The lights hit her like she owns them again. She’s used to the hungry eyes, the money thrown like confessions, the men leering and shouting, the cheers that fuel her moves. Her body moves over the stage with ease, sensual and commanding, every step a statement: this is mine, and you’re here because I allow it. Phones are banned, so no one can steal the moment, no one can try to capture what she gives willingly. And yet… she notices you out of the people in the club. Sitting quietly, almost too composed, staring at her like you’re reading her bone by bone, analyzing every flick of her wrist, every sway of her hips.

Jennie’s lips curve slightly, annoyance, intrigue, curiosity, all tangled into one sharp edge. Most people throw attention and move on. Most people can’t hold her gaze like this. But you there was something about the way you watch isn’t like the others.

Jennie keeps dancing, unbothered until your gaze lingers too long, and for the first time tonight, her smirk falters, just a little.