Ember's POV - TWO WEEKS EARLIER
I look ridiculous.
I stare at my reflection in Riley's full-length mirror. The black dress hugs every curve I usually hide. The neckline is lower than anything I've ever worn. My hair falls in waves instead of its usual ponytail.
I don't look like myself.
Maybe that's the point.
You look hot, Riley corrects, applying her own lipstick. There's a difference. Tonight, you're not Jason's girlfriend or the scholarship kid or the good girl everyone expects. Tonight, you're just Ember. And Ember deserves to feel powerful.
My phone buzzes on the bed.
I ignore it. It's been buzzing nonstop for the past hour. Jason. His friends. People from school pretending to care while really just fishing for gossip.
Leave it, Riley says firmly. Tonight is about forgetting, remember? No phones. No social media. No Jason. Just us and whatever trouble we can find.
Trouble.
The word should scare me. Instead, it feels like permission.
Twenty minutes later, we're standing outside The Edison.
Soft jazz music drifts through the open doors. People in expensive clothes laugh and talk under dim lighting. A doorman actually checks IDs.
Riley, this place is too fancy. We don't belong here.
Good. She grins. That's exactly why we're going in. Confidence, babe. Fake it till you make it.
The doorman barely glances at our IDs before waving us through.
Inside, my heart pounds. Everyone looks older, sophisticated, like they actually have their lives together. Crystal glasses. Leather booths. The kind of place where a single drink probably costs more than my grocery budget.
Two whiskeys, Riley tells the bartender, sliding onto a stool.
I don't drink whiskey, I hiss.
You do tonight.
The bartender sets two glasses in front of us. The amber liquid looks intimidating.
This is it. The moment I stop being the girl who colors inside the lines.
I pick up the glass and take a sip.
It burns all the way down, making my eyes water. But there's something freeing about it—like I'm burning away the old version of myself.
Better? Riley asks.
Getting there.
She raises her glass. To new beginnings. To becoming who we're meant to be. And to Jason Hartley dying alone and miserable.
We clink glasses.
I'm halfway through my drink when the whiskey starts working. The sharp edges of my humiliation blur. The tightness in my chest loosens. For the first time since walking into Jason's bedroom, I can almost breathe.
Don't look now, Riley whispers suddenly, but there's a seriously gorgeous guy at the end of the bar who hasn't stopped staring at you.
My stomach flips. What?
Dark hair. Expensive suit. Looks like he walked straight out of a magazine. Three o'clock.
I can't help it—I glance over.
My breath catches.
He's beautiful in a way that makes Jason look like a boy playing dress-up. Sharp jawline. Intense eyes even from this distance. The kind of presence that makes everyone else fade into background noise.
And he's staring directly at me.
Our eyes meet.
Something electric passes between us—a recognition that doesn't make sense because I've never seen this man before in my life.
I look away quickly, cheeks burning.
Oh my God, he's coming over, Riley whispers frantically. Act natural. Don't mention Jason. Just be yourself—
Excuse me.
The voice is deep, cultured, with an accent that sends shivers down my spine. British, maybe?
I turn slowly.
Up close, he's devastating. Tall enough that I have to tilt my head back. Eyes the color of storm clouds. A slight smile playing at perfectly sculpted lips.
I hope I'm not interrupting, he says, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the bar.
Riley makes a strangled sound beside me.
He doesn't look at her. His attention is completely, utterly focused on me.
You looked devastated when you walked in, he continues. Now you look determined to pretend you're not. I find that fascinating.
Most guys would use a cheesy pickup line. Compliment my dress or my smile or something superficial.
This man just called me devastated.
And somehow, it works.
Bad day, I say simply.
I'm familiar with those. He gestures to the empty stool beside me. May I?
Riley kicks me under the bar. Hard.
Sure, I hear myself say.
He sits, and suddenly the entire crowded bar feels smaller. Like it's just the two of us in this bubble of dim lighting and jazz music.
I'm Adrian, he says, offering his hand.
Ember. His hand is warm, strong, confident. The handshake lasts a fraction too long, and neither of us seems willing to let go first.
Beautiful name, he says, releasing my hand slowly. Suits you. Fire and warmth and something slightly dangerous.
My pulse races. You got all that from my name?
I'm an excellent judge of character. He signals the bartender. Another round for the ladies, please. And a scotch for me.
You don't have to, I start.
I know. I want to. Those gray eyes study me with unnerving intensity. So, Ember with the devastating bad day. What brings you to The Edison on a Friday night looking like you're trying to outrun something?
I should lie. Make up some boring story about celebrating with friends.
Instead, I say, I caught my boyfriend in bed with my best friend this afternoon.
Riley gasps beside me.
But Adrian's expression doesn't change. If anything, understanding flickers across his face.
Ah, he says quietly. Hence the devastation and the determination. You're here to prove you're fine when you're absolutely not.
Something like that.
The bartender sets fresh drinks in front of us.
Well, for what it's worth, Adrian lifts his glass, he's an idiot. Any man who would risk losing someone like you isn't worth the heartbreak.
You don't even know me.
True. But I'm an excellent judge of character, remember? His lips curve into a slight smile. And you, Ember, are extraordinary. I can tell.
The word hits differently than any compliment Jason ever gave me.
Jason made me feel lucky he chose me.
This stranger makes me feel like I'm the prize.
