Page 1 of Ava After Midnight (Chaos and Chemistry #2)

Chapter One

AVA

T he diamond on my finger is a noose. Three carats of pure obligation, wrapped in platinum and promises I’m not sure I want to keep. The ring feels too tight tonight, pressing into my skin like a brand. Sharp reflections scatter across the wall, like jagged pieces of a choice I don’t want to make.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Matthew. A voice memo this time.

I don’t play it. I don’t need to. I already know what it will say—soft but firm reminders to be “reasonable” tonight.

To be careful. To be good.

“You look like you’re planning a prison break, not your bachelorette party.” Zoe bursts into my hotel room with her signature lack of subtlety, already wrapped in a barely-there black dress that would make a stripper blush. “Tell me you’re not wearing that.”

I glance down at my conservative cocktail dress—Matthew’s favorite. The fabric is stiff against my skin, tailored to perfection but lifeless. I tug at the neckline, suddenly aware of how constricting it feels, like it’s holding me in place.

My fiancé’s taste runs about as exciting as vanilla pudding. “What’s wrong with this? It’s classic,” I lie, but the words taste as bland as the dress itself.

“It’s tragic,” Zoe corrects.

Jade slinks in behind her, the ink of her divorce papers barely dry, cold vengeance gleaming in her eyes. She tosses a scrap of red fabric at me. “Put this on. Tonight we’re going to remind you what freedom tastes like.”

Freedom . The word tastes foreign, like something I once craved but forced myself to forget.

“Ladies, let’s remember we’re celebrating Ava’s last night to make her own choices, not trying to sabotage her wedding.” Mia—ever the voice of reason, or at least the voice of carefully veiled resentment. She eyes my ring like it’s a prize she lost out on… one she thinks I don’t deserve.

I step into the bathroom to change, my hands shaking as I peel off Matthew’s approved dress. For a second, I pause. This is stupid. Pointless. I should put the dress back on. I take in my reflection—the carefully curated, polished version of myself Matthew prefers. And I shove the dress aside.

The red fabric Jade brought hugs every curve like a second skin, dipping low enough to guarantee Matthew’s disapproving lecture. I can already hear it in my head—his measured sigh, the way he’d glance over me like I was a contract he needed to renegotiate.

“Ava, you know how you come across when you wear things like that. You want people to take you seriously, don’t you?”

I roll my eyes at my own reflection, muttering his words under my breath.

“God forbid I embarrass the future Mrs. Weston,” I say dryly.

Zoe, sipping her drink by the sink, snorts. “Jesus, does he actually say shit like that?”

Jade hums, applying another coat of lipstick. “Yeah, babe. That’s not love. That’s a PR strategy, and heaven knows I’ve had my fair share being married to a congressman.”

For the first time in forever, the thought of pissing Matthew off makes me smile instead of worry.

The tequila Zoe smuggled in sits on the counter, catching the light. I hesitate. I can already hear Matthew’s voice in my head, smooth and certain.

Be good, Ava.

I grab the bottle and pour. The first shot burns, but the second goes down easier. By the third, I’m starting to forget why I said yes to any of this.

“To Ava’s last night of freedom!” Zoe raises her glass, something knowing in her eyes. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten—she sees right through me.

“To making choices we can’t take back,” Jade adds darkly, and I wonder if she’s talking about her ex-husband or me.

Mia arranges us for selfies. I catch her tilting her phone just right, making sure my ring is in the shot. “Smile, bride-to-be! Let’s show Matthew what he’s missing.”

My fiancé won’t see these photos. He’s too busy with work—like always. Three years spent molding myself into his ideal and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s chosen me over his law firm.

Sometimes I wonder how much of our relationship is just for his personal brand. It’s more difficult to tear down a lawyer who’s a family man with a beautiful wife and the possibility of a kid on the way. Not that I’m pregnant, but he’s talked about it a lot and it feels like part of the contract I verbally signed with his proposal. ’Terms and Conditions’ and all that.

The thought makes me pour another drink, tipping the bottle just a little longer than necessary.

“Ava, this isn’t how we do things.”

