EYES OPEN
1689 Words
The club announces itself before we even get inside.
Bass thuds through the sidewalk, rattling up my legs, settling somewhere in my chest like a second heartbeat. The line is long but chaotic, people laughing too loud, arguing with bouncers, fixing outfits that were already fixed ten minutes ago. Bella thrives immediately.
“This is my environment,” she declares, handing her keys to the valet like she owns the place. “I was born for poor decisions under colored lights.”
We barely make it past the door before the sound swallows us whole. Music hits hard and constant, the kind that doesn’t give you space to think, only to move. Lights flicker across bodies packed together, sweat and perfume and something sweet in the air I can’t place.
Bella grabs my wrist. “Don’t lose me.”
“I’m right here.”
“For now,” she says ominously, then drags me straight to the bar.
She orders without looking at the menu, leaning in close to the bartender, dramatic even over the music. I catch fragments—tequila, lime, no salt for her, salt for me. She slides my drink over like she did me a favor.
“Loosen your shoulders,” she says, physically pushing them down. “You look like you’re still defending a thesis.”
I take a sip. It burns, then smooths out. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Yes, you do,” she says. “You’ve been wound too tight all week.”
“That’s because I live in reality.”
“And tonight,” she says, lifting her glass, “we flirt with escape.”
We move toward the dance floor, not dancing yet, just existing in the press of people, letting the music do most of the work. My body starts to follow before my brain gives permission, tension easing in places I didn’t realize were clenched.
Bella, of course, is already gone.
I turn, scanning, and spot her immediately—of course I do. She’s laughing with a group of strangers like she’s known them her whole life, one hand in the air, hair glowing under the lights. A man leans in to say something in her ear and she reacts like he just proposed.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself, and take another sip.
That’s when I feel it.
Not someone touching me—someone watching.
I turn slowly, expecting nothing, maybe just another stranger killing time between songs.
Instead, my stomach drops.
Eric stands near the edge of the floor, jacket off, sleeves rolled, no tie, no office calm to hide behind. He looks different here, less contained, like the noise doesn’t bother him because he knows exactly where he is in it.
For a second, we just stare at each other.
Of all the places.
He steps closer, careful, like he’s aware of the crowd, the implications, the fact that this is not Apex with its glass walls and careful rules.
“Janyia,” he says, voice steady even here.
“Eric,” I reply, and it comes out quieter than I expect.
He glances around, then back at me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same.”
A flicker of a smile crosses his face. “Bella dragged you?”
I blink. “How do you know that?”
“She dragged half the program last year,” he says. “I remember the fallout.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “That sounds right.”
The music shifts, heavier now, people pressing closer. Someone bumps my shoulder and apologizes without waiting for a response.
Eric leans in slightly so I can hear him better, close enough that I catch the clean scent of his cologne under everything else. “You doing okay?”
“I am,” I say, then add, “I needed this.”
He nods, like that confirms something he already suspected. “You earned it.”
There’s a pause, charged and awkward in a way neither of us rushes to fix. We’re both aware of where we are, how this looks, how easy it would be to misstep.
From somewhere behind us, Bella’s voice cuts through the noise.
“JANYIA.”
I close my eyes for half a second.
Bella barrels toward us, eyes lighting up the moment she sees him. “Oh. Oh wow. This just got interesting.”
“Bella,” I warn.
She ignores me completely, sticking out her hand. “I’m Bella. You must be the problem.”
Eric takes her hand, amused despite himself. “Eric. And I resent that immediately.”
She laughs, delighted. “I like him.”
“I’m standing right here,” I say.
“And I’m proud of you,” she replies, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You work hard. You deserve attractive surprises.”
Eric clears his throat, still smiling. “I was just saying hello. I’ll let you two enjoy your night.”
For a moment, it feels like he might actually leave.
Then the music drops into a slower rhythm, the crowd shifting again, bodies swaying closer, the air thick with movement and heat.
Eric hesitates.
“So,” he says, meeting my eyes, “enjoy your night.”
