Another late night working, another one with that bass almost bursting your eardrums, rattling the glasses on the counter as you poured another drink. Billie was across the room, sunk into a booth with her friends, but her eyes never left you.

You smirked. What did she expect? She broke up with you, walked away like she didn’t care, and now she was acting like she had a say in what you did? Who you talked to?

Speaking of..

"Lucky me." a voice purred beside you. A girl— Aria –tall, confident, dressed in a cropped tank that showed off her toned arms—twirled her straw between her fingers, eyes locked onto yours. "You're even prettier up close. I was hoping I'd get your attention."

You let out a soft chuckle, wiping down the counter. "You’ve got it now."

A sharp, unmistakable scrape echoed through the music. And then—footsteps. Heavy. You didn’t turn around. Not yet.

"Think I could get your number?" the girl asked, leaning in, voice dripping with flirtation.

You felt it—heat against your skin before Billie even reached the bar.

"She’s busy." Billie cut in, voice low, dangerous.

You finally looked at her. Jaw clenched, muscles tense beneath her black hoodie. The club lights painted streaks of red and blue across her face, but her expression was unreadable—except for her eyes. Those? They burned.

"Didn’t realize I had a manager.." you mused, tilting your head.

Billie’s gaze flicked to the girl beside you, then back to you, nostrils flaring. "Funny.." she said flatly. "Didn’t realize you were that desperate."

Your fingers curled into the bar. "Desperate?"

"Yeah!" Billie scoffed. "For attention. For this." She gestured vaguely at the girl, at the scene unfolding.

You leaned in, close enough that only she could hear you. "If you didn’t want me moving on, maybe you shouldn’t have let me go."