It’s now ten PM, and I’m tugging at the micro-sized black dress, hugging my body while staring into the mirror. According to Julian, nothing in my closet was good enough for Casanova, so he insisted I borrow a garment from his sister Sofia for tonight. Except it was a bad idea because I was not built for this bodice.

“Are you done fussing with the dress?” Julian stands in the bedroom doorway, tapping his watch. 

“Maybe,” I huff at his reflection.

“You look hot. Don’t overthink it. We don’t kill ourselves at the gym for you to be picking apart your body.”

“I’m not.” I adjust the strapless neckline.

“I can see the wheels of criticism spinning in your head.” He strides up to me and places his hands on my shoulders.“Stop being self-conscious.” 

“My boobs are too small.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got the ass to make up for it.” He spanks me, and I gasp. “How does a white girl end up with a Latina booty?”

As the words tumble from his lips, my eyes dart to his, and neither of us has to say it because Valentina Moreno is still a hovering murky cloud, waiting to unleash a monsoon of doubt again. 

“That was dumb. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine.” I wave my hand and then tug on a smile.“Besides, there’s plenty of white girls with big booties.”

“Like Jerry’s daughter.”

“Oh, God. Please don’t start with Winnie again.”

Tossing his arm over my shoulder, Julian guides me out of the apartment while torturing me with filthy fantasies about our boss’s daughter. I know he’s only doing it to pull me away from the bottomless pit of Valentina Moreno. 

And it’s working.

When our Uber double parks in front of Casanova, I’m a little buzzed from the to-go booze Julian prepared for us. We slip out of the eco-efficient car, and I nearly stumble over my feet, but my dear friend steadies me.

“You damn lightweight.”

“It’s these heels you forced me to wear!” I scowl. 

“They make your calves look badass. Now stop complaining, and push your tits out because we’re having a good time tonight whether you like it or not, and you will have a shameless make-out with some random guy.” 

“Ugh, why?”

“Why not? Live a little.”

“Fine, but that means you can’t kiss any girls. Tonight you are my wingman, and I can’t have you wandering off with some chick wearing a napkin-sized dress, ok?”

“Deal.” He extends his elbow, so I smooth down my borrowed dress and slip my arm through his.

As my heels click across the pavement, I must admit we make quite the handsome pair. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt to match my dress, and he has the sleeves rolled to his elbows to show off the ink on his forearms. The outfit would look rather simple if it weren’t for the diamond-encrusted watch or the gold chain peak-a-booing from under the shirt. 

Together, we approach the front of the line the way Lisa instructed and let the bouncer know we’re her guests. His fingers move across the tablet in his hand, and then he tells us to hold out our wrists before placing bracelets around them.

“Show this to one of the bouncers, and he’ll take you to your booth.” Then he steps aside and motions to the open door swathed in darkness. “Have fun.”

“Let’s do this!” Julian leads the way.

The short corridor pulses with music where dim wall sconces lure us into the busy, arena-style interior. It has tiered seating overlooking the dance floor, with some sections roped off for VIPs. There’s a gigantic oblong bar running down the middle with about ten bartenders rushing back and forth fixing drinks while patrons wave money at them or bop to the music. Lisa is standing on top of it, half-naked, like some post-apocalyptic character from Mad Max. She brings a torch to her mouth and exhales bright orange flames over the top of the crowd. The glow flickers across their faces, their eyes widening in delight as they beg for more. They hoot and holler while she lights a second torch and begins juggling them with a roll to her hips.

Meanwhile, two trapeze artists swing from opposite sides of the ceiling over the dance floor as strobe lights flicker in tempo with the music, and fog rises from the ground. 

That’s when I see Moses standing across the room with some friends in our VIP section. Lisa did not mention he would be here, nor did she mention he would share our booth. So, this is a surprise. But a welcomed one. He’s in the middle of a conversation, so he doesn’t see me, but then it’s like a movie as the crowd parts just enough for his gaze to land on me. His eyes do a double-take, and the recognition sets in, except he has to stand on tiptoes to see past the sea of heads once the gap closes. 

