He had been hired to work at a party—the kind of party where only the rich, spoiled, and greedily polished showed up. And honestly? That was already enough to irritate him. Well, one of many things. Despite his growing list of pet peeves, he couldn't deny it: this party looked expensive. No... it was expensive. Like a ball straight out of a history book—something for kings and queens, dripping in gold and pretense.

And him? He was just the security guard.

The air buzzed with laughter, posh chatter, and the swish of designer dresses and tailored suits. It was overwhelming. He hated this kind of crowd—people who believed money bought class, souls, and probably the moon if they bargained hard enough. It was ridiculous. And annoying. But funny, too, in a tragic kind of way.

Then, he saw her...

Amid the glitter and fake smiles, she stood out. A girl—young, pretty, with an air of quiet detachment. She didn't belong here, not really. She wasn't loud or fake. She looked like she was hiding a secret. Or maybe was a secret.

But he snapped out of it. He wasn't here to gawk at mysterious girls. He had a job to do.

Hours passed. He stood in the same spot for what felt like forever. Boredom wrapped around him like a fog. He sighed, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble—but it was all champagne, selfies, and smug faces.

He decided to move, finally doing a round through the party, sharp-eyed and alert.

And then—he felt it. A gloved hand on his back. The one thing he hadn't seen coming. He turned, and there she was. Her. That quiet girl from earlier, all sly smiles and silent steps. His eyebrow shot up—just in time to hear her say, cool as ice, "You're hot."

Time stopped.

His brain? Total static. He scratched the back of his neck, face burning like someone had lit a match behind his ears. He looked away, fumbling for words that didn't sound completely dumb.

"Sorry, Miss...? I don't understand. Could you... repeat that?"