Day in the story: 4th October (Saturday)

"I was pretty sure I saw you guys, then I was definitely sure I heard you and now I'm almost 100% convinced it's actually you," came a familiar voice behind me. Jason. Of course he was here, of all the nights. Was it coincidence, or Peter's hand in play? I hadn't told him where we were going, but maybe Zoe had.

"Oh, hello Jason," Elena said, turning slightly. The rest of the girls ignored him. I, however, decided to indulge him, partially to satisfy my curiosity and partially to see if Sophie and Zoe were right.

"Hello, Jason. How are you?"

"How am I?" He looked genuinely surprised, though pleased, at the question. Without waiting for an invitation, he slid into the seat across from me, near Peaches and Zoe. "You don't mind me sitting here?"

"Not at all," Zoe replied casually.

"Good. So, I was okay a few seconds ago and now I'm pretty damn great. Thanks for asking. Didn't expect that kind of interest from you, Alexa." Zoe's lips twitched into a small smile that read, Told you so. Maybe I had overlooked something. Maybe he deserved a chance. Given his history, I didn't expect it to last long, but that suited me. I didn't have much room in my life for boyfriends anyway.

"Would you girls like a drink?" he asked, ever the thoughtful party host.

"No, Jason," I said. "If you'd use your eyes for once, you'd see we're already set in that department."

"Oh, I am using my eyes," he said with a grin, "they're just… otherwise occupied right now." Flirty as ever.

"Stop talking nonsense. Let's go dance," I said, standing up. For a second, he looked unsure, his confidence cracked just a bit. Was it bravado before? Or a carefully crafted façade? Maybe he wore a mask too, just like I often did. I offered him my hand. He took it, springing up like a coiled spring.

He wore a white-and-gold sporty suit with a golden shirt underneath. It looked good on him, his dark skin and green eyes made the whole ensemble glow. Jason was a pretty boy.

We hit the dancefloor like a hurricane. The music was fast and fierce and we moved with it, bodies twisting and uncoiling, hands and legs gliding with sharp intention. I caught his eyes and he tried to hold mine, but they kept drifting, like he couldn't believe this was real. His uncertainty was obvious. I moved closer. My body brushed against his in a few teasing beats. I took his hand; he spun me. I twirled back under his arm. He caught me, arms around my waist, he smelled like ocean and citrus. Warm. Fresh. Comfortable.

He gripped my hips as the bass dropped and we danced like that, synchronized, heat rising, for several more beats. Then he let go. We kept dancing, looping through three songs like that. Eventually the girls joined us, breaking the rhythm, turning the moment less intimate, less charged. A shared groove rather than a private spark.

"Now you can buy me that drink," I said, sliding onto a barstool.

He obeyed without hesitation and returned a minute later with two glasses. He handed me one and I accepted it with a smile that doubled as payment.

"What's up with you tonight, Lex?" he asked. His tone was curious, but there was a thread of nervousness buried underneath.

"I'm having fun. What does it look like to you?"

"I don't know. I've never seen you have fun like that before."

That could be true, I couldn't remember ever dancing like that near him at any party we'd both attended.

"Question is, Jason, do you like it?"

"I do," he admitted. "But I'm kind of waiting for the punchline. Like you're going to hit me with a clever jab at any second."

There it was, a small confession wrapped in defense.

"Why would you be afraid of that?" I teased, leaning closer until our breaths warmed the air between us.

"Because that's how you treat me, Alexa. Like teasing me is a sport you've trained for."

"You're not exactly innocent," I said, cocking an eyebrow. "You do the same to me. Why is that?"

"I don't know."

"That's it? You don't know?"

"What kind of answer were you hoping for?"

"An honest one," I said, pulling back slightly.

He looked like he was trying to swallow something he couldn't name.

"I might be mistaken," I continued, "because I didn't notice it myself until someone else pointed it out. But… there's talk. That you might be interested in me."

His eyes widened, but I wasn't finished.

"And yet, you've never said anything. You don't seem to have that problem with other girls. I've seen you with plenty over the years."

He went silent. It stretched long enough to turn awkward.

"So?" I asked, breaking the weight of the pause. "Am I wrong?"

"It's easy with most girls," he finally said. "I'm good-looking, friendly, at least that's what most people say. My family's got money. I'm studying law. I don't have to try very hard."

That, I understood all too well. But it wasn't the answer I wanted.

And he knew it.

So he either wasn't going to be honest with me, or maybe he just wasn't interested after all. I gave him a beat to finish his thought, but it never came. I downed the drink he brought me and stood up.

"Thanks again, for the drink and the dancing." I turned to leave.

But he grabbed my hand.

"Wait, Lex… wait, please."

Unfortunately, that was the moment the testosterone storm decided to roll in.

