I don't realise how aware I've become of him until I need a break.
The music is louder now, or maybe it's just me. The heat, the movement, the drinks sitting warm in my system—it all starts to blur together until I feel like I need a moment to breathe.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I tell Talia, leaning in close so she can hear me.
She nods distractedly, already turning back to the music.
The bathroom is quieter.
Not silent, but quieter in a way that feels like stepping out of something overwhelming and into something manageable. The lights are softer, the air cooler, and for a few minutes, I just stand there at the sink, staring at my reflection.
My cheeks are flushed.
My eyes brighter than usual.
There's something different about the way I look at myself.
Something I don't fully recognise.
I press my lips together, exhaling slowly, then push myself away from the counter.
Enough.
When I step back into the hallway, the noise hits me again.
The bass.
The voices.
The constant movement.
And then—
I see him.
He's leaning against the wall just outside, one shoulder resting casually against it, like he's been there for a while. Like he's been waiting.
For me?
My steps falter for just a second before I recover, forcing my body to keep moving, to act normal, to pretend this isn't as noticeable as it feels.
I offer him a small, polite smile as I approach, the kind you give a stranger when you're trying not to make something awkward.
Then I try to walk past him.
His hand catches my wrist.
Not forceful.
Not grabbing.
Just a light brush of his fingers against my skin, enough to stop me, enough to make me turn back.
The contact sends a small, unexpected spark up my arm.
I look at him.
And for a second…
He just stares.
His breath catches like he wasn't prepared for me to actually stop, like he hadn't thought this far ahead.
"God… you're beautiful."
The words come out low, almost like he didn't mean to say them out loud.
My stomach flips.
I pull my hand back gently, suddenly very aware of how close we're standing.
"Oh—uhm… thank you."
My voice sounds softer than I intend, a little unsure.
I turn, ready to walk away, because this is where it should end.
But it doesn't.
He moves quickly, catching up to me in just a few steps, falling into place beside me.
"I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out fast now, like he's trying to fix something before I disappear. "I didn't mean to make it weird."
I glance at him, surprised.
"I just… I saw you earlier at the bar," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression shifting into something almost uncertain. "And I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you."
I let out a small laugh before I can stop myself, the alcohol loosening my reactions just enough to make everything feel a little less serious than it probably should.
"Does that work on girls your age?"
The moment the words leave my mouth, I realise how ridiculous I sound.
But it's too late to take it back.
He blinks at me, clearly thrown off for a second, before letting out a breath that turns into a quiet laugh. His hand drags over the back of his neck again, his gaze dropping briefly before lifting back to mine.
"This isn't going to go well for me, is it?" he asks, looking up through his lashes in a way that makes something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.
And God help me…
The thoughts that flash through my mind at that look are not appropriate.
Not even slightly.
"Darling," I say, shaking my head slightly, trying to ground myself in something sensible, "I'm old enough to be your mother. You don't want this to go well."
His brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face as he studies me more closely, like he's trying to reconcile what I just said with what he sees.
"You don't look a day over twenty-five," he says, and there's no hesitation in it, no hint that he's just saying it to be charming.
He says it like it's a fact.
Like he doesn't understand how it could possibly not be true.
I laugh again, softer this time, because the whole situation feels absurd.
A little unreal.
A twenty-something flirting with a mother of two who just turned thirty-two. I laugh shaking my head slightly. "That's very kind of you, but I promise you I'm much older than you think."
I gesture vaguely toward him, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"And honestly, you're way too handsome to be wasting your time with someone like me. You should be flirting with girls your own age."
He smiles then.
And it changes everything.
It's the first time I see it properly—straight, white teeth, the kind of smile that isn't overly practiced, just… real.
But it's the way he looks at me while he does it that makes my breath catch.
"No one in this entire building has anything on you," he says.
My cheeks heat instantly, my heart flipping in a way that feels far too reactive for someone I just met.
What is he doing to me?
He's young, way too young.
And I'm married.
The thought lands heavier than everything else.
I should walk away.
I know I should.
And yet…
For a second longer than I should allow—
I don't.