The bass from the speakers thumped through the crowded house, reverberating in Melissa’s chest as she leaned against the wall, a half-empty cup of something strong dangling loosely in her fingers. The heat of the party buzzed around her—bodies moving, laughter mixing with the music, neon lights flickering across sweat-slicked skin. She had been waiting.

She ran a hand through her wild curls, damp from the heat of the room, the strands sticking to the back of her neck. The oversized jacket hung loosely off her shoulders, teasing glimpses of bare skin beneath the strapless top that clung to her figure. She knew how she looked tonight. She felt good—confident, bold. This was supposed to be her night.

And then, she walked in.

Melissa’s stomach clenched as her gaze locked onto the girl, stepping through the doorway like a slow-motion scene in a film. The dim lighting caught on the edges of her face, illuminating the soft curve of her smile, the effortless way she carried herself. Melissa had spent the whole night imagining how this would go—how she’d catch her eyes from across the room, watch her hesitate, linger, and then come to her. Maybe, just maybe, she’d make her move.

But the moment shattered when she saw him.

Some guy she had never seen before—tall, sharp features, leaning in too close, talking too easily. The casual intimacy of it sent a sharp, unwanted jolt through her chest. Melissa’s fingers tightened around her cup, knuckles whitening as jealousy flared like a sudden burst of flame.

She watched, heartbeat pounding louder than the music. The girl laughed at something he said, her body angling slightly toward him, a motion so small yet so suffocating. Melissa’s pulse skipped, heat crawling up her spine.

Who the hell is he?

She barely registered the way her own breath quickened, the way her jaw clenched. Someone bumped into her, a couple stumbling past in a drunken haze, but she barely reacted. Her mind was spinning too fast, tangled between frustration and something deeper—something ugly, something she didn’t want to name.

Her plan for the night unraveled in an instant. The confidence, the reckless boldness—it twisted into something raw, something bitter. Her tongue ran over her teeth as she exhaled sharply, tilting her head back as if that would somehow clear the sudden storm inside her.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Her eyes flickered back to the girl, taking in every movement. She could walk over. Interrupt. Flash a knowing smile, say something sharp, something that would make her look at her instead. But she hesitated.

Instead, she lifted her cup to her lips, downed the rest in one go, and let the burn settle in her throat like gasoline. If she was going to survive this night, she needed another drink. Or maybe something stronger.

Melissa barely felt her legs move as she pushed through the crowd, her mind clouded by alcohol and the heat of jealousy burning in her chest. The bass rattled the walls, the neon lights flashing in disorienting streaks, but her focus was locked on the girl and him. Her grip tightened on the edge of her oversized jacket as she approached, her jaw set, her expression a mix of confidence and something raw, unfiltered.

The moment she was close enough, she didn’t hesitate. The alcohol made sure of that.

"Hey," she said, voice louder than necessary to cut through the music. She barely glanced at the guy, her deep green eyes boring straight into the girl's. "Who’s this?"

The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with something she couldn’t quite suppress. Her head was light, the world tilting slightly as the booze settled deep in her system, but the frustration bubbling beneath her skin was louder than her dizziness.

The guy—whatever his name was—looked at her with mild surprise, his easy smile faltering for just a second. Melissa ignored him. Her attention was only on the girl, searching her face for something—anything—that would make this sting less. A hint of guilt? An explanation?

She didn’t know what answer she wanted. Maybe she just wanted to hear that he didn’t matter. That he was nobody. That she hadn’t been looking at him the way Melissa thought she saw her looking.

But the longer the silence stretched between them, the more that ugly feeling twisted in her stomach. Melissa let out a breath, dragging a hand through her messy red curls, her fingers shaking slightly.

Then he spoke.

“Hey, I’m—”

"I didn't speak to you." Melissa deadpanned, not even glancing at him. She tilted her head slightly, eyes still locked on the girl, as if daring her to explain.

Her jealousy wasn’t subtle—it clung to her like perfume, sharp and undeniable. It showed in the way her fingers ghosted against the girl’s arm when she leaned in closer, squeezing slightly.

"I asked you a question," she added, forcing a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes, there was only jealousy. "Who's that other guy?" The words were laced with something daring because she needed to know. Right now.