Elena’s Point Of View “You did what?!” she shrieked, her voice cutting clean through the low, thumping bass vibrating through the floorboards.
“I kissed a guy!” I beamed, proudly holding up one slightly crooked finger right in front of her nose to emphasize the number, as if the gesture alone could make the whole night sound reasonable.
“In a booth!
A total, complete stranger!” “Elena Sinclair,” Lexy gasped, her head snapping left and right like a paranoid bird, scanning the shadowy corridor as if a crew of paparazzi were lurking behind the trash cans and velvet dividers.
She grabbed my wrist, her fingers cold against my feverish skin, her grip tight enough to ground me even as the world tilted pleasantly at the edges.
“You leave the table for twenty minutes to go to the bathroom, and you make out with a stranger?!
Who?!
What did he look like?
Was he hot?” “He was…
he was a total prick,” I declared loudly, poking her sharp in the collarbone with my index finger to make my point, the words tumbling out faster than I could organize them.
“A rich, arrogant prick in a charcoal suit.
He smelled like expensive dark cherry scotch and bad decisions.
And he didn’t even finish!” Lexy’s eyes went wide as saucers, her mouth dropping open in utter disbelief, the shock momentarily freezing her mid-motion.
“He didn’t…
wait, what do you mean he didn’t finish?!” “He just stopped!” I threw my hands up in the air to demonstrate the sheer injustice of it, immediately losing my center of gravity and stumbling sideways into the heavy velvet curtain of booth four.
The fabric swished loudly, and I had to grab a handful of red tassels to keep from hitting the floor, my knuckles white against the fabric.
“He just…
pulled his hands out from under my dress, lifted me right off his lap like I weighed nothing, told me we’d continue later, winked at me like a massive jerk, and walked out!
Who does that?!” I huffed, leaning my head back against the wood molding, my brain still spinning from the booze and the residual heat humming between my legs, a heat that refused to fade no matter how much I willed it away.
Some traitorous part of me kept replaying the low rasp of his voice, the confidence in it, as though he’d known exactly how the story would end before it even began.
I could still feel the ghost of his palm against my thigh, could still smell that particular blend of cedar and scotch that seemed to have burrowed itself permanently into my skin.
“As if we’ll ever meet again!” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and nearly knocking myself off balance again.
“The absolute nerve of that arrogant brute!
‘We’ll continue this later,’ my ass!
I don’t even know his name!
He acted like he owned the place, like he owned me!” Lexy stared at me for three long, terrifying seconds, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
Her mouth twitched.
Then her brow furrowed, and she shifted her weight onto one hip, propping her hands on her waist, the picture of a woman recalculating everything she thought she knew about her evening.
I could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes, sorting through a dozen questions and deciding which one deserved to come first.
She’d known me for eleven years, long enough to recognize when my bravado was doing more work than my actual conviction.
“Wait a second,” Lexy said, her tone suddenly dropping into that sharp, ground-level best friend voice.
“Shouldn’t you be a little more worried about your marriage, bestie?
You’re still technically married to Graham!
What happens if someone saw you?” I let out a loud, dramatic huff, swaying where I stood and waving a dismissive hand through the air as if I could bat the question away like a fly.
The mention of Graham’s name landed somewhere distant, muffled, as though it belonged to another woman’s life entirely, some careful, dutiful stranger I’d left behind at the entrance hours ago.
“I’m more worried because that douchebag left me horny!” I blurted out, my voice ringing down the hallway with far more volume than I’d intended.
A couple walking past turned their heads, the guy snorting into his drink, but I couldn’t care less.
Let them stare.
Let them whisper.
Nothing mattered more in that moment than the ache still pulsing low in my belly, sharp and insistent, refusing to be reasoned with.
“I am serious, Lex!” I whined, my hands flying up to cup my burning cheeks.
“Graham and his stupid open marriage proposal can rot!
I didn’t care about Graham in that booth!
I didn’t care about our sterile, miserable house or his cold-ass bed!
I cared about those fingers!
And then that arrogant bastard just left me throbbing!
It’s a crime!
It’s an actual, legal crime against humanity!” Lexy stared at me, her eyes wide, and then her shoulders started to shake.
