The music switched to something slower, emotional ballad that wrapped around the ballroom. The host's voice boomed, encouraging couples to take the floor for the slow dance. A wave of cheerful voices and nervous laughter spread through the crowd as the lights dimmed to a warm amber glow.
Anna reappeared at my side as if summoned by the shift in mood. Her smile was softer now, less of a dangerous weapon and more of an invitation. "Come on," she said, her voice low as she held out her hand. "Dance with me."
I hesitated for a second, and Hazel's tear-streaked face flashed behind my eyes, a ghost of the pain I'd just caused. The guilt was a sharp like a needle.
Then, the cold resolve answered. I took Anna's hand. Her skin was smooth and cool against my own.
The crowd seemed to fade into a blur of color and sound as we began to move. She was a good dancer, leading with confidence that made it easy to follow. The sweet scent of her perfume, something like night-blooming jasmine and expensive champagne, lingered in the small space between our bodies like an intoxicating fog.
She leaned closer, her lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending shiver down my spine. "You look tense. You don't have to be, you know. No one here is judging you."
I forced a smile I didn't feel. "I'm fine."
She pulled back just enough to study my face, her gaze unsettlingly perceptive. "You don't seem fine. Your eyes are somewhere else."
"Maybe I'm just tired," I deflected, my voice tighter than I intended.
She didn't push. Instead, she tilted her head and rested it lightly on my shoulder, her body relaxing against me. "You think too much, Luke. Sometimes you just have to feel."
I didn't reply. I let my hand rest on the small of her back, the satin of her dress slick and cool under my palm. My eyes drifted upward, fixing on the lights above, its thousand crystals spinning soft, fractured light around the room like captured stars.
Around us, the party pulsed with life. Mark was swaying with his girlfriend, whispering something that made her laugh. People were taking photos, their flashes popping like tiny stars. The night was alive, vibrant, a celebration of success. And I felt completely detached from it all, a spectator in my own life.
My mind was a continuous reel. Hazel's broken whisper. Ethan's threatening texts. The real warmth of Anna in my arms now. It was all a chaotic confusion, a life that felt both intensely mine and completely unfamiliar.
As the final notes of the song faded into another, my gaze swept across the room, almost against its will and found Hazel again. She wasn't dancing. She was just standing alone near a pillar, a full glass in her hand, completely still. Her eyes were swollen, her makeup slightly smudged, but her expression was no longer one of pure hurt. It had hardened into something else, something resigned and deeply knowing as she watched me hold another woman.
For a second, my feet faltered. A powerful urge to pull away from Anna, to cross the room and… and what? Apologize? Explain? The impulse was so strong it stole my breath.
But then I didn't.
The line I had crossed earlier tonight felt permanent now, etched into the floor between us. I had chosen this path. To retreat would be to admit the persona I was building was a lie.
A small, self-mocking smile touched my lips as I looked down at Anna's elegant form. Maybe this is who I am now, I whispered to the hollow part of my soul.
Anna looked up at me, her curiosity piqued. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," I said quietly, my voice barely a breath. "Just talking to myself."
The lights dimmed even further, leaving only the soft, romantic glow of the chandeliers and the low, thrumming bass of the music. Around us, people laughed, hugged and kissed, fully emerged in the celebration of life and connection.
And I stood there, holding someone else's hand, the strong scent of her perfume in my lungs, pretending the glittering noise of the gala was enough to drown out the echoing silence growing inside me.
The music shifted again, picking up tempo, but the spell of the slow dance was slow to break. Anna kept her hand in mine a moment longer than necessary, her smile with a private, knowing thing. "It's getting loud in here," she said, her voice cutting easily through the rising chatter. "My hotel suite is upstairs. We could have a real drink, away from all the... performance."
Her gaze was challenging, stripping away the pretense of the office gala. This was no longer about celebrating company success. My heart hammered against my ribs, I saw Hazel then, from the corner of my eye.
She was still standing by the pillar, watching us. She saw Anna lean in close, saw the intimate way she still held my hand. Her face was already pale, seemed to lose its last remaining color. She looked away sharply, as if the sight of us had become physically painful.
That single, flinching motion was the final push I needed.
"I'd like that," I heard myself say to Anna, my voice surprisingly steady.
The elevator ride was a capsule of tense silence, the air felt thick filled with her perfume and unspoken intention. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the world.
