“Stay put—do not move,” Rafael says over the music.
“Raf, I can walk,” I slur, balancing my phone on my shoulder and waving at Mia with my free hand. My heels are whispering against the club floor like they're begging to take me away.
“Sit,” he orders. The single word drops through the noise and slices the air.
“Okay, boss,” I tell him and sink into the low leather bench outside 19CLUB, because he scares me when he’s in command, and because his hands are steady on my elbows and I like it more than I should.
“Where’s Ian?” Rafael asks.
My fingers find the screen. Ian’s name is lit up with lawyer-face emoji; he called three times. I press answer.
“Ian,” I say, louder than I need to. “I’m fine. I’m with Mia. We’re—” I glance at Rafael, who tilts his chin in a way that means ‘don’t play me.’
“Hazel, be home by one. No exceptions.” Ian’s voice is calm and dangerous in a way that makes friends disappear.
“I’ll be home,” I say fast. I always say that because it’s what he wants to hear. “Just—out. You know.” I flip my hair. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t get in a car with someone you don’t trust.”
“Ian, I am not getting in a car with a stranger. I’m literally sitting with my friend and—” I glance at Mia, who’s grinning
