Lizzy pov
The cab ride back feels quieter than it should.
Not because it is, Sarah is still talking, her voice rising and falling as she retells something that probably had all of us laughing earlier, but because I can't quite seem to stay inside the moment anymore. The city slides past the window in blurred streaks of light, reflections catching against the glass like something distant and unreachable, and I find myself focusing on that instead of the conversation happening beside me.
"Where did you disappear to all night?"
Sarah's voice cuts through the haze, light and teasing, but it lands sharper than she means it to, pulling me back too quickly.
I blink, turning slightly toward her, though my attention drifts back to the window almost immediately.
"Oh— I, uh…" I brush my fingers over my jeans, grounding myself in something solid. "I ran into a friend."
The words come too easily.
"And we got caught up."
I keep my gaze outside as I say it, watching the passing lights instead of their faces, because it feels safer that way.
I can feel Talia's gaze burning holes in the side of my bead.
"A friend?" she asks softly.
I shrug, one shoulder lifting in a careless motion that doesn't quite match the tightness in my chest.
"Mm."
I don't elaborate and the drive passes quicker than usual.
The house is quiet when we get back. Warm and dimly lit by the lamp in the living room Mark must have left on for us. It feels soft in a way that feels almost unreal after the chaos of the club.
Shoes are slipped off, voices lowered instinctively as we move through the space.
Sarah mutters something about pretending she doesn't exist if her child wakes up, then disappears down the hallway, leaving the rest of the house to settle around us.
I pause outside the bedroom door, my hand resting lightly on the handle before I push it open.
The boys are asleep.
Exactly where they should be.
James is sprawled across the bed like he owns it, one leg tangled in the blanket, his breathing deep and even. Evan is curled beside him, small and still, his hand tucked under his cheek.
My chest tightens.
This is my life.
This is what matters.
I stand there for a moment longer than I should, just watching them, grounding myself in something real before I quietly move to grab my bag and head to the bathroom.
I close the door softly behind me and lean back against it for a moment, letting out a slow breath.
Then I move, routine kicking in.
I reach for the zipper of my blouse, sliding it down, the fabric loosening against my skin as I slip out of it. My jeans follow, dropped carelessly to the floor, replaced with soft cotton pajamas that feel grounding in a way I didn't expect. I stuff my clothes haphazardly into the bag and pull out the small travel toiletry bag.
I finally look up at myself in the mirror.
My cheeks are still flushed.
My eyes are brighter than usual.
There's something different in the way I look at myself.
Something I don't recognize.
I reach for a cotton pad, wiping away my makeup slowly, watching as the version of me from earlier fades with each swipe.
The version who laughed too easily.
Who didn't think.
Who didn't stop herself.
Who let a stranger touch her like—
I pause.
My breath catching slightly.
"A little old granny," I murmur under my breath, huffing out a quiet laugh as I start applying the anti-aging moisturiser to my face.
The words sound ridiculous now.
And yet the way he said it…
The way he looked at me when he did…
My stomach flips.
I press my lips together, shaking my head slightly as if I can physically push the thought away.
This is ridiculous.
It meant nothing.
It was just a night out.
Just a drunk momentary lapse of judgement. Nothing more.
Talia is in the kitchen when I walk in, leaning against the counter, already holding two mugs.
Of course she is.
She hands one to me without a word, her eyes flicking over me briefly, taking in the change, the softness of it.
We move into the living room together, settling onto the couch, the quiet wrapping around us in a way that feels heavier now.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my skin.
"So... are you going to tell me about him?" she asks eventually.
Her voice is carefully gentle.
I stare into my coffee wishing there was a way to avoid this conversation.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Lizzy."
I exhale slowly, leaning back into the couch.
"He's just some kid." I say, realising too late how strange that must sound.
"Some kid?" Talia asks looking slightly concerned.
"I meant he's young. Much younger than me. A college student." I say after a moment. "Mechanical engineering, I think."
"You think?"
"I didn't exactly ask for his résumé," I mutter, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
She hums softly, waiting.
"So how young would you say is 'much younger'?"
"Early twenties, maybe."
Talia's brows lift slightly, then wiggles them.
"Okay cougar," she huffs a laugh.
"Oh my - Talia." I playfully smack her leg, but then shake my head because she might be right.
"There was just…" I trail off, searching for the right words. "Something about him."
"Mm."
"He looked at me like—" I stop myself, shaking my head slightly. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," she says quietly.
I let out a breath, laughing softly under it.
"He made me feel seen," I admit.
The words feel strange coming out.
A little too honest.
Talia doesn't react the way I expect.
She just nods.
"And?" she prompts.
I hesitate again, then huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
"This is going to sound ridiculous."
"I'm listening."
I glance at her, then look away again, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
"He… caged me in at the bar at one point," I say, my voice softening. "Not in a bad way. Just...he stood there with his hands on either side of me like some… I don't know—"
"Like a scary possessive mafia man in one of your books?" she offers.
I laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it.
"Yes," I admit, covering my face briefly with my hand. "Exactly that."
Talia laughs with me, the sound quiet but genuine.
"Oh my God, Lizzy. He definitely looked it."
"I know," I groan, dropping my hand. "It was ridiculous."
"But you liked it."
I hesitate. Then nod.
"A little too much," I admit.
We both laugh again, softer this time, the sound fading into something quieter.
But the moment doesn't last.
Because reality creeps back in.
"It was a mistake," I say, the words firmer now.
Talia tilts her head slightly.
"Was it?"
"Yes," I insist. "a momentary lapse in judgement. That's it."
She studies me for a moment, then shrugs lightly.
"I would never tell Daniel," she says simply.
The words catch me off guard.
I look at her then. Really look at her.
There's no judgment there.
No disappointment either.
"If that's what you're worried about," she adds.
I open my mouth to respond, and stop.
Because the truth hits me before the words can.
I hadn't thought about Daniel.
Not once.
Not the entire night.
Not when Wade looked at me like that.
Not when he touched me.
Not even when he kissed me.
The realization settles slowly.
Heavier than it should.
I should feel guilty.
I should feel something.
But… I don't.
And that scares me more than anything else.
Later, when the house has gone completely still and Talia has drifted off beside me, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in around me.
My lips still feel warm.
The memory of him lingers, sharp and impossible to ignore.
And no matter how many times I tell myself it was just a moment, my mind keeps going back.
To those grey eyes that never left mine.
To the warm steady hand that help my waist. To strong arms that kept me caged yet save.
To lips that tasted like sin and salvation all at once.
I turn onto my side, pulling the blanket closer.
This was a mistake.
It has to be.
Because if it isn't, then I don't know what that says about me.
And that thought is far more dangerous than anything that happened tonight.