Ava's POV
Joane and I walked down the hallway, our heels clicking softly against the floor. I could feel Melissa's eyes burning into my back, like she thought this was her victory.
Let her.
Joane nudged me. "You sure you're okay?"
"No," I said. "But I will be."
She slipped her arm through mine. "That's the Ava I remember."
We got to her car, and I slid into the passenger seat. I stared out the window for a while, silent. My mind was full—of Melissa, of the fire, of Nico.
"Remember when we used to dream about being free?" Joane asked suddenly, pulling me back.
"Yeah," I said with a small laugh. "We thought parties could fix broken hearts."
She started the engine. "They can't. But maybe a little music and some dancing will make it sting less."
I didn't respond. I was thinking about the dress. About how Melissa always took things that weren't hers—my clothes, my dad's trust, Ethan.
But she hadn't taken my strength.
Not this time.
Joane took a turn and didn't head to the party right away.
"Where are we going?" I asked, a little confused.
"My place," she said. "There's no way I'm letting you show up at that party looking like someone just ripped your soul out."
She wasn't wrong.
Her apartment was warm and cozy, filled with candles and soft music. She opened her wardrobe, pulling out dresses like she was on a mission.
"This one," she said, holding up a silky black dress with a slit. "This is power. And revenge."
I laughed. "You sound like you've done this before."
"Oh, I have."
She helped me change, then sat me down in front of her mirror. Her fingers moved fast—brushing, curling, lining. I barely recognized myself by the time she was done.
"There," she whispered, stepping back. "You look like someone who doesn't take crap from anybody."
I looked at my reflection.
I looked like Ava again. Not the broken girl. Not the scared one. But the one ready to take everything back.
"Let's go," I said, grabbing my bag. "I've got a party to crash."
The music pulsed through the room like a heartbeat. Lights flickered, bodies moved. The party was loud—but in a good way. The kind that made you forget, for just a little while.
Joane slipped into the crowd, waving at someone. I made my way to the bar and ordered three shots of whiskey. Fast. No chaser.
The burn was exactly what I needed.
I was halfway through my third when I felt someone beside me.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Skin like deep bronze. His jawline was razor-sharp, like it had something to prove. Eyes—gray, cold, unreadable. He didn't smile, just watched me like he was trying to figure out what I was made of.
"You don't look like you're here to dance," he said finally, voice low.
I turned slightly. "And you don't look like you're here to make small talk."
That made him chuckle, just a little. "Fair enough. I'm Adrian."
I gave him a look. "Ava."
"You don't seem like the type to drown your thoughts in whiskey."
"Maybe I'm not," I said. "Maybe tonight I am."
He nodded slowly, eyes still locked on mine. "Well, whatever tonight is… you wear it well."
I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into. But the way he looked at me—like he didn't care who I'd been with or what I was running from—it was distracting. Dangerous, even.
And maybe that was exactly what I needed.
We danced. Not the romantic kind. The wild, sweaty, messy kind that made me forget everything.
Adrian spun me, pulled me back in. His hands rested on my waist like we'd done this before. We hadn't. But I didn't care.
I laughed. Like really laughed. Not the fake kind I force in front of Elara. Not the polite one I give Dad. This was real.
"You're trouble, aren't you?" Adrian said, grinning.
"You have no idea," I replied.
He was cute. Tall. Tanned skin. Brown hair that curled a little at the ends. A lip ring that should've looked ridiculous but didn't. And eyes—hazel. Playful.
I'd had three shots of whiskey. Maybe four. I stopped counting after the second one kicked.
Adrian excused himself. Bathroom.
I leaned against the bar, reached into my bag, and pulled out my phone. I wasn't thinking. Just… feeling.
I clicked on his name. Nico.
He picked up almost immediately.
"Ava?"
I giggled. "Heyyy, Nico. My ex-boyfriend's hot uncle."
Silence.
Then his voice, tight. "Ava, where are you? What have you been drinking?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm at a partyyy," I sang. "And I'm having a great time. I'm with this really cute guy. He's fun to be with."
"Ava, stop. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."
I didn't answer.
I just smiled and hung up.
God. Why did I call him?
I turned back to the bar. Maybe one more drink.
Or maybe I should've just stayed home.
I slid my phone back into my bag and turned to the bar.
"Another shot," I told the bartender, voice slurring just a little.
He hesitated. "You sure?"
I nodded. "Completely."
I downed it.
Burned all the way down.
Adrian came back, smiling like he didn't notice anything off. "Miss me?"
I smiled back. "Maybe."
He pulled me to the dance floor again. I moved with him, but it wasn't the same. My heart wasn't there. My head wasn't even here.
Because now I was thinking about him.
Nico.
Why did I call him?
Why did he sound so… worried?
Why did it make my chest feel like it was caving in?
Adrian spun me again. I stumbled. He caught me.
"You okay?" he asked.
I laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah. Just dizzy."
"Maybe let's sit down," he offered, guiding me gently to a nearby couch.
But I couldn't sit still.
I looked around the room. The lights blurred. The music was too loud. The bodies too close.
And then I saw him.
Nico.
At the entrance. Eyes scanning. Jaw locked. Hands clenched at his sides.
He looked furious.
And then he saw me.
Our eyes met.
And suddenly, I wasn't drunk anymore.