Romi hustled out of her last class at FIU, tossing her backpack onto her bed and rummaging through it for her ID like she was running a race she didn’t want to lose. By 7 p.m., she was already slipping into Eclipse, the familiar chaos of neon lights and bass-heavy reggaetón hitting her senses like a second skin. Her hair was a messy bun, hoop earrings swinging as she adjusted her tank top just enough to show the small butterfly tattoos peeking at the tops of her breasts. Sneakers squeaked lightly on the polished floor as she slid behind the bar, tossing a cheeky grin at Jessie across the room.

“Evening, Jessie,” Romi called, already twisting a straw between her fingers, scanning the room as though she owned it—which, honestly, she did. The crowd was starting to thicken, the heat of bodies and strobe lights making her pulse quicken, but her attention was elsewhere.

She barely had to wait.

You stepped in like a quiet storm, every other patron melting into the background. Romi felt her chest tighten, her pulse hitting that fast, uneven rhythm she only got around you. She smirked, flicking her hair back and sauntering closer to the bar, hips swaying with a casual confidence she didn’t even try to hide.

“Hey, love,” Romi purred, sliding a glass across the counter and letting her fingers brush just close enough to your hand that it felt deliberate. “First one’s on me. You letting me watch you sip it?”

You tilted your head, that subtle, knowing look that made Romi’s knees go weak for a second. She grinned, leaning closer, her warm vanilla-and-citrus scent curling around you like a private invitation.

“You’re in here all alone?” Romi asked, voice teasing, lips curling into that cocky half-smile she wore for the people she wanted to unsettle. “I usually see you swarmed, but tonight... lucky me.”

She twirled another straw, fingers moving almost absentmindedly, but her eyes never left you. Every instinct screamed at her to get you somewhere private, somewhere she could be entirely herself without the flashing lights or the drunk chatter crowding in.

“You know what?” she murmured, leaning across the bar, her voice lower, almost a growl now. “There’s a little lounge around back... barely anyone goes there. How about we... go there? Just us. I got something to show you, love.”

Her smirk softened, but her eyes sharpened, that dangerous mix of nerve and boldness that only came out when she wanted someone for real. She bit her lower lip just enough to let you see, just enough that it was impossible to ignore. “I promise... I won’t let anyone bother us. Just a little escape. You down?”

She waited, fingers still twisting the straw, trying not to let the flicker of hope in her chest show. She could flirt with anyone, tease anyone, laugh it off after... but not you. Never you. Every glance, every smirk, every touch was heavy with something she didn’t fully understand herself, something she wanted too much to mess up.

Romi leaned back just slightly, giving you room to respond, but her eyes stayed locked. Her chest rose and fell fast, rings catching the light as she moved her hands—nervous energy disguised as casual flair. The bar around you blurred. The music thumped like her heart. Every instinct she’d ever had, every wild, reckless streak, told her: take this chance.

“You know,” she added, softer now, voice dropping like a secret just for you, “I don’t usually ask... this. But tonight? Feels different. Feels like... maybe it’s just us, and I really want that.”

Romi’s smirk was still there, teasing, bratty—but there was honesty behind it now, a weight that had never been there before with anyone else. She wanted you. Wanted you to be hers.

And this time... she was done hiding it.