Ariana stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of her black dress. It was slightly shorter than she usually wore, but Celeste had insisted.
"You're in New York now, babe," Celeste had said earlier, handing her the outfit. "Time to look like it."
The apartment buzzed with music, laughter, and the hum of flirtation. Celeste's friends were the rich, restless kind—models, influencers, and too many people who looked like they didn't have day jobs. Ariana sipped her drink and hovered near the balcony, trying to blend in without disappearing.
"Didn't think I'd find you at a place like this," came Damien's voice behind her.
She turned, her eyes narrowing. "You followed me?"
He chuckled, lifting his glass. "Relax. Celeste invited me. Apparently, I'm still considered charming."
Ariana exhaled. "You really have a talent for ruining peaceful moments."
"I'm not the one brooding alone at a party."
They stood side by side for a beat, the city lights dancing in both their eyes. It should've felt like just another conversation. But it didn't.
Suddenly, a drunk guy stumbled toward Ariana, leering too close. "Hey beautiful, haven't seen you before. Wanna dance?"
Before Ariana could respond, Damien was between them.
"She's taken," he said smoothly, his tone hard and dismissive.
The guy raised his hands. "Whoa, sorry, man."
As he left, Ariana crossed her arms. "Taken?"
Damien shrugged. "Didn't like how he looked at you."
"I don't need a babysitter, Damien."
"I know," he said quietly. "But I wanted to be one tonight."
There it was again—that charged silence, thick with unsaid things. Ariana opened her mouth to speak, but Damien was already walking away, fading into the crowd.
She hated how her heart pounded after him.