me.
"You her boyfriend or something?" he asked, voice laced with something between amusement and challenge. "Been sitting here all night, looking like a kicked puppy."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of my patience thinning.
He wanted a reaction.
I wasn't about to give it to him.
So I leaned back, meeting his gaze with a calm, unimpressed stare. "And you've been here for what—thirty seconds? Already desperate for attention?"
His smirk vanished.
"You think you're clever, huh?" His voice was lower now, sharp. "Sitting there all smug. But let's be real—" He leaned in, breath reeking of alcohol. "You're just some sad little fuck who doesn't know what to do with her."
Something inside me snapped.
Knuckles white. Jaw tight. The bar, the music, the neon lights—it all blurred.
One more word.
Just one.
Before my fist could collide with his smug, infuriating face—
CRACK.
Glass shattered.
The asshole barely had time to react before Alice brought the bottle down on his head, the sharp sound slicing through the haze of noise like a gunshot. Shards scattered across the bar, glinting under the neon lights, while he jerked forward with a strangled curse.
For a second, everything stopped.
Then, slowly, he lifted a hand to his head, fingers trembling as they brushed against the thin stream of crimson slipping through his hair. His dazed expression flickered between shock and rage, mouth opening as if to spit out some curse—
But Alice was already standing.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she leaned in, voice smooth and sharp as a blade.
"I said," she murmured, "I'm not interested."
The bar held its breath.
I stared at her, pulse still thudding in my ears, the heat of my anger momentarily swallowed by something else entirely.
Damn.