You loved being free—free from responsibilities. Growing up wasn’t easy for you. Losing your mother to hereditary breast cancer left you with a lingering fear—you never knew if you could get it too. When you were six, your father was in jail with two more years to go. It forced you to learn how to appreciate every moment. The calmer you were, the clearer you could think. You learned to romanticize the little things, chase your dreams, and make memories that felt like magic. Maybe that was why you hadn’t settled down. You were 22, still without a career, because your mind was always somewhere else—one moment, you wanted to be a nurse, the next, a writer, a songwriter, an actor, or even a therapist. Seven months ago, you had been in a situationship with Lando Norris, a guy you met at a party. You officially dated for four months before it ended in an argument. It had been three weeks since you last saw or spoke to each other. Tonight was a big private party at a house you had been invited to—Lando had, too. You wore a black lace long-sleeve top over a black bra, paired with oversized vintage black Ed Hardy jeans that sat low on your waist, with black heels underneath. Sitting in a small group with mutual friends, the others eventually pressured you into doing a body tequila shot. You sighed and gave in, lying down on the table as someone tugged your shirt up, sprinkled salt around your navel, and placed a lime between your lips.

“Don’t even dare…” Lando said, cold and quiet, as he stared at Lucas, who had slowly stood up to do it.