“You too,” I say.
He steps back and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Bella stares after him, then looks at me with surgical precision.
“Oh,” she says. “You are in trouble.”
I take another sip of my drink, pulse still racing, and force my gaze back to the dance floor.
The night isn’t even halfway done.
And somehow, it already feels dangerous.
“Oh absolutely not,” Bella says, loud and dramatic, grabbing my wrist. “You don’t get to appear, destabilize the evening, and then vanish like a cryptid.”
Eric pauses.
The music slams into a heavier beat, bodies jumping, lights strobing red and violet. The club is alive now — sweaty, loud, reckless. No thinking. Just movement.
“I was just saying hi,” he says.
Bella squints at him. “That’s how it starts.”
“I didn’t invite him,” I say, already laughing a little, the alcohol warming my chest.
“No,” Bella agrees. “Fate did. And fate is messy.”
Eric looks at me then — really looks — like he’s checking whether I want him gone.
I don’t answer fast enough.
So he stays.
Someone bumps into me hard from behind. I stagger, drink sloshing.
Eric’s hand catches my waist.
It’s quick. Instinctive. Gone almost immediately.
But it happens.
My breath stutters anyway.
“Sorry,” he says automatically.
“It’s fine,” I say. It comes out softer than I intend.
Bella freezes. Slowly turns. Her eyes widen.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh this is already bad.”
“Relax,” I mutter.
“I refuse.”
The crowd surges again, tighter now. The air smells like sweat, alcohol, perfume. A song I know too well drops and people scream like it’s permission.
Eric leans closer so I can hear him. Close enough that his voice is in my ear, not my space.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m in a club,” I say. “That was my first mistake.”
He smiles — not polite, not controlled. Real. Brief. Dangerous.
Bella fans herself dramatically. “I knew tonight was going to be problematic.”
A girl near the bar stares openly at us. Whispers to her friend. They both look back.
I notice.
Eric notices me noticing.
“People are watching,” he says quietly.
“People always watch,” I reply. “Especially when they’re bored.”
Bella leans in between us. “For the record, you’re both being obvious.”
“We are not,” I say.
“You are standing like divorced parents at a wedding,” she says. “Pick a lane.”
The music changes again — slower, heavier, something that crawls instead of jumps. Bodies start swaying instead of bouncing.
Bella’s eyes light up. “Oh. This is my song.”
She grabs my hands and spins me toward the dance floor. “Come on. Loosen up.”
I hesitate for exactly one second.
Then I let her pull me.
The crowd closes around us, heat and movement and rhythm. I start moving without thinking, hips following the beat, shoulders loosening, tension bleeding out of me.
I laugh. Really laugh.
Bella throws her arms up like she’s summoning chaos.
I glance back.
Eric is still there.
Watching.
Not in a creepy way. In a focused way. Like he’s trying to decide something and losing.
I dance anyway.
Not for him. For me.
But when he steps closer — not touching, just close enough that I feel him behind me — my pulse jumps.
“This is probably a bad idea,” he says near my ear.
“Everything good usually is,” I reply.
Bella turns around, eyes gleaming. “I’m going to pretend I don’t see this.”
Someone shouts Eric’s name from somewhere behind us.
I stiffen.
He exhales slowly.
“Yeah,” he says under his breath. “There it is.”
Before either of us can react, a guy from Apex materializes beside us, grinning like he’s just found gossip gold.
“Well this is interesting,” he says. “Didn’t know Apex sponsored nightlife now.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes flick between us.
Eric straightens, calm snapping back into place.
“We were just passing through,” Eric says.
The guy laughs. “Sure.”
Bella steps forward immediately. “Hi. I’m Bella. I bite.”
He blinks. “Uh—”
“We’re leaving,” she announces, grabbing my arm. “Before this becomes a story.”
She yanks me away, fast.
Eric doesn’t stop us.
But as I turn, his fingers brush mine — accidental, brief, electric.
We lock eyes.
Not longing.
Not desire.
Something worse.
Understanding.
- Writer
