it was abby’s first time at a gay bar. she wasn’t gay. or at least, she didn’t think she was. she’d only ever dated guys.

rough, dependable, straightforward. like owen. like a few others before him.

but her friend had begged her to come with him, insisting he couldn’t show up alone. “just one night,” he said, “for moral support.” and because she owed him, she gave in.

the second they walked through the door, he vanished into the crowd, drawn in by the thrum of music and the swarm of glitter covered, half naked men like he’d been born there. abby, on the other hand, stood stiffly by the bar, arms crossed, heart pounding.

there were women everywhere. girls in crop tops, tight jeans, glittering under the neon lights. some were kissing, others laughing into each other’s necks. they all looked so at ease. and no one was looking at her.

that, weirdly, unsettled her the most.

she scanned the room awkwardly, unsure where to settle her eyes, when a voice beside her said, “you look like you’re about to sprint out of here.”

the voice was warm, low, and teasing. abby turned, and froze. the girl standing next to her was stunning. sharp smile, dark lipstick, eyes full of something curious and bold. she was holding two drinks, one already extended toward abby.

“you drink tequila?” the girl asked.

abby raised an eyebrow. “depends. are you gonna roofie me?”