Page 2 of Wrapped Up

My breath catches in my throat, and a fluttering sensation fills the pit of my stomach. For a moment, I can't look away. He's undeniably attractive, the kind of man who commands attention without even trying. The kind of man I used to fall for, hook, line, and sinker.

The kind of man who always breaks my heart.

I force my gaze away, my fingers tightening around my glass. No. I won't go down that road again. I've been burned too many times, and it left me with nothing but ashes and regret. The last thing I need is another charming smile hiding a heart of ice.

But even as I try to focus on anything else, I can feel the phantom pull of his presence. It's ridiculous. I don't even know him. He could be a complete jerk, for all I know. He probably is, if my past dating patterns are any indication.

“Jenn!” Anna's voice cuts through my thoughts, bright and bubbly. “Come on, it's time to dance!”

Before I can protest, she's grabbing my hand, tugging me towards the crowded dance floor. I stumble, nearly spilling my drink.

“Anna, wait—”

Too late. The music thrums through me as we plunge into the mass of bodies.

My best friend twirls, her flowy bohemian dress swirling around her legs like a kaleidoscope of colors. She's a vision of carefree joy; her blonde hair catches the light as she throws her head back, laughing.

I glance down at my own outfit—a fitted black dress that hugs my curves, its neckline modest, hemline skimming just above my knees. A far cry from Anna’s free-spirited ensemble, but it feels like me. I smirk, remembering Felix's critiques:

“You should show more skin,” he'd say, his eyes roving over my body with barely concealed disappointment. “Dress sexier. You've got the body for it.”

The memory stings, but I shove it aside. Tonight, I'd decided to embrace my femininity on my own terms. The dress is a little more form-fitting than my usual fare, the fabric clinging to my hips and waist in a way that makes me feel powerful rather than exposed.

Anna catches my eye and grins, grabbing my hands and spinning me around. “You look amazing, Jenn!” she shouts over the music. “That dress is killer! You're turning heads left and right.”

I glance back towards the bar, involuntarily seeking out the stranger. Heat blooms in my cheeks as our gazes lock, and he smiles—slow and devastatingly sexy.

No. I wrench my eyes away, breaking the spell. I'm not doing this. I've been burned before, and I refuse to let another pretty face lead me into making the same mistakes.

The music shifts, a sultry rhythm taking over. Anna immediately grabs Peter, who had been chatting with a friend at the bar, and now he's watching us from the sidelines with an indulgent smile.

As Anna melts into Peter's arms, I feel a pang of longing deep in my chest. I squash it down, forcing a smile.

“I'm gonna hit the ladies' room,” I shout over the music. “You two lovebirds enjoy yourselves.”

Anna flashes me a concerned look, but I wave her off. I need a moment alone, away from the swaying couples and the pulsing beat that seems to mock my solitude.

I weave through the crowd, the heat of bodies pressing in on all sides. The air feels thick, heavy with perfume, sweat, and unfulfilled desires. As I reach the edge of the dance floor, my skin prickles with awareness, and I know without looking that the handsome stranger is still watching me. I quicken my pace, my heels clicking against the floor in a staccato rhythm that matches my racing pulse.

What is wrong with me? One look from a stranger rattle me like this. I'm stronger now. Smarter. I've learned my lesson about men with smoldering eyes and secret smiles.

I push open the bathroom door, grateful for the relative quiet inside. Leaning against the sink, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes wide and bright. I look... alive. Vibrant. She's nothing like the dull, lifeless woman I've seen staring back at me for months.

“Get it together, Jennifer,” I mutter, splashing cold water on my face. “He's just a guy. Probably another Felix waiting to happen.”

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my dress and running a hand through my hair. It's just attraction, I tell myself. A fleeting moment of connection in a sea of strangers. Nothing more.

I straighten my spine, shoulders squared as I push open the bathroom door. The music hits like a wall, an onslaught of sound and flashing lights. I brace myself, matching my internal mantra to the beat:Don’t look. Don’t hope. Don’t fall.

Love is a trap, I remind myself.A beautiful lie wrapped in shiny paper and tied with a bow of false promises.I've been down that road before, and I've got the emotional scars to prove it. No matter how intense his gaze is, no matter how that smile makes my insides liquify, I'm not falling for it again.

The dance floor comes into view, and I spot Anna and Peter, locked in an intimate embrace. They're swaying to a rhythm all their own, lost in each other’s eyes. The familiar pang of longing tugs at my chest, but I force it down. I’m happy for them, truly. But their kind of love? It's just not in the cards for me.

Shaking off the melancholy threatening to settle over me, I make my way to the bar. I need another drink, something to match this bitter taste in my mouth.

“Whiskey, neat,” I tell the bartender as I slide onto a stool. It's not my usual choice, but tonight calls for something with a bite.

As I wait for my drink, I can't help but let my eyes wander. I'm not looking for him, I tell myself. I'm just... observing. Yeah, that's it. But the disappointment that settles in my stomach when I don't see those broad shoulders or that mess of black hair tells a different story.

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