The vodka in Dani’s plastic cup tasted like rubbing alcohol and regret. She tipped it back, the burn a welcome distraction from the hollow ache behind her ribs. Around her, the bass of Devil’s Lyre was a physical thing, a pulse that vibrated up through the sticky floor and into the bones of her feet. Strobe lights cut through the smoky haze, catching the sequins on her dress—a dark blue explosion of sparkles that felt like a cruel joke now. She’d bought it for Maya. For the slow dance. For the promise of after.

“She’s a coward,” Samantha shouted over the music, leaning into their huddle near a towering speaker. Her blonde hair was perfect, her tone definitive. She’d paid for the bottle service, for the Uber Black, for this entire attempt at salvation. “Breaking up at prom? That’s cinematic villainy. You’re better off.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Dani slurred, staring into her empty cup. The words felt foreign in her mouth. A fact that had, until three hours ago, been the bedrock of her entire life. “My moms are lesbians. I’m… I’m a top. What does that even mean now?”

Alexa, with her neon-pink hair streaks, slung a wiry arm around Dani’s shoulders. “It means you’re free, dude! The world is your oyster! A meaty, manly oyster!” She thrust her own drink skyward, sloshing gin onto Lara’s sleeve.

Lara didn’t flinch. Her dark eyes were fixed on Dani, tracking the slight tremor in her hand, the way her gaze kept drifting to some middle distance where heartbreak lived. “You don’t have to be anything right now,” Lara said, her voice a calm undercurrent beneath the chaos. “You just have to breathe.”

“Breathing is overrated,” Dani muttered. She reached for the bottle of vodka sitting in its glittering ice bucket. Her pour was clumsy, the liquid splashing over the rim. The dress was expensive. Her moms had helped pick it. She watched the vodka soak into the dark fabric, a spreading stain she couldn’t bring herself to care about.

“That’s the spirit!” Alexa crowed. “Drown the demon!”

Dani drank. This time, the burn didn’t distract. It fed the fire. A hot, messy anger was beginning to simmer beneath the grief. Maya’s face, so calm, so final, under the twinkling lights of the gymnasium. “I need something else,” Dani announced, her voice gaining a brittle edge. “This tastes like sadness and poor decisions.”

“I’ll get us shots!” Samantha declared, already weaving toward the bar with the confidence of someone who knew her card would never decline.

Lara moved closer. “Dani. Look at me. How many is that?”

“Not enough,” Dani said, meeting her friend’s worried gaze. The room did a slow, lazy tilt. She gripped the edge of the high-top table. Her knuckles were white. “It’s not working, Lara. I can still feel it. Right here.” She pressed a fist to her sternum. The sequins scratched her skin.

“Alcohol isn’t a scalpel. You can’t cut it out.”

“Watch me,” Dani whispered.

Samantha returned with a tray of four neon-green shots. “Liquid courage!” she announced. “Or liquid amnesia. Either works.”

Dani didn’t hesitate. She grabbed one, clinked glasses with a force that nearly shattered them, and threw it back. It was sweet and toxic, a syrup that coated the ache for a glorious, fleeting second. She reached for a second.

“Dani—” Lara started.

“I’m fine,” Dani interrupted, her voice too loud. “I’m celebrating. I’m young and free and a fucking lesbian in a club full of…” She gestured vaguely at the sea of gyrating bodies. The world had softened at the edges. The music blurred into a single, throbbing hum. Her head felt wonderfully, dangerously light. “I need the bathroom.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lara said instantly.

“No.” Dani pushed off from the table. Her legs were uncooperative, but she willed them straight. The protector. The one who held it together. Even now. Especially now. “I’m a big girl. I can piss by myself.”

She navigated the crowd like a ship through a storm, using shoulders and backs as buoys. The sparkly dress acted as a beacon; people glanced, their eyes lingering on the sweep of her bare back, the way the fabric hugged her hips. She didn’t see them. She saw Maya’s retreating back in a gown of champagne silk.

The hallway to the bathrooms was marginally quieter, a tunnel of dark wood and dim, crimson lighting. She pushed into the women’s room, the stark white tiles and fluorescent lights a brutal shock to her system. She braced herself over a sink, gripping the cold porcelain. Her reflection was a mess of smudged mascara, flushed skin, and wild, chestnut curls. A pretty ruin.

She splashed water on her face. It didn’t help. The room tilted again, a slow, nauseating roll. She fumbled with the clasp of her tiny purse, pulling out her phone. No notifications. Maya hadn’t texted. Of course she hadn’t. The finality of it hit her in a fresh, suffocating wave. The vodka and the shot churned in her stomach, a green, acidic rebellion.

Stumbling into a stall, she was sick, heaving up the night’s poison into the pristine bowl. It was violent and ugly. When it was over, she slumped against the partition, sweating and shivering. The hollow ache was back, bigger now. A cavern. She needed air. She needed to not be here.

She emerged, rinsed her mouth, avoided her reflection’s gaze. The hallway seemed longer now, the crimson lights pulsing in time with her headache. Which way had she come? Left? Right? The thumping bass seemed to come from everywhere at once. She chose a direction, her steps slow and deliberate, each one requiring immense concentration.

The hallway ended at a heavy, black velvet curtain. A bored-looking bouncer with arms like tree trunks stood beside it, his gaze scanning the crowd. Dani swayed toward him. He looked at her—really looked. His eyes traveled from her tear-streaked face, down the sparkling, expensive dress, over the curves the dress showcased so ruthlessly, to her heels. He saw the stain on the fabric, the disarray, the intoxication. He also saw the quality, the allure, the lost-girl glamour of it. He gave a barely perceptible nod and pulled the curtain aside.

Dani blinked, stepping through. The air changed. It was cooler, scented with cigar smoke and expensive perfume. The deafening bass muted to a low, luxurious throb. Here, the lighting was a warm, golden glow, illuminating plush leather booths and bottles of champagne glowing in ice buckets. It was a world of shadows and sharp, watchful eyes.

She stood just inside the curtain, disoriented. This wasn’t the bathroom. This wasn’t the raging dance floor. This was something else. A private aquarium, and she was the new, dizzy creature who’d just swum into the tank. She took another stumbling step forward, her heel catching on the plush carpet. The room tilted on a new axis. She put a hand out to steady herself against a wall that wasn’t there.

From a large, circular booth in the corner, five pairs of eyes tracked her unsteady progress. They had been languid, bored, playing with the ice in their glasses. Now, a new game had stumbled in, wearing sparkles and heartbreak. A slow smile spread across one face. Another leaned forward, elbows on the table, interest ignited. They watched her, a collective predator’s stillness settling over them. The bet was already forming, unspoken, in the space between their shared glances.

Dani felt the weight of their attention like a physical touch. She turned, her vision swimming, trying to find the curtain, the exit, anything familiar. She saw only the sleek, dark interior, the bouncer’s broad back now blocking the way out, and the five young men in the booth, watching her. Waiting. A cold trickle of sober understanding cut through the vodka haze. She was in the wrong place. And she was very, very alone.