As the loud music filled the Retro Bar and the atmosphere began to loosen up, Mia finally felt a sense of relief. James had been hesitant earlier, but now he was genuinely engaged, deep in conversation with a few guys from the team about the game and other sports news. Seeing him relaxed and laughing, a rare sight in such a high-pressure environment, warmed Mia's heart. She left him to socialize and made her way to the bar counter, craving a refreshing juice to quench her thirst.
She approached the counter, catching the bartender's eye, when a gaggle of junior-year girls sauntered over. Their eyes, already narrowed with an unspoken judgment, now openly flared with jealousy and disdain. They'd probably seen her talking to James, and perhaps even noticed her earlier interaction with Kris, who was somewhere in the crowd with Sam and David.
"Well, well, well," one of them sneered, her tone laced with venom. "Look who thinks she's suddenly part of the 'in' crowd. You think you're so special, don't you, art girl?"
Mia rolled her eyes, refusing to let their petty negativity infect her relief. "I'm just here to enjoy the party," she replied calmly, dismissing their taunts with a dismissive wave of her hand. She turned back to the bartender, hoping they'd get the hint.
But they weren't finished. "You don't belong here," another girl spat. "Stick to your canvases, not to people like Kris Windsor's friends."
Mia's jaw tightened, but before she could retort, a sudden splash hit her. A cold, wet stain bloomed across her simple black top. She froze, the sharp, sweet scent of red wine filling her nostrils. The girl who'd thrown it smirked, triumph in her eyes.
A hush fell over the immediate crowd around them, followed by nervous chuckles. Mia slowly processed what had happened. Her initial shock gave way to a cold, simmering defiance, then, unexpectedly, a wry amusement. This was their idea of a power move?
With deliberate calm, Mia reached for a clean napkin and dabbed at the wine on her top. She looked up, meeting her attacker's gaze. "Wow, that's quite the aim," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Though I've seen better splashes in a kindergarten art class."
The girl's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury as the surrounding crowd's chuckles grew louder. But instead of lashing out in anger, Mia's gaze flickered to a nearby table where an untouched glass of red wine sat. Her lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile.
In one swift motion, she snatched the glass and, with a flick of her wrist that showed surprising accuracy, tossed its contents directly at the girl. The crimson liquid arced through the air, drenching her pristine white mini-dress in a shocking splash of color.
A collective gasp, then a roar of laughter and spontaneous applause erupted from the surrounding crowd. The scene instantly became the talk of the party, all eyes on the sputtering, crimson-stained girl and a perfectly calm Mia. Mia simply shrugged, a triumphant glint in her eyes, refusing to let the incident ruin her evening.
Later, as the party began to wind down, Mia found James by her side, clearly ready to accompany her home. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked, concern etched in his features as he noticed the faint wine stain on her top.
Mia shook her head, her smile reassuring. "I'll be fine, James. You deserve to have some fun tonight. Go celebrate with your team."
James hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching hers. "Alright," he relented, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "But call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all."
Mia nodded, her heart warmed by James's unwavering concern. "I will. Have fun, James."
With a heartfelt goodbye, Mia left the bar, stepping out into the cool night air. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening, the high of James's win, the unexpected satisfaction of her little act of defiance. She began to walk towards the nearest bus station, her thoughts consumed by the past few hours.
But as she turned a corner onto a quieter street, she was met with a surprising sight: a sleek, dark motorcycle parked under a streetlamp, a figure leaning casually against it, silhouetted against the glow.
"Need a ride, princess?" a familiar voice called out, laced with a knowing smirk.
Mia's heart skipped a beat. Kris.
He pushed off the motorcycle, stepping into the faint light, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Hop on," he said, patting the seat behind him. "I promised you an adventure you won't forget."
With a grin of her own, a rush of adrenaline mixing with her earlier defiance, Mia climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. As they sped off into the darkness, the wind whipping through her hair, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins, eager to see where the night would take them.