"Is this guy bothering you?" said a new voice. Some hero-type, all bulked-up and ready to be useful. Probably had been circling like a vulture, waiting for a scene he could star in.

Jason opened his mouth faster than I could. "No, I'm not bothering her," he said quickly.

Hero Guy wasn't convinced.

"She tried to walk away and you grabbed her," he growled. He snatched Jason by the collar and yanked him up. "How do you like being grabbed?"

Jason struggled, "Let me go, " but it didn't help. The guy shoved him hard. Jason stumbled, his head smacking against the bar edge with a sickening thud.

Fuck. This.

I moved without thinking. Grabbed the aggressor's wrist and twisted, hard. He yelped like a kicked dog. Way easier than I expected, considering his size. That just made him mad.

He swung at me with his free hand so predictable. I dodged, blocked. No weight behind it. He was strong but not trained. Full of noise, no technique. I stepped in close and shoved him back.

That's when security finally arrived, like actors missing their cue. They pulled him away and apologized, but I ignored them.

Jason was standing now, pressing a bar towel to a blooming cut on his forehead.

"You okay?" I asked.

"No. Not really. My pride's more bruised than my head and considering the cut, that says something."

"What do you mean?"

He looked up at me, eyes clearer than they'd been all night. "Can we talk outside?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute, I'll let the girls know."

They weren't thrilled. Of course they weren't. After the dancing, after the tension, after that, they wanted answers. I gave them a placeholder instead. "I'll explain later," I promised. "Just let me have this talk first."

Then I turned, headed for the door and joined Jason outside.

He looked beaten, not just physically, but on a soul-deep level. I joined him and looped my arm through his, guiding him gently. He didn't protest. We walked away from the club's entrance, past the lingering crowd.

"You asked me to wait," I said, breaking the silence. "Before that moron showed up."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm not much of a fighter… clearly less than you," he muttered, his pride bleeding through the joke.

"You're avoiding the elephant in the room again, Jason. It's starting to drive me mad."

"It's not easy with you, Alexa. You're like my kryptonite. You're intelligent, funny, confident, sexy and completely immune to everything that usually works for me. I honestly thought you might be a lesbian for the longest time."

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"Well, I'm not." I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you even care if I was immune to your so-called charms?"

"Can it be a longer story?" he asked, as we crossed the street into the city's pulse, clubs glowing, glass towers gleaming.

"Go ahead."

"I lived with my parents until I graduated high school. They got me an apartment downtown once I started university. Suddenly, I was free. No rules. No curfews. I wasn't some man-slut before that, but with my own place and girls being… let's say open, I indulged. A lot."

"I understand" I said, to show there was no judgment.

"Then I met Peter. And through him, you." He glanced at me. "It wasn't love at first sight. You were infuriating. All those sharp little retorts, clever comebacks. You picked apart everything I said. But the worst part? You were usually right." He laughed, more at himself than at me. "It took me until, I think, second year to realize I wasn't annoyed, I was obsessed."

I didn't say anything. I just moved a little closer.

"I'm wildly attracted to you, Lex. Can't stop thinking about you. So when you suddenly showed interest tonight, I panicked. Thought it might be a setup. Some elaborate joke. One that would actually hurt."

"Are you sure it's not just because I'm the one girl who rejected you, while everyone else fell at your feet?"

"No," he said. "I'm not sure." Honest. That surprised me more than anything else.

"I don't know if I have time for a boyfriend right now, Jason. Is that even what you want? Or are you thinking just… a fling?"

"I've had flings. Plenty. But never anything serious."

"I'm pretty sure I'd be a bad girlfriend," I said, more truth than deflection.

"I'd still like to try. If you'd let me. Why do you think you'd be bad?"

"Oh, I'm not going to bad-mouth myself. You'll just have to find out."

"Is that a yes, then?"

"To what question?"

He groaned and stepped in front of me, eyes blazing with frustration. "Why can't you, just for once, stop picking at me and say what you actually feel? Peter always says exactly what's on his mind. You treat honesty like it's a trap."

"How do you know what's on my mind?" I teased again, but he was right.

Then he kissed me.

It was soft. Careful. Just the press of lips, warm and uncertain. Then his hand slid gently behind my head, the other resting on my back and he pulled me closer. He met my eyes for a beat, but didn't wait for permission. He kissed me again. A fuller kiss, deeper. Real. I wrapped my arms around him and responded in kind.

His touch was tender, passionate, but not greedy. I could feel his hand trembling, sweat slick against my neck. He was nervous. Scared, even.

"That was…" I started to say something snarky, quite okay maybe, but stopped myself. That would only hurt him. "Very nice," I said instead and smiled.

He beamed.

"I'd try being your girlfriend, Jason."

"Oh my God, yes!" he shouted, literally jumping like a kid. "Are there any rules I should know about?"

