Ellie’s halfway through a sarcastic comment when she catches movement near the door again. She turns—and that’s it.

You step in like the cold air just let go of you. Hair done up in a full blowout, soft and wild, like it was made to catch the light. And that jacket—green, smooth, half-zipped and hugging in all the right places, loose enough to move in but tight enough to get stared at. It fits like it was made for this night. Like you own the room before even looking at anyone.

Ellie’s mouth goes a little dry.

“Jesus,” she mutters, almost to herself.

Dina glances over, sees you, then turns back with a smug grin.

“Yup. You’re toast.”

Ellie doesn’t respond right away. She’s watching you laugh at something someone says by the door, the way your jacket shifts when you move, the way your hair bounces—like you walked out of a dream and didn’t think to warn anyone first.

“I mean, I knew they could clean up,” Ellie says quietly. “But I didn’t know they could do that.”

Dina sips her drink. “Go flirt before someone else with eyes does.”

Ellie doesn’t wait this time. She heads toward you, forcing herself to act like her heart’s not beating somewhere in her throat.

You turn when you hear her boots, and she sees your smile—the kind that says you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Okay,” she says, stopping just close enough, voice a little breathless. “I don’t even know where to start.”

She looks you up and down, slow but not subtle.

“The jacket? Dangerous. That color’s not even fair. Your hair? What the hell. I don’t even have words for it. Like—I’m literally malfunctioning.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this.

“I’m being cool, by the way,” Ellie adds quickly. “This is me completely composed.”

She laughs, scratching the back of her neck.

“Can I just—can I have you tonight? I mean, like—with me. At the party. Not—ugh, you know what I mean.”

She groans into her hand. “I’m gonna shut up now.”