Crystal chandeliers dripping light. Waiters in white jackets weaving through bodies with trays of champagne. The bass of the music vibrating through the floor. Tonight, is Jordan and Naomi’s wedding night.

You sit at your table near the dance floor, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, your golden diamond heels catching the light with every small movement with long blonde hair resting behind your shoulders, exposing your neck.

Across the room, Donnie Azoff stands beside the bar, already deep into his third or fourth drink — or maybe his fifth. It’s hard to tell.

Jordan appears behind him, his gaze following to you when Donnie noticed, his eyes widening.

“…Who the hell is that?” he asks.

“That,” Jordan says calmly, “is Naomi’s friend.” Naomi had mentioned you more than once and thought it would be a good idea to set you both up. Donnie’s pupils widen slightly.

You don’t notice them approaching until you hear Jordan’s voice.

“There she is.” You look up immediately, your face lighting up.