Rules? What a question.

"I don't know. We'll figure them out together, right? Cheating is out of the equation though. Obviously."

He nodded seriously.

"Okay. Um… what about… you know. Is sex on the table?"

Oh God. Did he really just,

"Well, on the table and a few other places," I said with a wicked smile. "But not right now. We've got to learn a little more about each other first, okay?"

He exhaled, relieved. "Yeah. Totally."

"Do you want to go back to the club?" he asked.

Did I?

"No. Not really. I'd rather talk more. Learn about you. But it's cold out here and too loud in there."

"We could grab food… but all the good places are probably booked by now. So that leaves fast food or… my place. It's close."

"I'm not hungry. But for the record, I'm totally okay with fast food sometimes. You don't have to impress me with fancy stuff. And I always pay for myself, so don't go full gentleman on me. Just include me in the decision so I can afford wherever we go."

He nodded, as if taking mental notes, which made me smile. It felt strange but kind of lovely to share these normal, mundane parts of myself.

"Let's go to your place," I said. "Show me how you live."

I texted the girls, telling them I wouldn't be coming back and wishing them fun, though I had no doubt they'd manage just fine without me. Meanwhile, I kept talking to Jason. Most of it he already knew, having heard it secondhand from Peter, but I told him anyway.

I spoke about my early childhood, what little I remembered of my parents. I was fairly sure my father had been an architect, but my mother's work? No idea. Then I moved on to life in the orphanage under the strict guidance of nuns and priests. I skipped through high school, where I'd met Sophie and discovered my ever-growing passion for art.

By the time we reached Jason's apartment, it was well past midnight, I had stopped somewhere around senior year.

He punched in a simple code: 1823. Easy to remember.

The apartment was exactly what you'd expect from a place perched on the 10th floor of a glass-and-steel high-rise downtown. Sleek. Expensive. Cold. Everything was polished, glass, black wood, brushed steel. LED lights flicked on at Jason's voice command. He took my jacket gently and hung it up near the entrance.

He gestured toward a white leather sofa, but I walked straight to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. They formed an entire wall, separating us from the city but letting it all pour in like a living painting.

The view was incredible. Streets below glowed with red and yellow ribbons of traffic, pulsing like the veins of some great beast. Across the street, another skyscraper mirrored our own, but its reflection gave nothing away.

"These windows are fantastic," I said. "So much view, but I assume no one can see in?"

"No. From the outside, they're just mirrors," he confirmed, handing me a drink.

"No, thank you," I declined politely. "I have a three-drink maximum on nights out. I already hit my limit back at the club."

"So there are rules," he said with a grin.

"Of course. It's just hard to list them when someone asks. I generally avoid alcohol, I don't like having my mind clouded."

"Good to know."

"I never saw you wasted, either," I added, thinking back to all the parties we'd both attended.

"It's happened, mostly in high school. But I learned to listen to my body's warning signs. I don't use arbitrary limits like some people." He smirked.

"Touché."

"What can I offer you instead?"

"Water or tea, if you're feeling generous. I love good tea."

"Not a coffee person?"

"I drink it sometimes and I enjoy it, but I'm not an addict, not even an enthusiast."

He started boiling water and I looked around again. "Your apartment feels… impersonal."

"What do you mean?"

"No photos. No paintings. Not even a knick-knack. It's like you've gone out of your way to make it look undecorated."

"You're the first person to notice," he said. "This place doesn't feel like home. It was handed to me by my parents, it's not mine. I didn't earn it. So why fill it with my things?"

Huh. That was unexpected. I always figured he enjoyed the benefits of his family's wealth.

"So where do you keep your stuff?"

"I don't really have stuff," he said. "Sure, I have clothes, but nothing I'd call personal. I don't buy fluff. I invest in people. In studying. I want to be a good lawyer, so I can afford a place that is mine."

"I like that," I said, meaning it. Maybe I should start thinking about my own place too. I'd gotten used to living with Peter and Sophie, but our lives were starting to branch in different directions. Maybe that chapter was coming to a close.

"You, on the other hand" he said, "had to work from a young age. No safety net."

"Yeah. Where did I leave off? Last year of high school?"

He nodded.

"That's when I stopped waiting tables and started working at Penrose's Finest, the art gallery. The owner liked my passion and gave me a shot at appraising. I loved it. Still do. And it pays well."

"I bet being young and beautiful didn't hurt your chances."

"Oh, thank you, Jason," I said with a smirk. "But no, I wasn't much of a beauty back then."

That was true. I'd been bruised often, sometimes swollen and I carried a lot more weight. Stress, emotional instability and the lovely side effects of thief training under a borderline sociopath. I finally started to manage my eating disorder toward the end of high school. And underneath it all, I discovered someone kind of… pretty.