When our gazes lock, he smiles, and the corners of my mouth spread like peanut butter on toast. 

Julian's fingers squeeze my side as he shouts into my ear. “Well, look who we have here. Your friendly neighbor. We should hurry back so you can suck his face.”

A girl could be so lucky.

Just perhaps with some liquid courage.

“Shall we order shots?”

“Ooo, yes!” He rubs his hands together. “Time to go wild. Let’s get you laid tonight!”

“Wait, what? No, Julian.” I reach for him, but he slips away, grinning, and the eager crowd jiving to the music swallows him. 

With a deep breath, I make my way back to our booth, but there are too many people, and I’m swimming against the current, causing my dress to ride down with all the friction. I try my best to keep the bodice in place before I suffer a nip-slip, but the crowd is so thick I can hardly hold my hands up.

That’s when Moses saves me.

With one hand reaching through sweaty bodies, he latches on and plucks me from the depths of misery. My chest collides with his stomach, and his arms weave around my waist, steadying me.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says, so I tilt my head back to look at him. He grins.

“Hi.” 

"It looked like you were drowning, so I had to come get you," he shouts over the music.

"Ah, a local hero. You'll have to bat the fangirls away."

"No. There's only one girl whose attention I want." He smiles, and my stomach rolls with a tickle.

"Oh, yeah? And who would that be?"

“Depends. I think she might be here with her boyfriend.”

"Sounds messy," I say.

"Well, she could always ditch him and be with me instead."

"You're trouble." I grin.

"So, is that guy your boyfriend?"

“Julian?” I snort. “Oh, heck no. He’s like my brother.”

“I see.” Moses nods, and his grey eyes study me as they shift down to my mouth. “Glad to hear it.” 

His tongue does a quick swipe of his lips, and it’s so brief, yet I’m imagining what else it can do. And it’s thoughts like these that compel me to do stupid things like stand around half-naked for my neighbor to see. Except this isn’t my balcony, and there isn’t an entire courtyard separating us. 

So, I make the boldest move I’ve ever made before and stand on tiptoes, my fingers wrapping behind his neck as I crash my mouth to his. The music pulses around us like a chant to deepen the kiss, let our hands wander, and explore the need brewing between us. Moses holds me closer, and we begin swaying to the beat, our lips locked, our tongues swirling in gentle strokes. I've had makeout sessions countless times, but this one is different. It's as if my energy is syncing with his, causing our hearts to vibrate as one. I can no longer feel where his limbs end or where mine begins, and when he pulls away, my body sways forward, wanting more.

"I've been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you," he breathes, his hand cupping my cheek. "I had a feeling you'd taste like a dream, and I was right."

"What?" I duck my gaze.

"You're beautiful, Valerie, and I don't think you realize how much."

"I'm smart too." I glance back up.

"I know. Beauty and brains." He squeezes my hip, then plants another kiss on me, and we begin swaying again.

For the rest of the night, we share the VIP section with his friends and take turns buying rounds of booze. While Julian flirts with girls on the dance floor, Moses and I retreat into a little bubble, where only he and I exist. Through kisses and drunk chatter, my heart grows warmer. It might be the alcohol, but something about Moses is different. I get the feeling he's not the kind of guy to walk out after having sex.

"Want to come over to my place?" I ask.

"Ok." He kisses me.

"Promise not to slip away in the middle of the night?"

"I'd never. Besides, you know where I live," he chuckles, and I smack his chest.

"I'm serious." I drop my gaze while sitting on his lap and toy with the buttons on his shirt. "Guys can be jerks. They always leave and never call."

"I wouldn't do that to you." He takes my chin between his fingers, then kisses my nose. "And I'm not saying that because of alcohol or to get in your pants. I treat women like I'd want men to treat my sister Ruth—with respect and decency. It's what you deserve, Val."

I don't know why, but his words sting my eyes, causing them to water, and through sniffles, I say, "Thank you."

But our sweet moment is bombarded as his friends shove tequila shots in our hands, and we're forced to suck them back with the rest of the group.

From there, the night becomes a blur.