We're at the third club for the night. I'm tired. I miss my bed. And I want to catch a late-night dinner with Mum like we used to do with Dad when I was a kid—if she's around, that is. Maybe even get a lift home if Diaz doesn't mind driving around. But the boys aren't done yet. They have bottomless stomachs, blood-alcohol-poisoning level tolerance for booze of all kinds, and an insatiable appetite for music that's too loud and people that are loose-limbed and even looser-willed.

And obviously, they're all hoping to score tonight.

I'm not into that insta shit. Sure, I enjoy looking at beautiful people, wondering what they're like, but give me someone I can talk to without having to yell over noise. Give me the quiet ones you have to puzzle out, the ones that shy away from all this chaos of young lives and do their own thing. Give me someone I can look forward to seeing again and again, not just once and done. Someone who doesn't mind if days stretch with only the two of us.

The line ahead of us is barely moving, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Maybe I'll tell the boys I'm done and they'll be okay. I can just slip away, hitch a ride with Ma and—

"What you think, Haddy?" Andy's words hiss in my ears over the din of music. He slings his heavy-with-alcohol arm onto my tired shoulders as I get my phone out to message Ma.

"What?"

He nudges me in the ribs, and when I look up from my phone, his brows dance suggestively.

"What? What do I think"—I quickly press send on the message before he pays close attention to it.

Club #3, I can't see the name on the door, but ama drop you a pin. there's a faint outline of that head logo from that fancy brand Uncle Sushant likes.

"—of what?" I slip my phone away and give him my full attention, lest I hear him complain later, 'You were there, but you weren't there, man!'

"That group over there." He twitches his head towards a loud group at the front of the line. Of one of the two young women, there with their four young male tagalongs, is looking our way. I can't tell who she is looking at in the dirty darkness of the alleyway, nor do I care.

"I think I might call it a night." I shrug his arm off. "I'm buggered, and tomorrow is the first day of my flight school." Not really. My first day isn't for another couple of days, but they don't know that.

"You can't abandon us yet. It's too early!" Andy's friend Simone suddenly claws at my arm as if she's devastated to hear I'm leaving. "This is your birthday bash. Both of yours"—she points an unsteady finger at Andy and I. "We need to do one more toast. Come on. This is like the great club down under and tonight DJ Dino is on. Just one more hour and you can call it quits."

Beside me, Andy wiggles his brows. He's been suggesting all night that Simone and I 'get it on,' but I don't know how to tell him blondes aren't my jam. Especially blondes who act too familiar. Give me a brunette with lush hair and mischievous eyes that bore into your soul, eyes that hide a storm of emotions ready to be deciphered. Give me a puzzle! Someone worthy of my time, my life. Someone different. Someone I'll recognise the moment I see her, even though I've never met her. Someone special.

But I can't say any of this or I'll never hear the end of it.

"Fine. This is the last one. Mum's my ride—when she finishes her shift, I'm splitting—only because I can't be bothered catching the train home." Again, they don't need to know the truth, that I'm simply done hitting clubs aimlessly—well, at least aimlessly for me. They are all chasing a night of no-strings-attached passion.

"Yes!" Andy mock rapid-punches my ribs and slings his enormous arm around my neck again. The guy is all muscle, honestly. He takes this moment to whisper, "Simone was asking for your digits. Shall I give it?"

I shake my head. No.

Andy turns to the back, his arm tightening around my neck slightly as he tugs me closer, and quietly hisses again, "Dude, she's the hottest one hereee—"

He near-whistles the last word in my ear and I push him off. "Bro."

But he's not paying attention to me. In fact, no one is. Not that I expect to be the center of attention here for no good reason.

They are all looking behind me. Every single person in the line, even the giant bouncers who defy the logic of what a natural human body ought to look like.

"What?" I say as Andy absentmindedly pats my chest and whispers, "Her."

Her? Her who?

I turn in time to see the one every person is fixed upon.

Her.

The moment I see her, I'm done for.

The moment her gaze catches mine briefly, I know it.

She could lead me by the hand and tell me to jump off a bridge, and I'll do it.

Her

She is a damn goddess among lackluster humans. Bright as a burning nova. A nebula around which men and women linger in hope, in lust, in desperate need for her to notice them.

My heart thumps like a rabbit in my chest. Her—with her burning eyes; her lush brown hair, the cascade around her otherworldly face almost gravity-defying. She wears what looks like an artist's take on the toga. Her. With her skin aglow, and her gaze roaming over us pheasants like a goddess descended from the Heavens — not The Havens, two entirely different things.

