Page 4 of Ava After Midnight

“Another round!” I call, ignoring Mia’s concerned look. “We’re just getting started.”

As the bartender lines up another row of shots, I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar—but my attention snags on him first.

He moves with an easy confidence, the kind that says he knows people watch him. Broad shoulders under a snug black dress shirt, sleeved rolled up just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. A lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he slides a drink to a waiting hand, eyes flicking up just briefly—landing on me.

Something sharp and immediate cuts through the haze of liquor—a pull, direct and undeniable. The kind of man Matthew would hate. The kind of man I’d never let myself want—until now.

I see myself in the mirror… lipstick smudged, my hair slipping free, pupils blown wide from the alcohol and adrenaline. I barely recognize the girl looking back at me.

Good.

I hesitate—just for a second. Just long enough to feel the weight of what I’m about to say.

“To always remembering who we are,” I toast, raising my glass.

The music is loud. The night is young. But my nerves are raw, thrumming beneath the alcohol. I tell myself to just enjoy it—to let go. But fun shouldn’t feel like standing on the edge of a cliff, like I’m about to jump without knowing if I’ll land or drown.

I’m terrified. I’m exhilarated. And I’m doing it anyway.

Every shot, every beat, every reckless choice tonight isn’t just testing the hinges—it’s prying the bars on Matthew’s carefully built cage loose. One crack, then another. I tell myself I can stop. That I will stop.

I should be afraid of losing Matthew. Maybe I am. But the closer I get to ‘I do’, the more it feels like I’m lying—to him, to my parents. To myself. Because when was the last time I felt wanted?Reallywanted?

Not for how well I fit into a plan, but for myself?

Fear isn’t a leash—it’s a dare. And tonight, I’m daring myself to want more.

I take the shot. I take the jump. And I don’t look back.

Chapter Two

DOMINGO

Seventh Sin wasn’t built for the faint of heart. Mateo and I made sure of that. It was meant to be a sanctuary for those who craved indulgence, who needed a place to lose themselves in the music, the bodies, the escape.

Lately, it feels less like a kingdom and more like a cage.

I built this place with Mateo, turned it into something untouchable. Now? I just play the part, hand them their escape, and pretend I don’t miss mine.

The bass vibrates through my bones as I polish glasses, neon dancing across crystal like electric hallucinations in liquid form. Another Friday night, another parade of privileged princesses burning daddy’s money.

I knew it before the doctors said it. You don’t need a diagnosis when your own body tells you the truth. I was smart enough to invest before everything went to hell.

It’s been six months since Mateo convinced me to keep myself busy. Since then, I’ve been killing time at Club Seventh Sin, watching nights bleed together—laughter too loud, vodka overpriced, attention fleeting.

Until her.

She moves like silk over bare skin, like a whispered promise at midnight, wrapped in a red dress that stops my hands mid-polish. Her friends flank her—a standard bachelorette crew in their matching sashes and tiaras. But there’s nothing standard about her.

“Four shots of your top-shelf tequila,” the blonde one demands, a black Amex pinched between manicured fingers. “We have to get wasted so I can watch Ava marry the man my parents always thought I’d end up with!”

I keep my movements lazy, controlled, even as my heartbeat kicks against my throat. The bride-to-be hasn’t looked at me yet, too busy swaying to the music. Strobe lights catch in her hair, creating a halo effect that’s almost unholy.

“Having fun celebrating?” I ask, though the sash screaming BRIDE TRIBE should be a warning sign—one I should pay attention to.

It’s a reminder of exactly why I shouldn’t be entertaining this, why I should pour her drink and move on. But the way she moves, the way she hasn’t spared a glance at the ring on her finger, makes me question if she’s thinking the same thing.

I just want to hear her voice.

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