Her suite was everything I expected and nothing I'd ever known, spacious, luxuriously furnished, with a breathtaking view of the city's glittering skyline. It was a world away from my small new apartment, a world away from my messy life.
She poured two glasses of amber whiskey from a crystal decanter, handing one to me. Anna sat beside me on the plush couch, too close. Her thigh brushed against mine, a simple contact that felt like a spark on my skin.
"You look good tonight, Luke," she murmured, her eyes drifting over my face, down my chest. "I always wondered why someone like you hides in the background."
Someone like me. I almost laughed. If only she knew the pathetic truth. If only she knew the power was the only thing propping me up.
"You're full of surprises…" she continued, her voice a low hum. Her fingers came up, tracing the line of my jaw with a feather-light touch. "If I'm being honest… I want to know more."
Then she kissed me slowly, I felt the softness of her lips. The kiss started soft, like a question. Then it grew hungrier, an answer to the tension that had been building all night.
She climbed onto my lap, her weight a comfortable pressure, her hands sliding from my shoulders to my neck, tangling in my hair. My breathing turned ragged. My mind, for the first time all evening, began to truly switch off.
Hazel was nowhere.
Anna was everywhere. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her.
This is what I deserve, right? the thought slithered through the haze. Any woman I want. No more pain. No more heartbreak.
The power hummed beneath my skin, dark and eager, whispering a single, seductive command: Take what you want.
Anna pushed me gently back against the couch cushions, her hair falling around us like a dark curtain, closing us off from everything else. Her hand slipped under my shirt, her palm warm and sure against my skin.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding so hard against my ribs. This is happening. I'm about to..
BRRRR.. BRRRR...
My phone started vibrating in my pocket, a violent buzz against my thigh. I ignored it, my hands tightening on her waist, trying to lose myself in the moment.
Anna kissed my neck, slow and deep, as if she could erase the sound.
BRRRR... BRRRR...
It didn't stop. She pulled back, her breath coming in soft pants, her eyes hazy with desire. "You should get that."
"I don't think so," I whispered, trying to capture her lips again, to pull her back into the blissful oblivion.
BRRRR... BRRRR...
She let out a soft, breathy laugh against my mouth. "It might be important." It buzzed again. And again. Making a lot of noises.
I was annoyed, I pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry," I muttered, fishing the phone from my pocket. It was Jean. He never called.
A cold dread, entirely separate from the heat of the moment, trickled down my spine. I swiped to answer. "Jean? This really isn't a good—"
"Luke! Man, you need to come. Now." His voice was panicked, cutting through my irritation like a blade.
"What's wrong? Are you drunk?"
"It's not me! It's that girl... the one from your room that night. She's here, at the apartment. She's a mess, Luke. Crying, saying she did something stupid... I think she might have taken something. Pills, maybe? I don't know, man, she's not making sense!"
The world tilted. Hazel… came looking for me? The luxurious room, the beautiful woman waiting, the taste of expensive whiskey, it all vanished, replaced by a wave of pure terror.
"I moved out," I muttered under my breath, the words feeling stupid and useless. "She didn't know, man. She's been waiting a while… Just come. I don't know what to do."
The image was too clear: Hazel crying. Hazel waiting for me in that miserable apartment. Hazel breaking because of what I'd done tonight.
Anna touched my face, her fingers gentle, searching my eyes. "What's wrong?"
I forced a smile, tight and painfully fake. My voice was low, trying to sound in control. "It's my roommate. Something came up. I… need to check it out."
Anna paused. Her lips were still swollen from our kisses, her breath still uneven. The desire in her eyes was now mixed with confusion. "You're leaving?" There was a clear thread of disappointment, and something that sounded like hurt.
In that moment, I hated myself a little. "I'll be back," I lied. The words felt like ash in my mouth.
She studied me, She was too smart not to feel the seismic shift in the room. But she simply nodded, a faint, wounded blush coloring her cheeks as she straightened up.
"Go," she said softly, her voice sounded neutral. "Come back soon… Luke." The way she said my name, a mix of a plea and a promise, shouldn't have felt so good.
But as I stood up, adjusting my rumpled clothes, the sharp claw of guilt dug deeper than any pleasure ever could. I was leaving one woman to pick up the pieces of another, and in the process, I was shattering myself.