"Hard to believe," he said, "but okay."

I walked over and sat down behind the kitchen island while Jason finished pouring hot water into a teacup. He glanced at me and smiled.

"I still can't believe what happened tonight," he said.

Honestly? Neither could I.

"I don't think I'd ever have worked up the courage to ask you out," he added.

"This might still turn out badly for you, you know, once you see the full extent of my insanity," I teased.

"It might," he chuckled, "but at least now I'll have a baseline to measure it against."

I sipped the tea. It was good, nothing worth a poem, but warm and calming.

"My parents would never approve of me seeing you," he said, casually enough, but the words dropped like stones.

"I assumed as much. Who wants their golden boy dating an orphaned girl studying art?" I laughed dryly. He joined in.

"That too," he admitted, "but also, they're pretty racist. Against white people, mostly."

I blinked. "And yet you turned out alright?"

"I hope so. I mean, I don't share most of their vices. I plan to cut them off completely once I'm financially independent. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. If you ever meet them, they'll probably be polite to your face, but they're fake as fuck."

"Is it okay for me to say 'fuck' in your presence?" He asked with a smirk.

"Fuck if I know," I replied and he relaxed. "If we ever run into my parents, though," I added, "we might have bigger problems than bigotry."

His expression softened. "Do you miss them?"

"Not really. I don't remember much. I guess that's a blessing. I see how so many people are messed up by their parents and honestly, I'm kind of glad the ones who messed up my mind aren't legally tied to me. I can just walk away and never look back."

He nodded. "Do you want kids one day?"

That caught me off guard.

"Damn, you're really going for the first-date bombshells, huh?"

"Sorry," he said, a little sheepish. "It just came to me. I've never seriously thought about it before."

"Well," I said, not needing to think much at all, "no. I don't."

He blinked. "Just, no?"

"I'm not exactly wife material, Jason. I don't want to be a mom. Never did."

"That's fair." He paused, thinking. "I honestly don't know if I want them either."

"Consider this relationship a trial run, then," I said. "Find out what you like about me, what you hate. Then maybe one day you'll meet someone who checks more boxes."

It sounded cold, but it wasn't meant to be. I still wasn't entirely invested. Not yet. But I was willing to try and he should be too. If either of us had any hope of this working, we'd have to walk into it with clear eyes and no fantasies.

"I'll try to think about it that way," he said. "Would you like to watch something with me? Will you stay the night?"

"Well, those are two very different questions," I replied. "I'd be up for a movie, but I won't stay the night, not yet. Don't take it personally, okay?"

"Is it okay to ask if you're a virgin?"

"You can ask anything." I met his gaze. "I'm not. I just think sex shouldn't be treated casually, that's all. Also, I assumed when you asked if I'd stay the night, you didn't mean sex."

"I didn't," he admitted quickly. "I meant you just — sleeping over. But the way you said 'don't take it personally' made me think, well, maybe you were implying it. Sorry, my mistake."

"No need to apologize. I get it. Misunderstandings happen."

He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, what do you usually watch for fun?"

If I was being honest, which I mostly was tonight, I rarely watched movies just for fun. The last one had been Interstellar and only because the gang wanted to see it in theaters. On my own, I stuck to art documentaries or tutorial videos, technique, process, theory.

So I told him that.

He laughed. "Of course you do. That's so you. I mostly watch legal dramas, big shock, right?"

"Shocking," I deadpanned.

We decided on The Devil's Advocate. I needed something a little more fantastical than pure courtroom realism and he didn't protest.

The movie was good. We sat close. We hugged. Kissed a few times, softly, naturally. It was warm. Comforting. But when it ended, all I wanted was my bed.

"I think I'll head home," I said, standing and stretching.

"You sure you don't want to stay? I'll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed."

"I'm sure, Jason."

He looked disappointed, but didn't argue. "Okay, I'll call an Uber for you, then."

"I told you, I'm an independent woman. I'll handle it."

"But should I just let you go out alone this late?"

"You let me do it every other night before this, didn't you?"

"That's true, but now that I'm your boyfriend — I feel like I should."

"You don't have to, Jason. Another rule for the growing list: I can take care of myself. So treat me like someone who can."

He didn't love that, but I wasn't here to soothe his ego or fit neatly into his idea of how things should go. That's not how I worked.

"I had a very unexpected, but very fun evening, Jason. I hope we can do it again soon."

"Me too, Alexa. I just wish it could've lasted a little longer."

"I'm glad I leave you with that feeling." I smiled, walked over and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Good night."

"Good night," he said.

I left, taking the elevator, without fear this time, heels weren't made for ten flights of stairs and besides, I could teleport in case of danger. I also wanted him to see me leave the building, just in case he was watching.

As soon as I rounded the corner and was out of sight, I vanished.

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