(Elira's POV)
🎧 "Feel Like I'm Drowning" — Two Feet
The alarm went off at six-thirty. I just lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling and listening to the faint hum of the city through my window.
Then it hit me. Last night. Dinner. Him.
Those ocean-blue eyes—calm, cold, impossible to forget. The way he'd looked at me, like he was trying to figure out which part of me he hated more.
I forced myself to move. The marble floor was cold against my feet as I walked to the mirror. The girl staring back looked perfect, like always—soft curls, clear skin, neat uniform. A reflection trained to look unbothered, even when her stomach twisted.
I buttoned my white blouse, fixed the navy blazer, and grabbed my bag. Downstairs, Mom was on the phone, her voice too sweet, her smile too bright.
"Morning," I said, heading straight for the counter.
She looked up. "Morning, honey. There's coffee. And… thank you. For last night."
I faked a smile. "Sure. He seemed nice."
Lie.
Because I could still feel his son's stare burning through me.
Mom brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled like she believed her own hope. "This might be good for us. A new start."
Maybe for her.
"Sure Mom" I say sarcastically with a fake smile plastered on my face I'm sure she knew I didn't mean it. I make my way to the Garage hop into my car -the one Mom got for me for my 18th Birthday.
Crestmore High glittered under the morning sun like a postcard—white columns, shiny cars, kids pretending they weren't rich.
As student body president, everyone noticed when I walked in. It wasn't ego; it was habit. Smiles, waves, compliments. I smiled back automatically.
"Hey, babe!"
Liam's voice made me turn. He was leaning against my locker, messy hair, soft grin—the kind of boy mothers trusted too easily. He kissed my cheek, and I let him.
"Big day," he said. "Council meeting at lunch?"
"Yeah," I murmured, swapping my books. "You'll be there?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Rafael walked up, skateboard under his arm. "He says that like you're not already chained to that desk, Elira."
I smirked. "Occupational hazard."
Mariah appeared a moment later, perfect hair and that fake-sweet smile. "Our queen lives for responsibility."
"I live for caffeine," I said. They laughed, like always.
Everything felt the same, and I hated how hollow that felt.
History dragged on forever. Mr. Caldwell lectured about fallen empires while I stared out the window. For a second, I thought I saw a pair of blue eyes in the glass. I blinked. Gone.
When the bell rang, Mariah caught up with me, looping her arm through mine. "So, party tonight. Luz Roja. You're coming."
"Luz what?"
Rafael grinned. "New club in downtown L.A. Crazy exclusive. Totally illegal for us. You'll love it."
Liam frowned. "It's twenty-one plus. No chance."
Mariah waved her fake ID. "You underestimate me."
I should've said no. I didn't. "Fine. I'm in."
By evening, I stood in front of my closet, surrounded by too many dresses and not enough courage.
"Where are you going?" Mom called from downstairs.
"Out with friends!"
She came up just as I zipped my silver dress. Her eyes widened. "You're not wearing that."
I slipped on a longer jacket, pretending to agree. "I'll change."
She sighed. "You always say that."
I kissed her cheek and slipped out before she could stop me.
The city glowed under the night sky. Mariah's text pinged—We're outside. I grabbed my clutch and went.
Luz Roja pulsed with red light, smoke, and bass. The line outside wrapped around the corner. Mariah handed the bouncer our fake IDs with a wink. He let us through.
Inside was chaos—music, perfume, laughter, danger.
Liam found me at the bar, grinning. "Dance with me."
I did. The beat sank into my veins, heat swirling through the haze. I laughed, spun, let go for once.
Then I felt it. That stare.
Sharp. Heavy. Familiar.
My laughter died. Slowly, I turned.
Through the crowd, in the VIP section above, I saw him.
Dante.
Black shirt. Cold eyes. Watching me like he owned the air I was breathing.
My heart stumbled.
Because in that instant, I realized he wasn't just my mother's fiancé's son.
He was the storm I wasn't supposed to survive.
And when our eyes met—fire and ice colliding across the red-lit room—everything else disappeared.