Page 67 of Picture Perfect

The front door opens to a wall of sound and bodies, the air thick with the scent of sweat and something sweet and heady. I can barely think over the noise, my heart pounding in time with the relentless beat of the music. Gen's grip on my hand tightens as we're jostled by the crowd, pulled along by an invisible current.

"Got you," Chess says, his voice low in my ear. The press of his body against mine is both a shield and an anchor, keeping me grounded when all I want to do is turn and run.

"Stick together," Saint calls out, his stature carving a path through the chaos for us to follow.

Every step feels like walking through molasses, the world around me a blur of faces and flashing lights. I try to focus on the familiarity of my friends, on the reality that they won't let anything happen to me.

"Let's find somewhere less... intense," Gen suggests, eyeing the throng warily. I nod my agreement.

"Lead the way, fearless leader," Chess quips, but his light tone doesn't quite mask the alertness in his posture, the protective sweep of his gaze as he takes in our surroundings.

"Follow me," Saint directs, and we fall into step behind him.

The bass of the music vibrates through my body like a second heartbeat, erratic and all-consuming. The din of chatter and laughter tangles with the rhythm, and for a moment, I close my eyes, letting the cacophony wash over me.

"Addy!" Gen's voice slices through the noise, and I snap my attention back to her. She's grinning, mischief lighting up her features. "Come on, don't just stand there!"

I hesitate, but then Chess is at my side, his gaze warm and encouraging. "Relax," he says, and something about the honesty in his hazel eyes makes me believe him. "Dance with us."

"Okay." It's barely audible, even to myself, but they hear it.

Gen takes the lead, pulling me by the hand toward the throng of bodies swaying and jumping in time with the throbbing beat. I spot Wesley across the room, beer in hand and looking like he's several deep already—my brother, the golden boy, looking every bit the part. Beside them, Preston laughs at something unheard, his arm wrapped around Cecily who is staring daggers in my direction. They're in their element, while I'm still trying to find mine.

"Relax, Addy," Gen shouts over the music, her words punctuated by the beat. "It’s just us here!"

Just us, I repeat in my mind, trying to shed the weight of self-consciousness that clings to me like a second skin. Just us, and no one else matters.

Chess slides closer, our hips meeting in a dance that feels both daring and safe. His hands are respectful yet possessive, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Dre stands a little distance away, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, but his ice-blue eyes follow every move, intense and unblinking. And though I can't see Saint, I sense him, like a silent guardian whose watchful presence wraps around us.

"See?" Gen spins, her laughter mingling with the lyrics of the song. "This is fun!"

"Fun," I echo, a hesitant smile creeping onto my lips. As the music surges, I find my body responding, a tentative sway growing bolder with each pulse of the melody. "Yeah, maybe it is."

"Definitely is," Chess corrects gently, guiding my movements with subtle pressure, teaching me the language of letting go without using words.

"Look at you!" Gen cheers, twirling into my vision again, her hair catching the light like midnight. "You’re a natural."

"Hardly," I laugh, the sound foreign to my ears. But when Chess grins down at me, his teeth bright against his olive skin, I start to think maybe I could get used to this version of myself—the one who dances in the eye of the storm, fearless and free.

"Keep going, Addy," Chess urges, his voice a low rumble that matches the beat. "I've got you."

And for a moment, under the pulsing lights and enveloped by the warmth of friends who feel more like family than my own blood ever did, I believe him. I really do.

??????

The bass throbs through the soles of my shoes, a steady heartbeat that's become as familiar as my own. But nature calls—loudly, urgently—and I twist away from the dance floor's gravitational pull. "Bathroom," I shout over the music to Gen, when her eyes turn to me I mouth a 'be right back.'

"Got it, Addy! Hurry back!" she yells, her voice barely cutting through the cacophony.

Chess is reluctant to let me go, but I assure him I'll be quick and I'm gone before he has the chance to follow.

I weave through the mass of undulating bodies, the heat and the scent of sweat and stale beer clinging to the air. Each step is an effort, like wading through a sea of limbs and laughter. The farther I get from Gen and the boys, the thicker the crowd seems to grow.

"Excuse me," I murmur as I squeeze past a couple locked in an embrace so tight they seem to be fusing together. My heart hammers a little faster, not from exertion but from the sudden sense of isolation in the throng. It's ironic how loneliness can find you in the most crowded spaces.

The restroom finally comes into view, a beacon of relief, and I hasten my steps. As I push through the door, it swings back with a thud. Inside, the chaos dulls to a muffled hum, and I take a moment to breathe, alone at last.

I try to be quick, not wanting to stay separated long. I’m feeling more comfortable than when we arrived, but I still feel out of place here. When I exit the bathroom, the hallway feels eerily deserted compared to the party's epicenter. I'm smoothing down my skirt when a shadow detaches itself from the wall, and suddenly there's a hand on my elbow, heavy and unwelcome.

---