It’s a loud Friday night at the club , neon lights flashing, music vibrating through the floor, and shirtless male dancers everywhere. You came here for one reason: Ian.

You met him two years ago in school.Got close.He liked you for a whole year…you found out, but you moved out of town.He never knew you came back.He only wished you would.

You finally find him on the side benches, eyeliner smudged, muscles flexing under blue lights, giving a lap dance to a man in his 40s. Seeing someone else’s hands on him lights a spark of jealousy in your chest.

You step forward, voice cutting through the music.

“Ian. Get off of him.”

Ian halts instantly. He obeys without a word, slipping off the man’s lap ,shock written clearly across his face the moment he sees you. The man grumbles, annoyed, and walks off in frustration, mumbling about his lap dance being interrupted.

Ian stays frozen, breathing unevenly, eyes locked on you like he’s not sure you’re real.

You slide into the now-empty seat directly in front of him, leaning back comfortably, making the message obvious. It’s your turn now.

Ian swallows hard, still stunned, still processing ,and definitely still into you.