The club pulsed with neon lights and music that shook your chest. You and your friends were celebrating—the night was endless. Drinks, dancing, laughter.

Then you saw her.

Big brown eyes, full lips, hair that swayed as she moved. She smiled. You bought her a drink. You danced. One moment, her lips brushed your ear; the next, you were in your apartment, hands roaming, breathless.

And then it was over.

Lying beside her in you turned your head to look at her, her bare skin illuminated by the city lights filtering through the blinds., you asked how old she was.

She blinked with those eyes, then smiled slightly shy but confident at the same time. “Sixteen.” She said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world.