Your turn, I say, emboldened by whiskey and his attention. Tell me something true. Why is a guy who looks like you drinking alone on a Friday night?
Something shadows his expression. I'm starting a new job Monday. Important position. High stakes. Everything I've worked for. He takes a sip of scotch. And I'm terrified I'll ruin it because I can't stop thinking about the one thing I absolutely shouldn't want.
What's that?
His eyes lock onto mine. I'll know when I see it.
The air between us crackles with electricity.
We talk for another hour. About books—he loves García Márquez, I challenge his interpretation. About philosophy. About the way words can change everything.
He's brilliant. Funny. He listens like I'm the only person in the room.
Riley appears at my elbow eventually, grinning. I'm going to head out. You good here?
I glance at Adrian, then back at her. Yeah. I'm good.
Text me when you get home. She squeezes my shoulder, then leans in to whisper, He's gorgeous. Have fun. Be safe.
Then she's gone.
And it's just Adrian and me.
Your friend approves, he observes.
She barely knows me. We're roommates, not... I trail off. Actually, I don't know why she cares. Most people don't.
Then you've been surrounded by the wrong people. He shifts closer. Tell me something, Ember. If you could do anything right now—no consequences, no judgments, no rules—what would it be?
The question hangs in the air.
I think about Jason's texts. Madison's smirking face. The video that's probably reached a thousand views by now.
I think about four years of being good, responsible, perfect.
I think about this stranger who looks at me like I'm worth knowing.
I'd forget, I whisper. Just for one night. I'd forget everything and everyone and just... exist. Be someone else. Someone brave.
Adrian's eyes darken with something that makes my pulse race.
Then let's make a deal, he says quietly. For the next few hours, we're just two strangers in a bar. No past. No future. No consequences. Just right now, this moment, nothing else matters.
That's impossible.
Is it? He extends his hand. What do you say, Ember? Want to be impossible with me?
Every logical thought screams this is reckless.
But the whiskey is warm in my veins, and his eyes promise something thrilling and dangerous, and I am so tired of being careful.
I take his hand.
Yes.
His fingers close around mine, and the smile that crosses his face is pure satisfaction.
We talk more. About forbidden love stories—Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina. About passion that destroys. About choices that can't be undone.
Have you ever felt that? Adrian asks. That kind of passion that makes people risk everything?
No, I admit. I've always been too careful. Too scared of what I might lose.
And tonight? Are you still scared?
I meet his eyes. Terrified.
Good. Adrian leans closer, and I can smell his cologne—expensive, masculine, intoxicating. The best moments in life are the terrifying ones. The ones where you choose to jump even though you don't know where you'll land.
Is that what you're doing? Jumping?
With you? His gaze drops to my lips. Absolutely.
The bar fades away. The music. The other people. Everything except this moment.
Come with me, Adrian says, his voice rough.
Where?
My hotel. It's two blocks away. His hand tightens around mine. But only if you want to. If you'd rather I call you a cab home, I will. No pressure. No expectations. Just—
I kiss him.
The decision happens before my brain catches up. One second I'm sitting there, the next I'm leaning forward, closing the distance, pressing my lips to his.
He responds immediately.
His hand moves to cup my face, angling my head to deepen the kiss. It's nothing like Jason's kisses—careful and controlled, always asking permission.
This is claiming. Consuming. Like he's been waiting his entire life for this moment.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
That's a yes, then? Adrian asks, his voice ragged.
That's a yes.
He stands immediately, pulling me with him. Throws bills on the bar without counting them. His hand is warm and steady in mine as he leads me through the crowd, past the curious stares, out into the cool night air.
A cab appears almost instantly, like the universe is conspiring to make this happen.
We slide into the backseat.
The moment the door closes, reality hits.
I'm in a cab with a stranger. Going to his hotel room. About to do something completely reckless with a man whose last name I don't even know.
Adrian must sense my hesitation because he doesn't touch me. Just holds my hand gently, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
Say the word, he murmurs. Any word. And I'll have the driver take you home. No questions. No judgment.
I look at him, this beautiful stranger who makes me feel seen for the first time in forever.
Keep driving, I tell the cabdriver.
Adrian's eyes darken. His hand tightens around mine.
The two-block drive feels like both an eternity and an instant.
When we pull up to The Grand Hotel, Adrian helps me out of the cab. The building is elegant, expensive—the kind of place I've never been able to afford.
We walk through the lobby. The concierge nods at Adrian like he's a regular guest.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
We reach the elevator.
Adrian presses the button, then turns to face me.
Last chance, Ember, he says quietly. Once we get in that elevator, once those doors close, I won't be able to stop myself. I'll want all of you. Every secret, every sigh, every—
I kiss him again, cutting off his words.
When I pull back, I'm breathless and certain.
Then don't stop, I whisper.
The elevator doors open with a soft chime.
Adrian's hand finds the small of my back, guiding me inside.
The doors begin to close.
And in that final second before they shut completely, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the polished brass.
I barely recognize the girl staring back.
She looks wild. Reckless. Alive.
The doors close.
The elevator rises.
And I realize I'm not scared anymore.
I'm not thinking about Jason or Madison or tomorrow.
I'm just here, now, with this stranger who makes me feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
I don't know that in two weeks, everything will change.
I don't know that the man beside me will become forbidden.
But right now, in this moment, he's just Adrian.
And I'm just Ember.
And nothing else exists.