The ride to Sirus Hotel was a chaotic blur of laughter, thumping music, and Shaw's relentless hype for the night ahead. I sat up front, arms folded across my chest, staring out the windshield as the city lights streaked by like fluorescent ghosts. Everyone else in the SUV was already drunk on the night's potential. I was sober on purpose.
"Peter, you better lighten up!" Davies hollered from the back, shouting over the deep bass vibrating through the car speakers. "You said you'd come, so don't play monk now!"
I gave a half-smirk and said nothing. They didn't get it. For them, this was just another wild Friday—loud music, new women, fast drinks, and memories they wouldn't bother to remember by morning. For me, this was a ghost of something I wasn't ready to revisit. The club scene didn't just feel empty—it felt loaded.
The moment we stepped into the club, it was like crossing a threshold into another world. The place hit like a tidal wave of sensation—throbbing beats pulsing like a second heartbeat, bodies undulating on the floor under low-hung lights that painted the room in slow-moving colors. The air was thick with perfume, heat, sweat, cologne, and that sweet chemical edge of expensive liquor.
Shaw led the charge, the embodiment of chaos in motion. His eyes scanned the crowd like a predator. "Let's eat, boys!" he announced with a grin, eyes narrowing when he spotted the woman he'd been boasting about all week. The one he claimed could "ruin a man with just a look."
She met him with a wicked smile and hands that moved over his chest like she already owned him. Within minutes, they vanished into the crowd. Classic Shaw.
I stayed behind, grabbing a whiskey from the bar and parking myself at the edge of the action. I wasn't there to dance, or chase, or pretend. I was there to watch the unraveling—mine or theirs, I wasn't sure yet.
That's when she appeared.
"Not joining the fun?" she asked, voice like smoke laced with honey.
I turned, and there she was—Alyssa. Her dress clung to her curves with the kind of confidence only a woman who knew her power could wear. Her eyes were dark, intelligent, and far too perceptive.
"I'm fine," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
She studied me for a beat, sipping her wine. "Shaw warned me you'd be like this."
I flicked a glance across the dance floor and caught sight of Shaw's cheesy thumbs-up before he disappeared again. Of course he'd orchestrated this.
"I'm Alyssa," she said, closing the gap between us. "And you're Peter. Shaw thinks you need a reminder of how to have a good time."
I raised an eyebrow. "Does he?"
She nodded, brushing my arm with a deliberate touch. "And I think he's right."
Alyssa wasn't just another club girl. There was intent in her movements, control in her voice. She wasn't trying to impress me. She was testing me.
I didn't flinch. Just lifted my glass and took a sip.
"Not as easy as Shaw claimed," she said, eyes glittering.
"He doesn't know me as well as he thinks."
She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "Resisting just makes it more interesting."
I turned, letting her feel the weight of my stare. "What if I'm not playing?"
She paused, her smile curling in amusement. "Then I'll stop wasting my time."
But she didn't walk away.
Instead, she slid onto the bar stool next to mine and matched me drink for drink, her conversation sharp, her laughter soft but layered. I learned she worked in marketing, freelance mostly—brand reinvention, image control. She'd once ghost-managed the online profile of a famous athlete who now looked squeaky clean to the public but was a disaster in private.
"I fix people who are breaking," she said with a smirk. "Or hide the cracks well enough that no one looks too close."
"That's an interesting job for someone like you," I said.
"Someone like me?" she echoed.
"Someone who clearly doesn't believe in masks."
She laughed then, really laughed, her head tilting back. "Oh Peter. I wear masks so well you think I'm not wearing any."
And for the first time all night, I felt it—curiosity. Not lust. Not temptation. Just genuine curiosity.
The nightclub swirled around us like a living, breathing beast. Neon blue fog rolled across the floor. VIP booths turned into personal kingdoms. The DJ dropped beats like gospel, and the crowd moved in rhythm with religious devotion. Shaw had disappeared again, probably halfway undressed by now. Davies had a brunette wrapped around him like ivy, whispering things that made him grin like a fool. Greenwood was passed out, snoring in a dark corner, already a casualty of the night.
And Alyssa remained at my side.
By the time the crowd began to thin and the music mellowed, she handed me her phone.
"You didn't want anything tonight," she said. "But tomorrow?"
I took the phone, typed in my number. "Maybe."
She smirked, pocketing it. "We'll see."
We spilled out of the club like survivors of some neon war. Shaw was beaming like he'd won the lottery. Davies was still glued to his brunette. I felt... fine. Not thrilled. Not hollow. Just quietly alive. Alyssa had been a spark, but not a fire. And that, I realized, was exactly what I'd needed.
Back in the car, Shaw groaned dramatically. "Peter, you're killing me! A woman like that, practically begging, and you say no?"
I smirked, sliding into the seat. "Not every guy's brain is below his belt, Shaw."
The car erupted in laughter. Davies was too busy whispering into his girl's ear to contribute. Greenwood mumbled something in his sleep. Shaw leaned back, arms behind his head, chuckling like the night was his personal success story.
My phone buzzed. A text from Alyssa:
Interesting, Peter. Let's see how long you hold out.
I chuckled, letting the screen go dark. She thought she had me figured out. Thought I was another challenge to crack, another man who'd cave to the right touch. But I wasn't here to be cracked.
Not yet.
Shaw caught my eye in the rearview mirror, still smirking.
"Thinking about her, huh?"
I scoffed. "Just a passing thought."
He grinned. "You act untouchable, but she got under your skin."
I said nothing. Because maybe, just maybe, she had.
But the difference was—I'd noticed. And noticing gave me the power to resist. For now.
As the car rolled through the sleeping city, I leaned back, watching the night fade in streaks of orange light. There would be other nights. Maybe Alyssa would return. Maybe I'd let her try again.
But tonight?
Tonight, I walked away clean.