The bass thumps through the dance floor, and bodies move like shadows under neon light in the club. He'd been there less than ten minutes, but he was already tired of the noise, the faces, the same rehearsed smiles.

Then he saw you.

Sitting alone on a red velvet stool, one leg crossed over the other, dress hugging you like it was made for you. You weren’t trying to be noticed, which was exactly why you were.

His drink stayed untouched on the table as he moved toward you, something magnetic pulling him in.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked, his lips curved into a slow, confident smirk—one that hinted that you caught his attention.