wrong kind of buzz
948 Words
The neon sign of Sotheby’s Bar flickered as Isabel Hale stepped through the doors. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she scanned the crowd. The air smelled like perfume, whiskey, and late-night tension.
She spotted Laura first—already seated near the corner window, two cocktails waiting on the table.
“Took you long enough,” Laura teased as Isabel sat down.
Isabel sighed and picked up the glass. “Traffic was hell. Or maybe I was just dragging my feet.”
“Dragging from what?”
“Nothing important,” Isabel said quickly, brushing it off.
She hadn’t told Laura about the strange new guy at her dad’s company—Jeremiah. It didn’t seem worth mentioning. After all, she barely knew anything about him.
Tonight wasn’t about work. It was about letting go.
The music shifted from soft jazz to a slow, pulsing beat. Glasses clinked, people laughed, and the lights dimmed to that golden shade that made the city feel softer than it really was.
“Ready to get a little drunk?” Laura grinned.
“Absolutely.”
They toasted.
As the drinks went down, Isabel’s mood lifted. She let herself laugh, her shoulders loosening with each round. Laura told ridiculous stories about one of her customers at the café, and Isabel—buzzed and carefree—nearly choked on her drink from laughing too hard.
That’s when the door opened again.
Jeremiah walked in.
And he wasn’t alone.
A tall man followed beside him, quiet but sharp, eyes scanning the room like he noticed everything. They moved like men who had walked into places like this a hundred times before.
Isabel didn’t notice them at first. But she felt it—the change. The air shifted.
Then Laura leaned in. “Okay... did you see who just walked in?”
Isabel turned casually. Her eyes met his.
Jeremiah. Dressed in black. Cold and unreadable.
Their gazes locked for a second too long.
She turned back quickly. “No idea who that is.”
Laura shrugged. “Well, he looks like trouble.”
“They usually are,” Isabel muttered and finished the rest of her drink in one gulp.
Jeremiah didn’t approach them. He and his friend sat at a booth across the room, facing the girls without directly staring. But Isabel could feel his eyes. Like heat.
She tried to ignore it. Ordered another drink.
And another.
Soon, her voice got louder. Her laughs longer. The room started spinning, just a little.
“Bathroom break,” she said, standing a little too fast.
“You okay?” Laura asked, concerned.
“Totally,” Isabel grinned.
She made her way toward the back, walking with more sway than usual.
That’s when it happened.
She bumped into someone—spilled a drop of her drink on his shirt.
“Are you blind?” the man snapped, clearly drunk.
“Excuse me?” Isabel blinked, then scowled. “You walked into me.”
“You owe me a new shirt.”
“Buy one yourself,” she shot back.
The man stepped closer, face red, tone louder. “Little brat.”
People started to look.
“Touch me,” Isabel warned, “and I swear—”
Before it escalated further, a firm hand gripped the man’s shoulder.
Jeremiah.
He didn’t say anything at first—just stared at the man, unblinking.
“She’s with me,” he said at last. Quiet. Cold. Dangerous.
The man’s face changed. He backed off immediately, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.
Jeremiah turned to Isabel. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I can handle—”
“You’re drunk, Isabel.”
She blinked. “How do you know my name?”
He didn’t answer. Just gently took the drink from her hand and guided her toward the exit.
Outside, the air was cold. Sharp. She stumbled once, and Jeremiah caught her arm.
“Slow down,” he said.
“I’m not a child,” she mumbled.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She turned her head and looked up at him, squinting. “You’re always this charming?”
“No,” he said. “You just bring it out of me.”
She snorted, and for a moment, she almost smiled.
He helped her into the car and drove without saying much. Isabel leaned her head back, rambling under her breath about how loud the bar was, how people didn’t know how to mind their business, and how annoying men could be.
Then the car stopped.
She looked outside. Her building.
Her brows scrunched. “Wait… how do you know where I live?”
Jeremiah parked calmly. “You told me.”
“I did not.”
“You did. In the car.”
She blinked. “I don’t remember that.”
“You said it. Twice.”
She hesitated. Then laughed softly. “Maybe I did.”
He opened the door for her. She stepped out slowly, still a bit off balance. The streetlight lit up his face—sharp jaw, cold eyes, unreadable expression.
She stared at him for a beat. “You’re… weird.”
Jeremiah raised a brow. “Takes one to know one.”
She laughed again, more tired now. “Thanks, I guess.”
He gave a small nod and turned away, disappearing into the night like a shadow slipping back into the dark.
---
Back inside the bar, Laura sat alone, nursing the last of her cocktail. She noticed Jeremiah’s friend still sitting quietly across the room—watching everything, saying nothing.
Their eyes met briefly.
Then he looked away.
No one said a word.
- Writer
