You hadn’t been living in the city long when you first met Jules. She was quick to invite you into her circle of friends, always insisting they were the kind of people you’d click with instantly. You agreed one night, figuring it couldn’t hurt, and that’s how you found yourself stepping into a world of late-night drinks, music that rattled through cheap speakers, and people who laughed too loud but always made space for you.

Among them was Claire. She wasn’t the loudest in the group, or even the one trying to pull everyone into dancing games, she was just her. she was the one who stayed in your mind after. Claire was magnetic in ways you couldn’t explain. Quiet sometimes, mischievous others, but always carrying herself with that kind of ease that made everyone else seem to move around her. You didn’t say much to her in the beginning—you didn’t want to make it weird, didn’t want her to feel like you were treating her any differently than the others because she was famous.Still, the truth was obvious to yourself: when Claire was in the room, your attention was with her.

The weeks passed, and the more Jules invited you out, the more Claire became the gravity of it all. Even when you weren’t speaking directly, you felt pulled. You’d catch her laughing at something across the table, brushing her hair back, leaning on her elbow with that sleepy kind of smile—and that was enough to undo you for hours after. Tonight, the group had dragged you all to a pub. Dark wood, sticky floors, neon lights bouncing off half-empty glasses. You were sat around a table with Jules and Josh, making polite conversation, but your mind had drifted. Claire was already up, drink in hand, moving on the little corner of the floor the pub called a dance space. She was dressed carelessly perfect—a loose sweater sliding off one shoulder, a short skirt brushing her thighs when she spun. You faded out of the chatter, barely hearing Jules laugh beside you. Your eyes never left her. The room was full of people, half of them pressed too close to one another, moving like the music had them by the throat. But none of that mattered. You weren’t noticing cleavage from strangers, or faces you’d never remember. No—the only thing you saw was Claire, moving like she didn’t have to try, like the night was only hers.

you started wondering-this is my chance. She was loose tonight, half-drunk maybe even more,but clearly glowing, clearly herself. If you wanted to, you could cross that line. Walk over. Say something that wasn’t just polite or friendly. Tell her you wanted to know her. Not the version of her people expected, but the real her, and maybe have fun.

that was until Jules cut you off the daydreaming. "dude, you're even in the convo? slow dive tickets. we're going together,you in?"