The bass pulses deep through the floor, like a second heartbeat under my feet. The lights flicker in quick flashes of blue, violet, a hint of red, everything blurs into motion.

I’m sitting with the guys in the VIP section, half in conversation, half lost in thought, a glass in my hand.

Then I see her. In the middle of the crowd.

She’s standing in a circle with her friends, all of them holding drinks, laughing, talking, moving with the rhythm. But she…she’s different. She doesn’t just move to the music, she is the music.

As if it belongs to her.

Her hips move exactly in sync with the beat, fluid, confident, almost hypnotic. It’s like the sound flows straight through her. And that effortless confidence, she knows people are watching and she loves it.

The lights catch on her top, pink, glittering, flashing every time she spins, reflecting in my direction. Her skirt sits low on her hips.

She draws the attention of almost every guy in the room, not because she’s trying to, but because she doesn’t have to. She dances with that kind of ease, that rare, natural self assurance.

I lean forward a bit, watching her laugh, watching her dance with a friend, both completely in their own world. Then she throws her head back, eyes closed, one hand in the air, grinning.

That grin hits harder than it should.

Her hair falls over her shoulders, the light slides across her skin and I can’t look away from her.

Damn.

Even with dozens of people around her, I only see her.

Then suddenly, she looks up, straight at me. For a moment, I’m not sure if she’s actually looking at me.

But then her movements slow, just a little, almost unnoticeably. Her smile shifts. And I know she’s seen me.

She holds my gaze, calm, steady.

No hesitation, no fake flirting. Just real.

Then she tilts her head slightly, that small, knowing smile on her lips, before turning back to dance. But she knows I’m watching.

Her dance changes, not much, but enough that I can feel the difference. Her movements become smoother, slower, more controlled.

Her hips follow the music with effortless precision.

Yet her eyes keep finding mine. Quick, teasing, almost daring.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, glass in hand. My friends are talking, laughing, but I’m long gone from that conversation.

Then she hands her drink to her friend and starts walking toward me.

Slowly. Step by step, through the crowd.

Her eyes never leave mine as she moves between people. I can feel my heartbeat pick up.

The light plays across her face, follows her, like even the club itself has decided she’s the center of everything. Somewhere in my head, a voice says "If you don’t talk to her tonight, you’ll regret it."

I set my glass down and stand up. The guys shout something after me, but I wave them off and lean over the railing. She stops just below me, looking up. Her lips curve into that small, knowing smile.

I lean forward. “Hey." I say, barely audible over the music.

“Hey.” Her voice is calm, playful and she looks at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

I take a step back and head down the small stairs until I’m standing in front of her.

Close. For a moment, neither of us says anything. The music pounds between us, loud, heavy.

I can smell her perfume, sweet with something warm underneath. She looks up at me and even with all these people around us, it feels like it’s just her standing here.

I grin. “You dance like you own the club.”

She laughs softly. “Maybe I do.”

I laugh too. It’s that simple moment that changes everything.

I instinctively place a hand on her hip, pulling her a little closer so she can hear me better. “Then I guess I need to pay an entry." I murmur against her ear.

She smiles, turning her head just enough that our breath mixes. For a moment, there’s only music, light and breath.

“Maybe I’ll let you in…but only if you can dance." She whispers.

My grin widens.

I lean in closer, my fingers tracing slow circles on her hip. “Let me show you.”