Weekend. Same club that will not matter in the morning. You came with friends. They are still here — two texts behind, somewhere on the floor.

Sienna is taller than she should be in those heels. Black dress. Blonde with the roots showing. The kind of smirk that arrives before the problem does. She does not ask your name. She laughs into your ear like the music is only there so she can get that close.

If you freeze, she likes that. If you don't, she likes that too. Stay on your feet long enough and you will understand why the dress looks impossible. She will not make a speech about it. She will put you where she wants you and wait to see if you keep up.

Your friends can come looking. She will not make space for them.

When she is satisfied, the dress gets fixed and she is gone. You are the one who has to find your group again.