Chapter 4

Scarlett's POV

Hannah was practically bouncing with excitement as we made our way back to our dorm. She had that mischievous look in her eye, the one that always meant trouble.

I should have known that this “fun” idea wasn’t going to be as simple as grabbing a quiet drink.

The moment we stepped inside, she flung open her closet like it held all the answers to the universe. “Scarlett,” she said, her voice filled with glee, “tonight is going to be epic. We’re going to make memories you’ll never forget.”

“Right. Is that code for me regretting every second of this?” I muttered, sitting on the edge of my bed.

She ignored me and kept on pulling out one outfit after another. Most of them were barely outfits at all—short, tight, and shiny.

Finally, she held up a tiny black top and an even tinier skirt. “This is perfect.”

I blinked at her. “That’s not an outfit. That’s…two napkins sewn together.”

Hannah laughed, playfully tossing the pieces at me. “Oh, come on! You’ve got the perfect body for it—long legs, that tiny waist, and, well, let’s not even talk about your chest. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

I frowned, holding the so-called outfit up to myself. “I can’t wear this. I’ll look ridiculous.”

“No, you’ll look hot. There’s a difference.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Scarlett, this is your first time at a bar. You have to go all out. Live a little!”

I hesitated. My reflection in the mirror showed a girl who looked unsure, maybe even scared. But deep down, I felt restless.

Maybe Hannah was right, maybe I needed to let go for once, just for tonight.

I sighed. “Fine. But if I fall over because this skirt’s too tight, it’s on you.”

“Yes!” she cheered, clapping her hands. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”

As soon as we stepped inside the bar, I felt every pair of eyes turn towards us, or rather, towards me. The place was packed with people, a mix of flashing neon lights and pounding music that made my chest vibrate. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and something faintly sweet lingered in the air.

Hannah leaned closer to my ear, shouting over the noise. “See? You’re a total head-turner!”

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I tried to ignore the stares. My outfit, as uncomfortable as it was, seemed to have done its job. I didn’t know if I felt flattered or like I wanted to crawl under a table.

We found a booth near the back, and I slid in, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. Hannah, of course, was thriving. She waved over a server and ordered drinks before I even had a chance to look at the menu.

“Loosen up, Scarlett,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”

Just then, a guy walked up to our table. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident smile that probably worked on most girls. “Hi there,” he said, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink?”

I hesitated, not sure of what to say. Before I could answer, Hannah piped up, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “She would love that!”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I said quickly, giving her a pointed look. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

The guy looked surprised but recovered quickly, flashing another smile. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, I’ll be over there.” He winked and walked off.

Hannah groaned, slumping against the table. “Scarlett, come on! He was cute!”

“I’m not here to flirt with random guys,” I said, crossing my arms.

“You’re killing me,” she said dramatically. “Killing me.”

Over the next hour, at least five more guys came up to our table. Some were polite, others a little too bold, but I turned them all down.

Hannah was ready to tear her hair out. “You’re impossible,” she said, throwing her hands up. “I give up.”

“Fine by me,” I said, sipping the soda I had ordered. “Now maybe we can just sit here in peace.”

But Hannah had other plans. She stood up suddenly and grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

“No way,” I said, pulling back. “I don’t know God to dance.”

“Seriously?”

“Sorry,” I replied nonchalantly.

“Then sit here and be boring,” she said, shrugging. “I’m going to have fun.” With that, she confidently walked towards the stage and joined the group of people already dancing to the lively music.

I watched as she threw herself into the music, twirling and laughing with strangers. It wasn’t long before a few guys joined her, dancing close.

The crowd cheered her on, their shouts and whistles blending into the music. She looked like she was having the time of her life.

Meanwhile, I felt more out of place than ever. The noise, the lights, the crowd—it was too much. I didn’t belong here.

I glanced towards the exit, thinking maybe it was time to leave.

Just as I stood up, the entire bar seemed to shift. The music cut off suddenly, leaving a deafening silence in its place. People looked around, confused, until the doors burst open.

Two lines of men in dark suits marched in, their faces cold and serious. They looked like bodyguards. They moved with military precision, parting the crowd as they went.

The room buzzed with whispers as everyone tried to figure out what was happening.

I sat back down, my heart racing. “What’s going on?” I whispered to myself.

Then, as if on cue, the bodyguards stopped, and then formed a path straight through the middle of the room.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

All eyes turned toward the entrance.

And that was when I saw him.

Liam DeLuca.

He stepped into the bar like he owned it. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without even trying. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that fit him perfectly, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead. And those eyes, those piercing blue eyes that had haunted me since this morning locked onto mine the moment he walked in.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

He was here.

And he was looking right at me.