Falling In Love With You

Chapter 10

Sera

Friday arrived with the kind of oppressive humidity that made the city feel like it was breathing down your neck. By the time I left the office, I had survived four budget meetings and a particularly "handsy" encounter with Elias where he felt the need to guide me through a doorway by the small of my back. I had nearly snapped at him, his touch feeling like a brand of oily entitlement on my skin.

"You look like you're about to commit a felony," Joanna said, leaning against my kitchen island as I walked into my apartment.

She was already halfway through a martini, looking effortlessly cool in a vintage slip dress and boots. Joanna was the only person who could enter my home and treat it like a dive bar, and tonight, I loved her for it.

"Elias," I groaned, dropping my keys and stepping out of my heels. "And just... everything. I feel like I'm wearing a suit that’s three sizes too small, Jo. I can't breathe."

Joanna set her glass down and walked over, placing her hands on my shoulders. "That’s because you’re living for everyone else’s expectations. Tonight, we are going out. We are going to a place where no one knows your last name, and we are going to get messy."

"I don't do 'messy,'" I reminded her, even as I headed toward my bedroom to change.

"You're going to start," she called out. "Wear something that doesn't say 'I have a trust fund.' Wear that black leather skirt you bought on a whim and never had the guts to put on."

I stood in my walk-in closet, my hand hovering over the soft, buttery leather of the skirt Joanna mentioned. It was short—shorter than anything a McBurry should wear. I paired it with a sheer, sleeveless black top and a pair of boots that weren't meant for a boardroom.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't see the "Classy Girl." I saw someone sharper. Someone with edges. My mind drifted, unbidden, to the tattoo shop. I wondered what she would think of this outfit. Would she still call me Cupcake?

"Sera! Move it! The night is aging!" Joanna yelled from the living room.

An hour later, we were deep in the Lower East Side. The air here was thicker, smelling of rain, salt, and excitement. We ended up at a bar that was mostly shadows and loud, distorted bass—the kind of place where the floor was slightly sticky and the lighting made everyone look like a mystery.

"See?" Joanna shouted over the music, handing me a drink that tasted like ginger and cheap bourbon. "Much better than a gala!"

I laughed, actually laughed, for the first time in days. I felt the tension in my neck finally begin to unravel. I leaned against the bar, watching the crowd. It was a sea of flannel, leather, and denim. It was authentic.

I turned my head toward the door as a fresh gust of humid air swept in with a new group of people.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it felt like it hit a wall.

There, leaning against the doorframe as she shook out a damp leather jacket, was Kayla. She was wearing a faded white t-shirt that clung to her frame, her inked arms glowing under the red neon of the bar's sign. Beside her stood a tall guy with a kind face.

She looked around the room with that same bored, predatory grace I’d seen in the shop. She looked like she owned the night, the shadows, and everything in between.

"Oh, hello," Joanna whispered, noticing my frozen posture. She followed my gaze to the door. "Now that is a specimen. Who is she?"

"Trouble," I whispered, my grip tightening on my glass. "That’s the woman from the shop. The one I told you about."

Kayla’s eyes scanned the room, moving past the dancers and the drinkers, until they landed directly on me. For a second, her expression didn't change. Then, her eyes dropped to my leather skirt, raked back up to my face, and a slow, mocking smirk spread across her lips.

She didn't look away. She didn't wave. She just tilted her head in a challenge that said, Look at you, playing dress-up again.

The "hate" I felt for her flared up instantly, hot and sharp, but underneath it, there was a terrifying, thrumming pulse of recognition.

"She's coming over," Joanna giggled, nudging me. "Hold onto your pearls, Sera. This is about to get interesting."