It wasn't that he wasn't listening—he was. Julie's voice was one of his favorite sounds. But his brain seemed to have split in two, one part engaged in conversation while the other fixated entirely on the fact that Julie—sweet, perfect Julie—was wearing stockings that matched her dress exactly. She had coordinated them. Purposefully. For him. The realization hit him with surprising force. She'd done this for him. She'd re...

The club pulsed with that familiar weekend energy - strobe lights slicing through artificial fog, bass vibrating through the floor, bodies moving in that alcohol-fueled rhythm that never quite matched the beat. Julie stood at the edge of the dance floor, one hand clutching a lukewarm vodka cranberry, the other nervously adjusting the neckline of her black tank top. She'd chosen the outfit carefully - dark denim skirt that...