He’s safe and familiar. Predictable even.
And that’s why I always go back to him.
But I can’t keep doing that.
I have to figure out my life without him at the center of it. Without him being the one I always circle back to.
Even if every part of me still wants to.
I shove my phone into my purse as I step through the door. A wall of techno music slams into me, throbbing through my bones. The place is a sensory overload. Neon signs pulse against dark walls, the glow of blue light casting everything in an almost dreamlike haze. Clear tables and chairs gleam under flashing strobes. Laughter and shouting blend with the pounding bass.
This is definitely not a place Corbin would ever set foot in.
Too loud. Too bright. Too chaotic.
Corbin likes his neat, tidy life. Everything in its place. Everything under control.
Stop thinking about Corbin, Jules.
A voice calls out over the music, and I glance left, spotting Trey behind a DJ booth. He grins when he sees me, yanking off his headphones before jogging over.
“You made it!” he says, pulling me into a hug.
He smells spicy—cinnamon and pepper. It’s different. Bold. Maybe even too much. I want to like it. I really do. But it’s overpowering, and I force a smile.
“I didn’t know you DJ’d,” I say, trying to focus on him instead of how out of place I feel.
He hitches a shoulder, smirking. “I’m full of surprises, Jules.”
That he is.
“You want a drink?” he asks, nodding toward the bar.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Without warning, his arm drapes over my shoulders, steering me through the crowd like we’ve done this a thousand times before. The dance floor is packed. People laughing, bodies pressed together, drinks sloshing over the rims of their glasses. The whole place radiates energy, a pulse I should want to get lost in.
But I don’t.
I feel like a spectator instead of a participant. Like I’m standing at the edge of something I’m supposed to want but can’t quite step into.
And the worst part?
I know exactly why.
Chaos is a full coffee shop and not enough hands to make drinks in a reasonable time.
This?
This is something else entirely.
The flashing lights, the deep pulse of bass vibrating through my ribs, the sheer volume of it all. It’s too much. Not in abadway. Just… in a way that makes me feel like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s world, and I’m not sure I belong here.
“What would you like?” Trey asks, leaning closer to be heard over the music.
Something strong. Something to take the edge off.
“Something fruity,” I tell the bartender. “Surprise me.”
