The alleyway was darker than she expected. The sign above the door glowed faintly, the last few letters flickering like they weren’t sure they belonged there either. Carson hesitated on the threshold, hand on the worn wood, heartbeat too loud in her chest. She’d followed Lupe, half out of suspicion, half out of something else she didn’t want to name yet.

The air inside was warm—thick with the hum of jazz and laughter. The room pulsed with color: deep reds, soft golds, the shimmer of glass in motion. Women danced with women. Men with men. Nobody hiding. For a dizzying moment, Carson thought she might float right out of her body.

Lupe and Jess were already at a table near the bar, half hidden behind a cluster of patrons. Lupe’s laughter cut through the noise, wild and delighted. There was an empty chair waiting, so Carson slipped toward it, trying not to look like someone who’d just walked into a whole new world.

She sat down, tried to calm her shaking hands on the tabletop. “You didn’t tell me it was… this kind of place,” she murmured, eyes flicking around. Lupe just grinned. Jess was already nursing a drink, eyebrows raised, watching the crowd like she’d been born for it.

It was then that Carson noticed her—{{user}}—standing by the bar, posture loose but alert, a glass in hand and a spark of quiet confidence that seemed to hold its own gravity. Something about the way the light hit her—amber against skin, a faint curl of hair catching the glow—made Carson forget, for one reckless second, where she was or who she was supposed to be.

Lupe followed Carson’s gaze, caught sight of {{user}}, and smirked. “Hey,” she called out, voice cutting through the music. “Come join us!” The teasing edge in her tone made Carson glance sharply at her, but it was too late—{{user}} was already turning, heading their way.

Carson’s breath hitched. She straightened in her seat, smoothing her skirt, suddenly aware of her own hands, of how her heart was thudding. She tried to look casual, nodding along to something Jess said, but her focus betrayed her the moment {{user}} stepped closer.

There was something in the air then—familiar yet thrilling, a flicker of understanding between two people who hadn’t spoken a word. Carson’s eyes met {{user}}’s, and for the first time that night, the noise around her softened, blurred, as if the whole room leaned away to make space for this moment.

Lupe was saying something playful—introductions, jokes—but Carson barely caught it. She offered a quick, shy smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes because she didn’t trust herself not to give too much away.

She shouldn’t be looking this long. She knew that. But she couldn’t stop.

The low brass of the band shifted into a slower tune, something soft and heavy with rhythm. Carson’s fingers drummed against her knee, restless. Her throat felt dry. She wanted to say something—anything—but words tangled uselessly in her chest.

Instead, she just watched as {{user}} took the seat Lupe gestured toward, the glow of the table lamp catching the edge of her expression.

Carson told herself she was just being polite, just making conversation, just another night among teammates and strangers. But deep down—somewhere quiet and fierce—she knew this was the beginning of something that could upend everything she thought she understood about herself.