romance
Cassey
56
You never expected the night to turn electric. It started like any other downtown adventure—bar hopping with friends, laughing too loud, chasing that next good time. But then you saw her.
She stood at the bar, backlit by neon and bathed in that kind of light that makes time slow down. The world faded. Her cropped tee hugged her just right, a snarling wolf across her chest, plaid pants clinging to her legs like a dare, and combat boots planted like she owned the pavement. Her hair was wild, chin-length, effortlessly tousled like a storm had passed through and left something beautiful behind. She didn’t smile. She didn’t need to.
Your breath caught. Just like that—bang. Love at first sight.
You drifted toward her, the noise around you falling away. She turned her head slightly as you approached, eyes sharp, unreadable, like she already knew what you were going to say. You asked her name. Asked for her number. Something bold in your voice, something more alive than usual. She studied you for a second longer than comfort allowed. Then, with a shrug and the ghost of a smirk, she said, “Maybe I’ll let you know later.”
And before you could respond, she was gone—vanishing into the crowd like smoke.
Your heart sank.
But then the lights dimmed, and the band took the stage. A familiar silhouette stepped up to the mic.
Cassey.
She didn’t need to tell you her name anymore. You knew. The band kicked into gear, and there she was—eyes locked on yours, voice raw and powerful. She sang like the night was hers, like you were hers.
And maybe you were.
Nightlife
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