Lust before love

Chapter three: We meet again

The bass thumped like a heartbeat through the Spectrum Lounge, lights flickering in time with the music. Celestia felt slightly out of place, perched on a high stool by the drink table, glass of sparkling water in hand, scanning the room she had been reluctantly dragged into by Gracie.

“This isn’t me,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Her red dress, soft satin that hugged her in ways that made her stomach flutter, felt both daring and foreign. She’d agreed to come because Gracie had promised distraction, a temporary escape from the chaos of midterms, heartbreak, and Blaze Lincoln’s unexpected appearances in her life.

And yet, the universe apparently had a sense of humor.

Celestia’s eyes drifted toward the center of the crowd, toward the dance floor, and froze.

He was there.

Blaze Lincoln.

The moment she saw him, standing a little off-center, phone in hand, laughing at something one of his friends had said, her pulse did a small, involuntary skip. Her mind immediately warned her: Don’t look. Don’t think. Don’t react.

And of course, she did all three.

He saw her too. And the second their eyes met, it was as if the music and chatter had dulled, leaving only a narrow tunnel where they existed. His brows lifted just slightly, his lips curving into that infuriatingly charming half-smile, the one that made her chest tighten.

“Of course he’s here,” Cel muttered under her breath.

Gracie nudged her. “Who? Oh—him? The tall one with the stupidly perfect hair? Don’t tell me you like him.”

“I don’t,” Cel said quickly, though the lie felt clumsy even as it left her lips.

Gracie smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure. You two are going to stare each other down all night, aren’t you?”

Celestia rolled her eyes and took a slow sip of her drink. She wasn’t going to let him see her flustered. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn’t going to…

“Celestia.”

The voice came from behind her.

She froze, heart lurching.

Blaze Lincoln.

He stepped close, lowering his voice over the music, not touching her, but close enough that the heat from his proximity seemed to pool in the small space between them. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said carefully, keeping her tone casual, though her hands clutched the glass like it was a shield.

“You look… amazing,” he said softly, and she could hear sincerity in the way he said it. Not the easy charm she’d encountered in the hallway or the smirk in the library—this was different. Vulnerable, almost hesitant.

Celestia swallowed. “Thanks.” Short. Polite. Firm.

He nodded. “Can I… ask you for a dance?”

She raised a brow. “A dance?”

“Yes. One dance. Just one. Nothing else.”

Celestia hesitated. Part of her wanted to walk away and retreat into the safety of the crowd. Another part—an annoying, irrational part—was curious. And maybe… just maybe… she wanted to see if he was different from the arrogant, frustrating boy she had encountered before.

“Fine,” she said finally, giving him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

The music was louder up close. He offered his hand, still careful, still respectful of her space. Celestia took it briefly before moving slightly to the side so they were just near each other rather than pressed together. They didn’t dance close. Just enough to feel the energy, to acknowledge the connection without surrendering anything.

“Better?” he asked, voice low.

“I suppose,” she said, her lips quirking slightly despite herself.

For a few minutes, they swayed to the music, neither talking much. Celestia kept her mind on the rhythm, on the people around her, on anything that would prevent her from imagining what it would feel like if he leaned closer.

Finally, Blaze tilted his head. “Do you want to get some air?”

She blinked. “Air?”

“Rooftop,” he said simply. “Quieter. Less… flashing lights, less music. Just us. No audience.”

Celestia considered it for exactly three seconds before nodding. Not because she wanted to get closer to him, but because she was curious—curious about this soft side he rarely showed and also she really wanted to get some fresh air.

The stairwell smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and old cement, but it was quiet, a welcome contrast to the packed, noisy party below. The city lights stretched endlessly, a glittering mosaic of golds and blues, and Celestia found herself leaning slightly against the railing, letting the breeze wash over her.

Blaze stood beside her, still careful to keep some distance. “Thanks for coming up,” he said quietly.

“For…?” she asked, though she already knew.

“For not ignoring me completely,” he admitted, his eyes scanning her face like he wanted permission to see her fully.

Celestia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t ignore you. I just… I have boundaries.”

“I know,” he said softly, and she realized he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t flirting, wasn’t charming. He just… acknowledged it. “I messed up before. I shouldn’t have—”

“You were messing up,” she interrupted, her voice sharp but calm. “Library. Hallway. Public displays. You need to learn some… self-control.”

He smirked faintly. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the city stretching endlessly beneath them, lights flickering like tiny reminders that life continued even if they were standing on a rooftop in the middle of a college party.

“You know,” Blaze said, breaking the silence, “I never actually got a proper hello. Or goodbye. Or… whatever that hallway thing was.”

Celestia glanced at him. “It was a mistake. We both know that.”

“Was it?” he asked, softer this time, almost vulnerable. “Because… I don’t think it was for me.”

Celestia felt a pang, but she ignored it, crossing her arms. “Well… it doesn’t matter. You’re still the same guy who was making out in the library yesterday.”

He flinched just slightly, like it stung more than he expected. “Yeah… I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. You had every right to be mad.”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” she said, surprising herself with how calm her voice sounded. “I was annoyed. And embarrassed.”

Blaze tilted his head, considering her. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who gets embarrassed easily.”

Celestia shrugged. “I’m usually not. You just… caught me off guard.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said softly, and she almost laughed. Almost.

For a few moments, they just looked at each other. The city hummed beneath them, and the noise of the party faded into the background. There was a tentative ease in the air, a fragile truce between two people who had clashed in ways neither wanted to admit they’d enjoyed.

“You know,” Blaze said, a hint of a smile touching his lips, “I’ve never been good at explaining myself. Or… feelings. Or… anything remotely normal.”

Celestia’s lips twitched, a small, reluctant smile forming. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“I guess I just wanted to… tell you a little about me,” he admitted. “Not that you asked. Or care. But… maybe you’ll listen.”

She raised a brow. “I’m listening.”

He exhaled, leaning slightly against the railing—not too close, just close enough to feel natural. “I like music more than anything. I’m in a band with my best friend Peter. I want to do this… professionally. But my dad—he doesn’t get it. He thinks business is practical. Safe. Important. Music… isn’t.”

Celestia tilted her head. “Sounds… hard.”

“It is. But it’s mine. And sometimes I mess up everything else because I think I can control… life… when I can’t.” He looked at her, and for a moment, the bravado was gone, replaced by something honest. Vulnerable. Real. “I don’t want to mess up with you. But I also… don’t know if I can help it.”

Celestia swallowed. “You’re not as reckless as you seem.”

“Maybe not. Maybe worse,” he teased lightly.

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You really are impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, voice dropping slightly, “you didn’t run. You didn’t leave. You didn’t… slap me.”

Celestia smirked. “I’m full of surprises.”

The breeze lifted her hair, the city lights reflected in her eyes, and for the first time, neither of them said anything awkward. No hallway kisses. No library scenes. Just… them.

Finally, Blaze glanced toward the stairs. “I should probably… go back. You should probably… enjoy the party.”

Celestia nodded. “Yeah. Don’t ruin anyone else’s night.”

He smirked. “I’ll try.”

And then he left her there, on the rooftop, the city sprawling below, the music faintly beating in the distance.

Celestia exhaled. Alone, she leaned against the railing and let herself feel it—a little curiosity, a little intrigue, and maybe… a little excitement.

Not for a kiss. Not for a drama. Not for Blaze Lincoln.

But for the possibility of… knowing someone unexpected.

And for the first time, she didn’t hate the thought.