Liam picked up the half-finished drink in his hand and took a slow sip as he stood, his eyes still calm but locked in with purpose. The liquid burned slightly down his throat but he barely felt it, his attention already shifting ahead of him as he moved through the crowd. The music pulsed around him, bodies brushing past, lights flickering across faces, but none of it distracted him now.
He had already chosen his next move.
As he got closer to the bar, his pace slowed just enough to blend in, natural, unhurried, like he had nowhere important to be. From behind, he could already see her clearly. Even before her face came into view, her figure alone was enough to draw attention without trying. Her body curved in all the right places, a smooth, effortless shape that carried both softness and strength. Her waist dipped in just enough to lead into full, rounded hips that sat perfectly against the stool, and the subtle shift of her posture made it impossible not to notice the way everything flowed together. Her back was straight but relaxed, her shoulders slightly bare, her skin catching the light in a way that made it look almost too smooth, too perfect for a place like this.
Her dress clung just enough to outline her form without revealing too much, the fabric tracing along her sides, hugging her curves in a way that didnât scream for attention but commanded it anyway. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing added a quiet rhythm to her presence, and the way her fingers held the glass in front of her told a different story entirely. Controlled. Tense. Like she was holding herself together more than just holding a drink.
Liam stepped in beside her and took the empty stool without asking, placing his glass on the counter with a soft tap. The movement was smooth, deliberate, nothing rushed.
She turned her head instinctively at the sound.
And paused.
For a brief second, the tension in her expression shifted into something else. Surprise. Not the loud kind, not exaggerated, just a quiet flicker in her eyes as she took in the sight of him. Liam didnât look at her immediately, instead adjusting the stool slightly under him, his movements casual, controlled. It gave her just enough time to look without feeling like she had been caught.
Then he turned.
Their eyes met.
He raised his brows slightly in a simple greeting, nothing more, nothing less.
She looked at him for a moment longer than she intended, then quickly turned her gaze away, back to her drink like it suddenly became the most important thing in the room.
Liam noticed everything.
The pause. The reaction. The withdrawal.
He leaned his elbow lightly against the counter, picking up his glass again and rolling it between his fingers before speaking.
"You look like you donât wanna be here," he said softly.
His voice wasnât loud, wasnât intrusive. It was calm, warm, the kind that didnât force its way into your space but still made itself heard.
She didnât respond.
Instead, her fingers tightened slightly around the glass, her thumb tracing the rim slowly, repeatedly, like she was trying to keep her mind occupied. The small movement gave her away more than any words could have. Liamâs eyes dropped briefly to her hand, then back to her face.
Yeah. Something was off.
He let out a quiet breath through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if thinking, then spoke again, his tone lighter this time.
"If it helps," he said, taking a small sip from his drink, "half the people here look like theyâre enjoying themselves, but theyâre just pretending better than you."
A faint pause.
He added, almost as an afterthought, "Youâre just honest about it."
That got a reaction.
Not a soft one.
She turned her head toward him again, slower this time, her brows pulling together slightly. There was irritation there now, clear and unfiltered. Whatever small window his appearance had opened earlier had already closed.
Fast.
She looked at him like she had already figured him out.
And didnât like the answer.
"Let me guess," she said coldly, her voice carrying a sharp edge that cut straight through his attempt at easing the mood. "After cracking your nonsense joke, youâll go ahead and ask for my number."
She didnât stop there.
"Then youâll want to have sex with me. Isnât that how it always is with your gender?"
Her grip on the glass tightened slightly as she spoke, her eyes fixed on him now, not with curiosity but with clear annoyance. There was more behind her words than just irritation. There was exhaustion. Frustration. The kind that didnât come from one bad encounter but from too many.
Liamâs jaw shifted slightly.
The corner of his mouth twitched, not in amusement but restraint.
If this had been any other time, he would have laughed it off, maybe even walked away. But right now, he didnât have that luxury. Not after everything. Not with the clock ticking in his head.
He rolled his neck slightly, then took another slow sip of his drink before setting it back down on the counter.
When he spoke again, his tone had changed.
Cooler. Sharper.
"I have no interest in your number," he said calmly.
A small pause.
"And I have no interest in having sex with you either."
That landed.
Her expression didnât soften, but it shifted. Just a little. Enough to show that wasnât the response she expected.
She looked at him again, this time more directly, her eyes scanning his face like she was trying to find something she missed the first time.
Then she spoke again, her voice flat now, almost dismissive.
"Then what do you want?"
Liam didnât answer immediately.
He picked up his glass again, swirling what little was left inside, his eyes drifting past her for just a second, back toward the direction of Dracoâs table.
Then he looked at her again.
And this time, there was no softness in his gaze.
Only intent.