I can't stop looking at her. I know I should, but it's as if the whole crowd is hypnotised, unable to peel our gazes off her arresting face.

Staring is rude, Anghad! Ma's voice nags in the bag of my mind as Andy flutters his hand on my chest again. "Dude. Hit that."

I'm not sure he knows what he's saying. I ignore him on the account that my brain—and everyone else's—has disassociated from our bodies.

Her, my heart trumpets. It's her.

Staring is rude, Ma continues. Behave.

I try my hardest to look away, anywhere. I focus my gaze to the corner of my eye, at Andy's ridiculously spiky, gelled hair, but my focus keeps shifting back to her.

Anghad! Ma yells.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare. I think, more to the siren among us than to the unwelcomed home Ma has made in my head.

"I'm sorry," I manage in a fog of whisper in the air.

Her eyes skips over our group again before slinging back to meet me; a look that could kill. Set a thousand hearts on fire.

I'm sorry... I don't mean to...

It'zzz okay! I almost hear in my head.

"Hit that," Andy continues on repeat. She broke his brain.

We watch her—try as we might to be civil—head straight to the front of the line. No excuse me, no sorry. The confidence in her strides shrinks any rebellion that she is cutting the line.

The bouncers, often rude to line cutters, snap to attention, hold the scanner out to her as if it's some sacred tablet, and sign her in, then open the bifold doors for her like royalty.

Who is she?

Within seconds, she's gone though—seconds that felt like eons, stretched and taut, and time snaps back into place the minute she's out of sight.

"What was that?" I breathe, unaware I'd held my breath.

"Who was that?" Andy pants, letting out his huff of breath. "Dude. Who was that?"

In fact, we're not the only ones. Around us, a collective whoosh of air releases from burning lungs.

"Who was that?" Echoes and crescendos. An explosion of excitement—the symphony of a thousand birds chirping. It's almost deafening.

So defeaning I struggle to hear Andy despite him yelling into my ear. "Ama grind that!" he says confidently.

"Sure you are!" I laugh, suddenly feeling the urge to be a human wall between her and a barrage of men and women heading her way in a minute. She's mine! My heart dares to squeak, words worthy of a fool.

She's a woman, and she is nobody's but her own! Ma chides. I thought I taught you better than that! If you disrespect her or any woman, Anghad, I swear to god, I will whoop some sense into your head so quick you'll think twice.

Minutes later, we enter the club. The music thumps so loud I can barely gather my thoughts. I can't see her anywhere. Perhaps she's at the centre of that dance floor. Bodies upon bodies buoy out on the dance floor. She's lost in that sea. And who was I kidding? I have no chance with her. None. The last time I asked a girl out, it didn't go down well, and the line to get even a chance to get close enough to her is probably zero.

I'll cut my losses. I was heading home anyway. I'll just shout my lot one last round of drinks and split. This really isn't my scene.

"I'm headed for the bar—I'll buy a round for everyone," I tug Andy and shout to be heard over the music. "Text me what everyone wants or I'll just get a round of T." I gesture towards the bar on the other side of the floor.

Andy gives me a thumbs up and I melt onto the floor, passing melting bodies jamming to the beats, hoping that with each body I pass, I get to see her again. Her. She's been on my mind since I saw her.

Some techno, retro music, something that vaguely reminds me of the ones Ma used to listen to back when Dad was still alive, ebbs and flows around me, vibrating every particle of air, and my heart skips with the beats. Her. I scan the crowd as I go. Just a glimpse. I'd love even just a glimpse.

I'm so distracted I don't know how I reach the other end alive, but I do—with no luck spotting her. I land on a patch of that bar that's relatively thin on the crowd and wait for my turn, tapping my feet to the beats. Too bad this is where I call it a night. At least it's the only club tonight with good music. I'll come back another day maybe, without the troupe, maybe just Andy.

"What can I get you?" The bartender swings their attention my way, their left pierced brow hiking up.

"Five tequila shots." I yell over the noise.

Somehow, half an hour later, I'm buying another round, and then another. Soon, I don't know how many rounds of tequila I've had or how long I've been there, at the bar, thinking this is the last drink. But the last drink never comes. Why? Because every time I think that's it, I'm done, I glimpse her in the crowd, sometime talking to this guy or that girl, sometimes brushing this one off or the other; and every time I'm hoping I'll bump her this time surely, and I'll get to say hi. Just hi. At least hi.

But each time, she is closer and closer to our circle, but never alone, and when I think I'll just butt in, I can't seem to make a move on her or make a move to leave. There's a strange pull that keeps me rooted. In fact, the crowd in the club has thickened like molasses since she's been here and doesn't seem to thin. From our vantage point on the edges of the club, I can see these concentric circles around her as she moves, just like a black hole, pulling on the surrounding bodies.

