CLOSE MOVES

The club was not our scene.

I knew it the second we stepped inside.

The bass thrummed through the floor, pulsing in my chest, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, alcohol, and something else—something that made the atmosphere heavy and intoxicating. The lighting was dim, flashes of neon slicing through the darkness, and the crowd was a restless, shifting entity of people pressed too close together.

Nate had outdone himself.

"This is… something," I muttered under my breath, leaning slightly toward Mark.

He exhaled sharply, his hand resting on the small of my back as he guided me through the entrance. "It's loud."

I smirked. "That tends to happen in clubs."

Mark shot me a look, but there was something resigned in his expression. He wasn't any more comfortable than I was, but we were here, and that meant we had to play along.