Reflections Of Us

Into the Dark - Chapter 13

🎶 - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3DLSIOzkcvC9fs5g28sPLe?si=dPYw_klUTKmLlTxki2FSEQ

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Jazmine's POV:

The bass rattled through the walls before Jazmine even stepped inside, but the moment she crossed the threshold, it hit her chest like a second heartbeat. Neon light flickered over a sea of bodies moving as one, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and possibility.

"Jazz?" a familiar voice called out above the noise.

Her head whipped around, and her lips pulled into a grin before she even saw him clearly. No way. Standing there, drink already in hand, was Marcus, the boy she used to run through sprinklers with back in her neighborhood summers. Now he was taller, broader, with a sharp jawline, catching the glow of the club's purple lights.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jazmine laughed, weaving through the crows until she collided into his arms. He lifted her slightly off her feet in a hug.

"Damn, it's really you," Marcus said, holding her back just long enough for his eyes to scan her up and down. "And looking... dangerous."

She smirked, shaking her head. "Don't start." But the warmth in her stomach wasn't just from the first drink she'd had—it was him, the nostalgia, and the way he looked at her, like he still knew her, but not enough anymore.

Marcus's gaze flicked past her to the girl at her side. "You're not gonna introduce me?"

"Oh!" Jazmine looped her arm around Zeva's shoulder, tugging her close. "This is my girl, Zeva." She's basically the only reason I've survived campus this long."

Marcus extended a hand, grinning. "Good to meet you. Any friend of Jazz's..."

Zeva clinked her glass to his instead of shaking his hand, already a little glossy-eyed. "Guess that makes you cool by default."

The three of them found a spot near the bar, rounds of shots sliding across the counter. Marcus leaned close, voice dropping in a way Jazmine remembered all too well. "You still dance like you use to?"

Her laugh came out nervous, but she tossed back another shot for courage. "Why don't you find out?"

Moments later, Marcus was tugging her toward the dance floor, the rhythm pulling them into the press of bodies. His hands found her hips like it was muscle memory, and she let herself lean back into him, their movements syncing with the music.

Behind them, Zeva stayed at the bar, tossing back another drink, shoulders swaying as the beat began to seep into her bones.

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Zeva's POV:

Zeva tossed back the last of her drink, the burn warming her throat as the bass from the speakers thumped through her chest. The room pulsed with strobes and shadows, bodies moving like waves she could easily get lost in. She wasn't watching Jazmine anymore—didn't care to. Instead, she let her head fall back, eyes closed, hips rolling to the rhythm as if the music itself had reached inside her and taken control.

She didn't notice the people around her, not really. Just the heat of the room, the press of bodies, the dizzy spin of alcohol making everything brighter and blurrier all at once. Zeva let her arms rise above her head, eyes still shut, swaying as the DJ switched tracks to something darker, bass-heavy. The floor vibrated beneath her heels, every sound coursing through her like a live current. A laugh slipped from her lips—free, careless, the kind she hadn't heard from herself in a long time.

Her hair clung to the dampness at her neck as she spun slowly, drinking in the chaos of flashing lights and echoing shouts. The alcohol blurred the edges of everything, and for once, she didn't mind. She didn't think about tomorrow. Didn't think about school, about expectations, about anything. Just the beat. Just the moments.

She dipped lower, hips rolling, and felt a rush of adrenaline at the way the crows moved around her, all faceless shadows. Zeva was untouchable here, untethered—another body feeding the night's hunger.

And then, somewhere in the haze, she felt it. A presence sliding closer. Heat at her back.

Large hands brushed her waist, tentative at first, then firmer when she didn't pull away. Zeva's lips curved into a half-smile as she leaned into the warmth, letting the music dictate her body's response. Whoever it was, they moved with her, step for step, as if the rhythm belonged to them both.

The scent of cologne—clean, deep, and unfamiliar—cut through the smoke and liquor filling the air. Strong, steady, grounding. Different from the random boys who sometimes tried their luck on the dance floor.

Her fingers drifted back instinctively, finding a broad chest, firm under her touch. The stranger's grip tightened, guiding her sway, and she laughed low in her throat, letting her head fall back just enough to brush against him.

She didn't need to know who he was. Not right now.

Her laugh melted into a breathless sigh as his grip steadied her hips, their bodies moving in sync with the bass that thundered through the floor. Heat crawled up her spine, each shift of his touch sparking something low in her stomach. She pressed closer without thinking, lost in the pulse, in the haze, and in him.

The club around her blurred—the flashing lights, the blurred faces, even Jazmine disappearing into the crowd. None of it mattered.

It was just the music. Just the fire building between her and whoever stood in the shadows behind her.

And Zeva didn't care who he was.. Not tonight.