At one point, exhausted and losing hope, I stand to go. I do. But Andy holds me back.

"Fine! Be a wussy! Leave!" He swings these words like lumberjack swings his axes. "But—"

There is always a 'but' with him. I have to 'earn my leave' every time I'm the first to leave these outings. Fine. I'll play.

"What do I have to do?" I ask as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I cast a glance at my wristwatch—actually, Dad's, an old analogue with its ticking arms, a watch only a handful of people can read these days. What a shame. It's almost two in the morning. I really should go. Mum finishes up soon, for real. May as well catch a ride home. I can't stand another drink or another disappointing trip across the floor in search of her.

"You can't leave the club—" Andy pauses.

I look up to see his dancing brows suggestively once more. Shit. What do I have to do this time? "I'm not hooking up with Selina tonight just to please you, mate," I preempt, throwing a, "I'm sorry, it won't be right," her way, and the poor woman's toothpaste ad smile dissipates.

Andy pouts. Obviously, I just vetoed his clever plan. Eye roll! He looks around a moment, scanning the club, mumbling, "Fine, no hookup, but... you still can't leave the club alone—whether or not you hook up, is a bonus.

"Do you accept the challenge?" He grins at me, eyeing Selina as an easy suggestion. And yeah, it would be easy if I headed out with her, but something tells me she'll be hard to shake afterwards. She seems like the clingy time. Been there, done that. Never again. The restraining order at the bottom of my desk comes to mind—thank god for Dad then, and now, Mum, I guess.

"Fine. Chuck in your rarest Pokemon card—the one missing from my collection, which you have—and I'll walk out with someone you choose, anyone who didn't come here with us tonight," without thinking I blurt out.

Beside him, Seline looks a little deflated. Sorry, girlfriend. We're never gonna happen. I'm not about to tap someone Andy was with once. That's just—awkward. And I like avoiding awkward. Just ask my mum.

"Fine. I'll give you my rarest card if you can get." Andy looks around the club in search of a target. "Her to leave with you, no exception. Or, you forfeit your entire collection to me? Deal?"

I follow his hand to see who he's pointing at behind me, only to be floored. He's pointing at her.

Her.

And no exception? Meaning, I can't chicken out of this.

How the hell am I supposed to get her to leave this club with me?

"Go on. You've been eyeing her all night. Don't think I didn't see you," he adds, hanging off my neck again. "Or are you chicken shit, Reina? Bawk-bawk! Either that or stay here until we are good and ready to leave together—unless, of course, I get in on that. Then it's bawk you later, peoples."

I look at her figure swimming before me. A goddess among us mortals. And I shouldn't. I know shouldn't, but it's probably the alcohol-induced bravery talking—and my stupid eager heart—but I say okay, what have I got to lose?

"Excellent." Andy pushes me towards her. "Don't take a no for an answer. Charm her pants off, lover boy!"

I come to a stop in front of her. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I say? I fumble for words, and out tumbles, "You're everything I never knew I always wanted." A stupid damn quote from a stupid old movie I watched with Ma on the weekend? Really?

I smile at her and hope it works. Fuck. What if I've made a fool of myself?

She regards me a moment; her initial shock dissolves and something shifts in those intoxicating eyes of hers, something primal. "What's your name, boy?"

I feel my face twitch—boy? But okay. If it works, it works. I smile wider. "Anghad."

Two things happen then. Her eyes pin me where I am and it's like I cannot move. Behind me, Andy hoots over the music, "Yeah, go get her, tiger!"

Yay? My heart nervously flutters under her arresting gaze. What am I doing?

"Can I get you another Midori splice...?" I eye the almost-finished green drink in her hand, fishing for her name. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Her lip curves in one corner, and she offers her hand, like a queen. "Call me Meddy, the boy who's always wanted me without knowing it." There's a strange huskiness in her voice, like a wind blowing through a distant tunnel. A certain hiss.

I take her hand and kiss it, like they do in movies. Who am I? But she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and right now, she's taking an interest in me. Maybe I got this.

"About that drink. What will it be?" I ask, unable to wipe the stupid smile off my silly face.

WC: 17, 322

A/N: This chapter started so simply and blew up. The idea was to show Reina's son meeting Meddy, but the preamble took so long... I hope the pacing works for you. 

Was there any tension in this chapter? Or did I completely murder it? (Oh, man... I am not at all sure I did this chapter well... again, I'm sorry.)

Next: Reina.