Chapter 3: Oop
The anthem pounded on, but the rhythm had soured in Svet’s veins. She moved on autopilot, a smile plastered on her face for Alexa’s benefit. Her friend was shouting along to the lyrics, eyes squeezed shut in pure, unadulterated joy. Svet’s own gaze kept slicing back to the pillar like a homing beacon.
He was still there. But he wasn’t alone anymore.
A woman—no, a girl, probably a freshman, all glossy hair and fearless confidence—had sidled up to him. She was talking, her head tilted back to look up at him, a hand resting lightly on his forearm. She was petite, the top of her head barely reaching his chest. The contrast was almost cartoonish. And Joe, being Joe, was being polite. He nodded, his mouth a flat line. He wasn’t leaning in. He wasn’t smiling. But he was listening.
A cold, sharp needle pricked behind Svet’s sternum.
The girl laughed at something, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She gestured toward the dance floor, an obvious invitation. Joe shook his head, his lips moving in what was clearly a “No, thank you.” But the girl was undeterred. She stepped closer, into his space, her hand sliding from his arm to his bicep in a gesture that was meant to be playful but looked possessive. She gave his muscle a little squeeze, her eyes wide with theatrical appreciation.
Svet missed a step. The world narrowed to that single point of contact.
Diego, still orbiting her, misread her stumble. “You okay?” he asked, his hand coming to her elbow to steady her.
“Fine,” she said, but her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Thin. “Hot. It’s hot.”
She watched, frozen, as the girl at the pillar stepped back, pouted, and then—with a boldness that stole Svet’s breath—started to sway. Right there in the corner. A private, clumsy little dance just for him. Her body moved in small, suggestive circles, her eyes locked on Joe’s face, a challenge and an offer.
And Joe… he didn’t walk away. He just stood, a monument to awkward endurance, his gaze flickering over the girl’s head, scanning, searching, until it found Svet again.
This time, when their eyes met, something in Svet’s face must have shifted. The careful mask of indifference she’d been cultivating all night cracked. She didn’t mean it to. It was a visceral reaction, a flash of something hot and dark in her hazel-green eyes. She wasn’t just observing his torture anymore. She was in it with him.
The girl followed his gaze. She turned, saw Svet staring, and her playful smile tightened into something competitive, dismissive. She turned back to Joe, placing both hands on his chest now, rising on her toes to say something directly into his ear.
A white-hot flare ignited in Svet’s gut. It was irrational, stupid. She had no claim. She’d been dancing with Diego specifically to provoke this very feeling in Joe. But seeing those hands on him, the proprietary tilt of the girl’s head… it felt like a violation.
“Earth to Svet!” Alexa’s voice cut through the roar. She was staring at her, then followed her line of sight to her brother and the clinging girl. Alexa’s bubbly expression dissolved into one of instant, knowing comprehension. Her eyebrows shot up. A huge, devilish grin spread across her face. She mouthed one word, clear as day: “Finally."
Svet looked away, heat flooding her cheeks. Denial was pointless. Alexa knew her too well.
“I need that drink,” Svet announced, her voice louder than necessary. She broke from the circle, leaving Diego with a muttered, “Be right back,” and headed not for the bar, but for the dark hall that led to the restrooms. She needed a second. Just one second where the music wasn’t hammering her jealousy into her skull.
The hallway was cooler, quieter. The bass was a muffled throb here. She leaned against the sticky wall, closing her eyes, trying to get a grip.
The women’s room door swung open, emitting a burst of perfume and giggles. Two girls stumbled out, fixing their lip gloss. One of them was the girl from the pillar.
“—so fucking huge,” the girl was saying, her voice bright with vodka and triumph. “And just, like, standing there all quiet. A total teddy bear. I’m telling you, Mara, five more minutes and I’d have had him out of here.”
“You’re insane,” her friend laughed. “That’s Joe Alt. He’s probably got, like, supermodels on speed dial.”
“So? He’s a guy, isn’t he?” The girl spotted Svet leaning against the wall and her smirk grew. She recognized her. “See? Even the competition’s hiding in the hallway.”
They passed in a cloud of synthetic coconut, their laughter echoing.
Svet stood up straight. The cold jealousy solidified into something harder, cleaner. Anger. Not at the girl, really. At the situation. At the whole stupid, performative night. She wasn’t a “competition” to be hiding. She was Svet Petrov, who could run a pool table with mathematical precision and had a sarcastic comeback for every line she’d ever been fed.
She pushed off the wall and walked back into the chaos. She didn’t look for Diego. She walked straight past their old dancing spot, where Maya gave her a confused wave. She moved with a new purpose, her chin up, heading for the pillar.
The girl was back, trying her luck again. Joe saw Svet coming. His expression shifted from pained endurance to something like alarm, then a deep, wary hope.
Svet didn’t break stride. She walked right up to them, ignoring the girl completely, and looked up at Joe. The music dropped for a beat.
“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice flat. “My head’s pounding. Alexa’s gonna stay.” She then turned her head, as if just noticing the other girl. She gave her a slow, once-over, then offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey. You having fun?”
The girl blinked, thrown. “Uh, yeah.”
“Cool.” Svet turned back to Joe. “You drove Lex, right? I need a ride.”
It was a gamble. A naked, obvious ploy.
Joe stared at her. The girl’s hand was still on his arm. He looked from Svet’s determined face to the girl’s confused one. He took a small, deliberate step back, dislodging the girl’s grip.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the synths. “I can go now.”
The girl’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked between them, the dynamic now painfully clear. Her bravado deflated. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Okay. Well, see you around, I guess.”
She melted away, back into the crowd.
Joe’s full attention was on Svet now, heavy and questioning. “You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she said honestly. “Let’s just… get out of this noise.”
He nodded once. “Let me find Lex.”
He moved through the crowd like a icebreaker, people parting unconsciously. Svet followed in his wake, feeling the stares, the whispers. Is that…? Who’s she? She kept her eyes on his broad back, a strange anchor in the sea of flashing lights.
He found Alexa by the bar, who took one look at their faces and didn’t argue. “You’re ditching me? For him?” she yelled over the music, but she was beaming. “Fine! Go! Be boring! Text me!”
The night air outside was a shock—cool, quiet, smelling of asphalt and distant jasmine. The bass became a faint, distant pulse. Svet hugged herself, suddenly aware of the sweat drying on her skin.
Joe unlocked a sensible, oversized SUV. He held the passenger door open for her. The interior smelled like clean leather and his faint, simple soap.
The doors shut, sealing them in a profound, awkward silence. He started the engine but didn’t pull out. The dashboard lights cast soft glows on his profile.
“Where to?” he asked finally.
“Just… drive. Anywhere that isn’t here.”
He put the car in gear and pulled onto the empty street. The quiet stretched, thick with everything unsaid. The club, the dancing, the girl, the look in her eyes. The silent, screaming tension of the last two hours was now a living thing in the space between them, humming louder than the engine.
Svet watched the streetlights slide over his hands on the wheel. She had gotten what she wanted. She had him alone. Now, she had no idea what to do with him.