Where the Waves Taught me Love

Chapter Three: Another Wild Night

I leaned closer to the mirror, steadying my eyeliner with the precision of a surgeon. A little wing, a touch of highlight, and just the right shade of lipstick—perfect. I fluffed my hair with both hands, admiring how it framed my face. Tonight had to be good. No—tonight had to be unforgettable.

Just as I capped the lipstick, a loud horn blared outside. I jumped slightly, then hurried to the window. Down by the gate, a sleek car idled, headlights flashing. My friends were already waving wildly from the backseat, their laughter spilling into the night air.

Excitement bubbled in my chest. I grabbed my bag, slipped on my heels, and practically flew down the stairs. The second I stepped out, the cool night breeze hit me, and I felt alive again.

“Sabrinaaa!” they screamed in unison, voices full of energy.

“Let’s go!” I shouted back, sliding into the car. Music blasted the moment the door shut, the bass vibrating through the leather seats. We were grinning, yelling, hands thrown in the air as the car sped toward the city lights.

***

The bar was already buzzing when we arrived. Neon signs flickered, the thrum of music shook the floor, and people spilled out onto the sidewalks, laughing and shouting. Inside, it was even wilder—flashing lights, a packed dance floor, bartenders juggling bottles like performers.

“This place is insane!” Yannie squealed, dragging me to the bar. We ordered shots, lined them up, and downed them one by one, slamming the glasses against the counter as we cheered.

Warmth spread through me, loosening my body, sending a rush of adrenaline straight to my veins. Soon, we were on the dance floor, moving with the crowd, hair flying, drinks spilling.

Halfway through a song, one of my friends tugged me closer, leaning into my ear. “Sabrina, you have to meet him!” she shouted over the music, pointing toward a tall boy standing just a few feet away.

He was cute—messy hair, easy smile, eyes that lingered a second too long. He looked older, confident, like someone who belonged in this chaos.

“This is Liam,” Liza introduced, practically shoving me forward.

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin. His voice was smooth, confident, and just a little mischievous. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” I replied, tilting my head just slightly, letting the music carry me closer.

“Nice to meet you, beautiful.”

“Yeah. You too.” My voice came out lighter than I intended, almost playful.

He gestured toward the bar. “Come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

I hesitated for half a second, then shrugged, following him through the crowd. My heels clicked against the sticky floor as we squeezed past dancing bodies and found a spot at the counter. The bartender was already juggling bottles, neon lights bouncing off the shiny surface.

“What’s your poison?” Liam asked, leaning close so I could hear him over the music.

I tapped my chin dramatically, pretending to think. “Surprise me.”

His grin widened. “Risky.” He turned to the bartender and ordered something I didn’t catch. A moment later, two tall glasses clinked down in front of us, fizzing with bright color.

He handed me one, his fingers brushing mine briefly. “Cheers.”

I raised the glass. “Cheers.”

The first sip was strong—sweet at the start, then burning all the way down. I coughed lightly, but laughed it off. “Okay… not bad.”

“Not bad?” He smirked. “That’s one of the best drinks on the menu.”

“Guess you’ll just have to convince me,” I teased, taking another sip. The alcohol was already warming me, making the edges of the world feel softer, lighter.

We leaned against the bar, talking while the music pulsed through the room. He asked me about school, about what I liked to do for fun. I kept my answers vague, careful not to mention anything too personal—like my dad, or the fact that I was supposed to be “grounded” from life itself. Instead, I painted a version of myself I wanted him to see: carefree, untouchable, the kind of girl who lived for the night.

“And you?” I asked, twirling the straw in my glass. “What’s your deal?”

He shrugged casually. “Just a guy who likes good music and better company.” His eyes lingered on mine when he said it, and I felt a flutter in my stomach I quickly drowned with another sip.

The conversation slipped easily into laughter, teasing, little comments that felt charged with something more. Before long, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The gesture was bold, almost cocky, but I didn’t pull back.

“You know,” he said, leaning closer, “you don’t exactly blend into a crowd.”

I arched a brow, fighting a smile. “Is that your way of calling me loud?”

“Not loud,” he said, smirking. “Magnetic.”

I laughed playfully, swirling the straw in my glass. “Is this how you get a girl?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and low. “Hey, I’m not a playboy.”

“Uh-huh?” I tilted my head, giving him a mock-skeptical look.

“Yeah,” he said, hand resting casually against the bar as his eyes stayed fixed on me. “I don’t chase. If someone catches my attention, it’s because they’re worth it.”

My smile faltered just enough for him to notice, because there was something in his tone that wasn’t entirely a joke. For a split second, the air between us felt charged, heavier than before.

I rolled my eyes to cover it. “Smooth talker.”

“Only when I mean it,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly.

The warmth of the alcohol mingled with the heat of his words, and suddenly the music felt distant, like we were in our own little bubble. My pulse quickened, and when he leaned a fraction closer, I didn’t move away.

“You’re trouble,” I whispered, though my grin betrayed me.

“And you like it,” he whispered back.

I should’ve laughed, should’ve thrown another sarcastic remark his way. Instead, I felt the tug—reckless, irresistible. Before I knew it, his hand brushed against my waist, pulling me closer, and my breath hitched.

The next second, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was anything but gentle—hungry, urgent, tasting of alcohol and adrenaline. I melted into it, fingers curling against his shirt, letting the music and chaos swirl around us, forgotten.

The kiss was deeper now, rougher, his hands sliding to my waist as if he couldn’t get close enough. I clung to his shirt, pulling him down to me, losing myself in the rush. Every brush of his mouth against mine sent sparks skittering down my spine.

We stumbled back toward the couch, laughing breathlessly in between kisses, heat rising with every second. His forehead pressed to mine as if grounding me, yet everything felt like spinning—wild, reckless, unstoppable.

As his lips traced a path down my jaw, I closed my eyes and let go, surrendering to the fire between us. Reckless or not, I didn’t care.

***