ONE NIGHT TOO LATE

ONE NIGHT STAND

Anne's POV

I couldn’t go home.I just… couldn’t.

The thought of walking into that apartment, into that tiny space I shared with Lizzy, was unbearable. She would ask questions. She would see the makeup smeared down my cheeks, the red dress now wrinkled and stained with heartbreak, and she would know something was wrong.

And the moment she asked, I would break again.I didn’t want to be pitied. I didn’t want to be held. I didn’t want to talk. I didn't want to think about Dave, how I saw the signs but I chose to ignore because I bloody loved him. But that's all in the past.I wanted to forget.

So instead of getting a ride back to the apartment, I asked the Uber driver to drop me off at the nearest club. I’d never been to one in my life. I always avoided them. They were loud, sweaty, chaotic everything I tried not to be. But today, I didn’t want to be myself.

I wanted to disappear.

When the car pulled up in front of the building, neon lights spilled out onto the street. The music throbbed through the pavement, deep and intoxicating. People lined up outside, already tipsy, laughing in groups, couples clutching each other like they couldn’t wait to tear into each other inside.

I hesitated.

But then I saw my reflection in the side mirror my smudged eyeliner, my hollow eyes, my trembling lips.

No. Not tonight. I must not look like my problems.

I pulled out a small makeup kit from my clutch, steadied my shaking hands, and touched up the damage. Concealer under the eyes. Lip gloss. A little blush. I brushed back my curls and let them fall over one shoulder. I stared at myself for a moment longer.

Anne Idia who was broken by Dave was Gone!!!!!!

Whoever stepped into that club was someone else. Someone reckless. Someone who didn’t care anymore.

I walked up to the entrance. The bouncer looked me over once, gave a lazy nod, and let me in.

The noise swallowed me whole.

Bass. Lights. Heat. Sweat. Music that pulsed through my chest like a second heartbeat.

I pushed through the crowd until I found the bar and slid onto a stool. I was uncomfortable at first but I decided to loosen up a bit.

The bartender was a woman slim, dark-skinned, with gold braids and a knowing smile. She tilted her head at me. “First time?”

I gave a stiff nod."Was I that obvious", I asked no one in particular.

She looked me over again, and without asking, poured a shot of something clear into a glass and slid it to me.

“To new beginnings,” she said.

I stared at it for a second. My fingers curled around the tiny glass.

“To hell with Dave,” I whispered.

And I drank.

It burned like fire. My throat screamed, and my eyes watered, but I didn’t stop.

“One more,” I said.

Then another.

Then another.

By the sixth shot, the room spun, but in a good way. The pain inside me felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Like maybe I was floating above it, above everything.

I laughed, an actual laugh as the bartender arched a brow at me. “Slow down, sweetheart.”

I didn’t. I didn’t want to slow down. I didn’t want to feel.

The music shifted. The lights dimmed, and suddenly the air felt electric, charged with a different kind of energy.. I felt someone staring at me then I looked back that’s when I saw him.

He was leaning against the far wall, half in shadow, a glass of something dark in his hand. He wasn’t dancing. He wasn’t smiling. He was just watching like he didn’t belong in this chaos, but owned it anyway.

And he was gorgeous.

Not the pretty-boy kind of handsome. Not the boyish charm Dave once had. No, this was different. Sharper. Colder. A man who looked like he knew what he wanted and how to take it.

He had a trimmed beard, a strong jawline, and eyes that looked silver under the strobe lights. His shirt was open at the collar, revealing just a hint of chest, and his black slacks fit like they were stitched onto him.

He looked dangerous.

And for some reason… that made me feel safe.

Our eyes met.

Something passed between us. A flicker. A pull.

He didn’t smile. He just tilted his head, like he was curious.I blinked. Then looked away. Then looked back.Still there. Still staring.I should’ve looked away again.I didn’t.Instead, I stood somehow not stumbling and walked straight toward him.

Was it the shots? The pain? The need to feel wanted, desired, even if just for a moment?

I don’t know.

I just know I ended up in front of him, heart pounding, lips parted, breath shallow.

He didn’t speak. Neither did I.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then slowly dragged back up.

“You don’t belong here,” he said finally, his voice like warm thunder.

“Neither do you,” I shot back.

He smirked. “Maybe that’s why we’re both here.”

I don’t remember what I said next.

Or what he said after that.

I just remember the way his fingers brushed my wrist, how his touch was both soft and commanding. How he leaned in and whispered something in my ear that made my stomach flip.

I remember the way his hand found the small of my back, how my body leaned into his like it had always known him.

And then…The rest is a blur.

Flashes. The hallway. His cologne,woody, expensive, addictive.

The back of a black SUV.

His apartment, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the city I didn’t take in until morning.

And then his hands.

His lips.His skin.And mine, giving in.Giving everything.

---

I woke up to sunlight burning through my eyelids.

My head throbbed. My body ached in unfamiliar ways. My mouth was dry, and the sheets smelled like him clean, crisp, and utterly male.

I opened my eyes slowly, heart already pounding.

Where the hell was I?

I blinked against the light, trying to sit up. The room was massive. Minimalist. Black, gray, and cream. No clutter. No warmth.

The man from last night lay beside me, shirtless and turned away.

Oh God.

I looked down.

No clothes.

Just skin and shame.

Panic exploded in my chest.

No no no no no no—

I scrambled out of bed, grabbing the sheets around me like armor. My legs felt wobbly, and the floor was cold. My heels were tossed in one corner. My dress was hanging on a chair. My clutch was on the nightstand.

I grabbed my phone first, no missed calls. No texts from Dave. Not that I wanted one.

Then I stared at the man.

Still asleep. Peaceful. Like he didn’t just wreck my entire sense of identity.

I tried to remember. God, I tried. But everything was fuzzy. I remembered the club. His eyes. His mouth.

And then—

Nothing.

Just heat. Darkness. Sensation.

I didn’t even know his name.

I didn’t even know his name.

I clutched the sheet tighter.

“f**k,” I whispered.

This couldn’t be happening.

This wasn’t me.

This wasn’t me.

I had waited. Ten years. I gave Dave everything but this. He asked. God, he begged. But I always said no. Not until the ring. Not until I was sure.

And now?

I had given my first time to a stranger.

Some man I met in a club, fueled by shots and grief and heartbreak.

I wanted to scream. Cry. Run. Undo everything.

But none of those things were possible.

The past twelve hours had already been written in flesh and memory.

I sank to the floor, my back against the bed, breathing hard.

What the hell did I do?