Clover’s POV
Something is off. But before that, I’m actually looking for someone.
My eyes move across the room, scanning faces, bodies, stage lights, shadows, anywhere a familiar figure might pop out.
Cameroon, that i***t.
I lean forward slightly, squinting toward the dancers gathering near the stage. Nope, not there. I check the VIP section, bar, and entrance. Still nothing.
“…You better not have stood me up,” I mutter under my breath.
Because this whole night? This entire chaotic, unnecessary, slightly traumatic night? Was partly because of him.
I sit back, crossing my legs, scanning again. Nothing.
“Wow,” I sigh quietly. “So he’s not even one of the dancers?”
That’s… disappointing. Annoying even. I pick up my drink, taking a slow sip, still glancing around. Maybe he’s late or
