It was just a sip. 

Sophia kept telling herself that it was just a sip. Her first sip of anything alcoholic- but just a sip nonetheless. The pink drink smelled sweet and served in a glass that gave the impression there was much more inside than there was. Eliza’s eyes were bright, wide sapphires only lit by the club’s dim house lights. She was grinning wide, her full lips strained by her picture-perfect straight teeth. Her braces were just taken off not too long, and Sophie was using that thought to focus on instead of the thumping bass of the music vibrating through her skimpily clothed body. There was a smear of red from her lipstick stuck to the front of one of Eliza’s teeth. Was she a horrible friend for not mentioning it? Her friend made another eager gesture to drink the liquid currently in the glass she was clutching like a lifeline. It was just a sip, she said to herself for the 50th time, it seemed. 

Lifting the beverage to her lips, Sophie tipped the sugary mixed liquor into her mouth and took a much larger gulp than she intended. The taste wasn’t so bad at first, but the vodka caused a line of uncomfortable heat to form from her throat to the pit of her empty stomach. She made a face at her friend, who burst into a fit of drunken giggles. The motion of it caused her tube top to dip precariously, and for a second, she was worried her friend was about to give everyone a show. 

“You didn’t like it,” Eliza accused with a grin on her face. She gulped down her own drink despite being drunk enough already. 

“I didn’t say that,” Sophie moved her shoulders uneasily but forced herself to take another swig of the mixed beverage. “It’s just… sweet.” 

Her companion’s only response to the lame excuse was a snort. Just one drink, and she would stop and keep an eye on Eliza. Another sip but this time, the heat wasn’t as uncomfortable as before. She began to feel a numbness in her chest, but more so, the heat it was causing was getting worse and worse. Sophie shifted on the bench in an attempt to unstick her legs from the vinyl. The dress she was wearing was tight and short, thanks to Eliza and her extensive wardrobe. Her friend pressured the girl into wearing the garment- which seemed more like a small piece of fabric than a complete outfit. Still, it was nothing like she ever wore before, and if her mother could see her now…

The thought of her mother caused Sophia’s hazy mindset to sharpen considerably. If her mother even knew about this moment of momentary rebellion, indeed, she could kiss her freedom goodbye in one fell swoop. What little freedom she had, anyways. Her mother had planned everything out for her since the moment she graced this world with her presence. Helena Barlowe was a perfectionist in all things, and that included child-rearing. Helena planned all eighteen years of Sophia’s life. How she dressed, how she ate, what she studied, and where. Nothing in her existence was supposed to go off the rails. And yet, here she was at a thumping nightclub in the middle of a cold October night with little more than a tight piece of fabric to cover herself. Not to mention, she was the one responsible for getting them both into the club. The fake IDs she made were passable; Eliza showed her gratitude by inviting her along for a good time.

Not that she minded. Eliza was a free spirit, the exact opposite of Sophia in many ways. Her dazzling blue eyes were clad in thick eyeliner and mascara daily. Her curvy form was often on display in the hopes of attracting attention from others. While Sophia remained the plain girl with little to no make-up, her honey blonde hair always pulled up in a bun, and her hazel eyes hidden behind books. She never thought she could attract the kind of attention Eliza did. The curvier girl was more like a light, and Sophie would only ever be a moth drawn to her. 

“Hello, ladies.” The voice suddenly rang out behind Sophie’s shoulder, causing her to snap back to the reality of the situation. 

The two girls craned their necks up to see who approached their small table covered in empty glasses from Eliza. Their eyes met those of two alluring men with bold and brash smiles blossoming on their rosy pink lips. Their eyes were dark, too dark almost, which was a stark difference to the bright white of their teeth. The one who spoke had a charming, boy-next-door look to him. The man styled his perfectly trimmed brown locks in such a way that made it seem effortlessly messy. Like he rolled out of bed, ran his fingers through his hair, and simply went about his day. His voice matched the persona he displayed to them- dripping with sweet honey and appeal. But Sophie’s eyes only briefly dissected this man’s appearance before her gaze locked onto the man standing behind him. 

The quiet gentleman had a slight smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he remained silent as he scanned the drunken face of Eliza and then Sophia. His sharp, angular face was similar to that of a greek sculpture. His broad forearms were crossed over his chest, giving off the impression that he would instead go anywhere than to be there speaking with the two of them. And yet, here he was. When his black eyes connected with Sophie’s, she felt her insides quiver and retract. The cold goosebumps that rippled along her arm were clear warning signs to her muddled mind. This man was beyond dangerous. But before the girl could nudge her friend under the table, Eliza was already speaking with a level of loudness that let on to her drunken state. 

“Hello to you,” her gaze darkened, but the giggles gave her away instantly. So she was trying to seduce this man? This grown man? Panic set in as Sophia’s wide eyes moved from the giggling Eliza to the strange men who made an unwelcome appearance. “Why don’t you come and take a seat with us?”

The man seemed happy with her response; however, his companion only lifted a thick black eyebrow at the girl. “Yes, I would like that very much. But it would be a waste just to sit around when there is a good song and beautiful women to dance with.” 

He offered his hand to Eliza, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. Sophie felt herself suck the inner part of her cheek in between her teeth and nibble it absentmindedly with worry as she watched her friend being pulled onto the dance floor. It didn’t take her long to realize she was now alone with the man with a darker disposition and even taller frame. If she had to make an educated guess, she would conclude he was over six feet tall, probably close to 6’2”. He tilted his head down at her, and that forced smile remained in place. 

“I suppose that leaves the two of us. Would you like to have a dance with me?” Her eyes widened at the sound of his deep, brassy voice. What was even more surprising was the hint of accent clipping each sound as he spoke. Where could that accent be from regionally? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it sounded vaguely Mediterranean. 

“I think… that would be alright,” she said hesitantly. She reached for the man’s hand, and he took it quickly in his own. The feeling of his roughened palm on her skin shouldn’t have her reacting the way she did. But she felt her stomach roll with only the sugar content of her drink keeping things down. She was disgusted, and it took everything in her not to pull away.