The firepit crackled, casting shadows that danced across Sophie’s face. Her heels dangled from her fingers, her bare feet stretched out in the grass, toes painted a sharp, defiant red.

You sat beside her, the air thick with smoke and secrets.

“I used to dream about nights like this,” she said, watching the flames. “Freedom. Fun. Friends who don’t ask too many questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And now?”

She turned to you, eyes glassy but sharp. “Now I just dream about getting out.”

A long silence passed. Then she leaned in, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of her voice.

“But not tonight.”

She smiled, sly, knowing, and clinked her drink against yours.