A tiny, loud snort escaped her nose, followed immediately by a roar of laughter that had her clutching her stomach and bending double in the middle of the hallway, her whole body heaving with it.
She looked, for a moment, like she might actually fall over, one hand braced against the wall for support.
“Oh my God!” she wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye while I stood there pouting like a furious toddler in five-inch heels.
“Oh my God, Elena!
I cannot with you right now!” “Stop laughing!” I whined, stomping my foot against the floor, which only succeeded in making my ankle wobble dangerously and sending a fresh jolt of panic through my chest.
“It’s not funny!
I am currently dying, Lexy!
My body is literally on fire and he left me completely stranded!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lexy gasped, catching her breath and slapping her hand over her mouth to smother another fit of giggles, though her shoulders kept twitching with the effort of holding it in.
“It’s just… you!
Little Miss Rules-and-Regulations, Mrs.
Graham-Sinclair-the-Dutiful-Wife, just got dry-humped and dumped in a VIP booth by a rogue suit?!” “It wasn’t dry-humping!” I protested violently, my entire face ablaze with a fresh wave of heat.
“It was…
very wet, actually!
And extremely thorough!
His hand was straight up under my skirt, Lex!
Up my thigh!
Pressing right into my underwear!” “Oh, gross, okay, TMI, TMI!” Lexy yelled, covering her ears for a second before grabbing my wrist with an iron grip and hauling me down the hallway toward the exit before I could broadcast the exact moisture levels of my underwear to the entire security team.
“We are getting you out of here right now.
You are utterly, hopelessly, irrecoverably smashed.” “I am not smashed,” I insisted, my heels dragging against the dark wooden floorboards as she pulled me along like a stubborn, uncooperative golden retriever.
“I am just…
highly, deeply, dangerously distracted by his fingers.
He had cool rings, Lex.
Cool, heavy rings that felt so good against my skin – ” “Shut up!” Lexy barked, bursting out laughing all over again as she navigated us around a group of college kids near the bar.
“Shut up before someone records you and puts it on TikTok!
Come on, feet moving, left, right, left, right, let’s go!” “Lexy, wait!” I pulled back with all my weight, stopping dead in my tracks right near the velvet rope marking the main entrance.
“My purse!
My bag!
I left it in the booth!” “I have your purse, you absolute idiot, it’s right here on my shoulder!” Lexy patted the black leather strap crossing her chest, shooting me a look that somehow managed to be both exasperated and endlessly fond.
“Oh.” I blinked down at the bag, squinting through my hazy, alcohol-soaked vision.
“Good job.
You’re a really great friend, Lex.
Very reliable.” “Yeah, yeah, save the emotional speeches for tomorrow’s hangover,” she muttered, though something soft flickered across her face before she grabbed my arm again and nudged me through the heavy glass doors into the cool night air.
The cold wind hit my face, biting into my flushed skin, and for a split second, the foggy haze in my brain cleared just enough for the sheer, terrifying absurdity of the night to crash down on me.
I stood there on the damp concrete sidewalk, my black silk dress bunched up slightly around my hips, my lips still swollen and throbbing, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped beast.
Somewhere beneath the alcohol and the adrenaline, a small, quiet voice reminded me that tomorrow this would all feel very different, very real, and very complicated.
I thought of Graham’s face across the breakfast table, the careful politeness we’d perfected over the last two years, and felt something twist uncomfortably beneath my ribs.
I pushed the thought away, burying it beneath the giddy, reckless warmth still humming through my veins, unwilling to let anything spoil the strange, thrilling mess of the evening.
“Lex?” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the distant hum of city traffic as she stepped toward the curb to flag down a yellow cab.
“Yeah?” she called back over her shoulder, waving her arm at an oncoming taxi.
“I think…
I think I liked it.” Lexy stopped mid-wave.
She lowered her arm slowly, turned around on her heels, and looked at me with absolute, horrifying, unadulterated delight, the streetlight catching the wicked gleam already forming in her eyes.
There was something else there too, underneath the mischief, something that looked almost like relief, as though she’d been waiting months to see a flicker of real feeling cross my carefully composed face.
“Oh, sweetie,” she smirked, pulling open the door of the cab and unceremoniously shoving me into the backseat.
“Graham is so, so screwed.”