Chapter 3: Blue Light, Loud Nights
Ladies’ night wasn’t even my idea.
It was Amanda’s. Of course it was Amanda’s.
She texted:
“Zouk. Wednesday. Wear something tight. And don’t even think of showing up in Converse.”
I could’ve said no.
I should’ve, maybe.
But by then, I was already too used to waiting on silence.
The kind that comes after 11PM, when the bunk phones are locked away and all I’ve got is the soft glow of unread messages.
I needed noise.
Bass.
Lights.
Something that reminded me I still had a body.
We got there just before 11.
Amanda wore black—short, sleeveless, and bold like always. I dug out a wine-red dress I hadn’t touched since my cousin’s 21st. It didn’t scream I’m available, but it didn’t exactly whisper taken, either.
The club was already packed.
Sticky floors. Icy vodka cranberries. Boys pretending not to look.
The bass pulsed through my chest like a second heartbeat.
I checked my phone once.
No messages.
Amanda noticed.
“Oi,” she shouted over the music, pulling me into the crowd. “No overthinking tonight. We’re not thinking about anyone in green.”
I laughed.
But I still kept my phone close.
Three drinks in, I loosened.
My hips started moving easier. My smile came out without trying.
Amanda was already wrapped around some guy, dancing like nothing existed outside the smoke machine haze.
I moved off a little. Danced on my own. Just feeling the beat, letting go for once.
That’s when I noticed him.
Tall—not awkwardly tall, just sharp. Neat stubble. Button-down sleeves rolled up. Looked older, maybe early twenties. Clean-cut, but with that quiet confidence—the kind that didn’t chase attention because it never had to.
He was standing near the bar, drink in hand, eyes on me.
And unlike every other guy who stared too long, he didn’t immediately move in.
He waited. Just a small nod, like an invitation.
So I took it.
“Hey,” he said when I stepped close enough to hear him. His voice was smooth. Not deep, but calm. Confident. “Didn’t mean to stare. You just looked... different.”
“Different how?”
“Not trying too hard. That’s rare in here.”
I smiled. “That your line for the night?”
He laughed. “Only if it works.”
His name was Isaac.
NUS business. Interning at some media agency I’d vaguely heard of.
He spoke like someone used to being listened to—but not in a show-off way. He asked about my course, what poly I was from, what I was drinking.
We stood close. The kind of close where your arms almost touch when you lean in.
He didn’t try anything. Just let the tension hang.
Then the song changed—low, heavy beat. I glanced toward the dancefloor.
He raised an eyebrow. “You dance, or just drink?”
I didn’t answer. I just walked back toward the crowd.
He followed.
We danced.
Not grinding.
But close. Closer than I’d let most strangers.
His hand brushed my hip once. I let it stay.
My fingers grazed his chest as I turned.
I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t fully me either.
It was like watching myself from a step outside—laughing a little louder, letting my dress ride up a little higher, not caring if my lip gloss was gone.
Nothing happened.
Not technically.
But I didn’t think about my boyfriend once while I was out there.
Not until the lights went low and Amanda finally appeared out of the crowd, holding her shoes in one hand and slurring something about supper.
I told her I was heading home. She waved me off.
I booked a Grab alone.
Didn’t even feel weird about it.
The ride was quiet. I kept the window half-down, letting the city rush past in yellow lights and damp air. My dress clung to my back. My thighs stuck to the seat.
The cab meter ticked slowly, like it was counting down a decision I hadn’t made yet.
When I got home, it was just past 2AM.
I didn’t text Amanda.
Didn’t check if she got home.
Didn’t feel the need to.
I kicked off my heels in the lift, keys already out.
Home smelled the same. Fabric softener. Dust. Quiet.
I showered. Peeled off the dress.
Brushed my teeth.
Stared at myself in the mirror a second longer than usual.
Then I crawled into bed in a tank top and shorts, phone in hand.
Nothing.
Until it buzzed.
Him:
“Sorry I KO’ed just now. Book out this Friday. Can’t wait to see you :)”
I stared at the message.
Then typed back:
Me:
“It’s okay. I understand. Rest more.”
I didn’t mention where I’d been.
He didn’t ask.
And that silence?
It filled the whole room like smoke that never left.
To be continued.