Marissa
Justine invited me to her big DJ gig weeks ago. I only said yes because I knew Justin would be there. Pathetic, I know. But I told myself I was going for the music. So I dragged Hector along as my plus-one.
The Dome was packed. Lights pulsed through the shadows, the bass thrumming deep in my ribs. Celebrities, socialites, influencers—everywhere you looked, someone sparkled. Hector was mid-joke about an ex when the air around us shifted.
Justin walked in.
Not just walked in—he arrived. He was in a charcoal jacket, hair slicked back, hand loosely resting on Wendy’s lower back.
And of course, they chose the booth right across from us.
The entire club was a sea of open VIP spots. But no, he picked the one close enough that I could see every time Wendy laughed a little too hard o
