You're Playing With Fire
There’s a moment, just before you break, when you stop pretending you won’t.
The heat in the club was heavy, clinging to me—thick, but inviting, laced with sweat, alcohol, and too much perfume. The bass pounded deep in my core, the dancefloor packed with strangers bouncing and grinding to a beat no-one recognised—it was intoxicating. I let it swallow me—let it drown me. My hips swayed to the music, unfamiliar hands at my waist guiding me, pulling me close. It was a distraction, but exactly what I...