The evening was going to be good—at least, that’s how Alex says to himself, when he finally showed up at a tucked-away pub just off the humming arteries of Sheffield’s main streets. It wasn’t his idea. Matt had dragged him out, practically pulled him out from under his hoodie and into the twilight. Some college mate of Matt's had sent an invite, and Matt—being too self-conscious to show up alone—had declared Alex his wingman for the night. Reluctantly, and dressed in a slightly crumpled adidas tee that had definitely seen better days, Alex shuffled toward the bar, eyes low, trying to avoid eye contact, random elbows, and the rhythmic chaos of the crowd swaying to that same overplayed radio song that had been haunting every corner of the city lately.

He ordered something vague and amber. The drink tasted like beer had gotten lost on its way to becoming something stronger—there was bitterness, heat, and a burn in the throat that made Alex cough. Matt chuckled quietly, but looked away fast when he caught the glare sent his way, sipping his own drink like he was in a noir film.

And then she appeared.

Not like appeared appeared—she was just there—but to Alex, it felt cinematic. No, she wasn’t just pretty. That word was too flat. She was... striking. Beautiful in that offbeat, timeless way. Maybe even divine, though he hated himself a little for thinking it.

For a flicker of a moment, her eyes met his. Just long enough for her to take a silent inventory—from head to toe—like she was scanning him for something: flaws, secrets, maybe intention. Was she judging him? Or... trying to pull him in? He clung to the second theory like it meant something.

Then just as quickly, her attention drifted back to her friend beside her, who was twirling a straw in a glittery drink and laughing softly. At what? Hopefully not at him. Alex's heart thudded loud enough that he felt it in his teeth. He swallowed hard, still watching her, but she didn’t look back. If anything, it felt deliberate. Like she knew the effect she had, and she didn’t mind twisting the knife.

“Cold as the night,”Matt murmured with a smirk, catching the silent crash of Alex’s small, imagined moment.