I whisper the words aloud, mimicking Matthew’s tone, that careful mix of patience and condescension. “You know better. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”

Zoe raises an eyebrow from across the room. “Wow. That’s eerie…”

Jade scoffs. “Of course he says stupid shit. That’s the voice of a man who thinks he’s doing you a favor by letting you marry him.”

I take another shot. Let the warmth settle in. Let it quiet the voice. Somehow it feels louder… suffocating, even.

“Earth to Ava!” Zoe waves a hand in front of my face. “Stop overthinking and keep drinking. Tonight isn’t about him, and this liquor was expensive , so enjoy it while it lasts.”

She’s right. Tonight isn’t about Matthew, or the wedding, or the perfectly planned future waiting to suffocate me. It’s about the part of me that still knows how to want .

“What Matthew doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Jade purrs, applying yet another coat of blood-red lipstick.

The words knock something loose inside me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. I grab the tequila, letting liquid courage drown out any voice of reason. I don’t bother with a shot glass.

“Slow down,” Mia cautions, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she’s hoping I won’t.

A vibration rattles from inside my purse. Matthew. Again—right on schedule. Probably calling to remind me about his rules for tonight:

1 No male strippers.

2 No excessive drinking.

3 No embarrassing photos.

Most important of all: 4. Basically no fun.

Mia moves before I can, reaching for it. I snatch my purse away, pulse hammering.

Silence stretches between us for a beat too long.

Slowly, deliberately, I press Ignore.

Zoe whoops, clinking her shot glass against mine. The thrill of victory sizzles beneath my skin.

“That’s my girl,” Zoe grins, wicked and encouraging. “Now let’s go find you some trouble .”

Mia exhales sharply, setting down her empty glass with a little too much force. “Right. Because ignoring your fiancé is a smart idea.”

Zoe throws her an exasperated look. “God, Mia. Just admit you’re mad he picked Ava and not you.”

“I just think Ava should be more careful, that’s all.” Mia’s smile is tight, practiced. “Not everyone gets handed something good and acts like it’s disposable. Must be nice to have a night off from being perfect.”

Jade hums, swirling the last sip of her drink in her glass. “Right. Some of us just pretend to be happy for our friends while secretly thinking they deserve less.”

Mia’s eyes flick to her, sharp, but she recovers fast. “Whatever. The Uber’s here,” she announces, standing up like the conversation never happened. “Let’s go.”

The Uber is waiting downstairs, ready to whisk us into a night of possibility. City lights blur past the window and my ring sits heavy in my lap, colder than the air outside, like a warning I don’t want to heed.

I could take it off. Would that be a betrayal, or the first honest thing I’ve done in years?

Instead I settle for running my thumb over the band, pressing it into my skin like an anchor. I love Matthew. Right? I’m getting married tomorrow. This is just fun. Just one last night to let loose with my girls, where I can pretend this ring doesn’t weigh me down.

“Ready?” Jade asks as we pull up to the first club, the bass thrumming through the sidewalk.

Before we step out, Mia reaches into a shopping bag and pulls out a set of white satin sashes. "Almost forgot," she says, her voice light, but there’s something pointed in the way she hands them out.

“Bride Tribe for us, and of course—” she drapes the final one over my shoulder, smoothing it down like a finishing touch—”Bride-to-Be for Ava.”

The words glitter in gold script across my chest. A reminder. A claim.

Zoe groans dramatically. “Mia, come on. You know she’s going to rip that off the second we get inside.”

“She should keep it on,” Mia counters smoothly. “Wouldn’t want anyone to forget what kind of night this is.”

The weight of it is nothing, but it feels heavier than my ring. I force a smile, adjust the sash like it’s not suffocating me, and push open the door.

I step out of the car and into the night.

The club buzzes with dark promises. Bodies press against us as we weave through the crowd, Zoe leading our charge to the bar like she was born for this chaos. The bass matches my pulse—too fast, too hard, and deliciously reckless.

“First round’s on me!” Mia shouts over the music, perfectly manicured nails tapping her black Amex against the bar. “What’s your poison?”

“Everything,” I breathe.

Shots materialize like liquid courage, each one stripping away another layer of Matthew’s perfect bride. The first sip is hesitation, the second is rebellion, and by the third, I’m someone else entirely—someone reckless, just a girl without a care in the world.

My body doesn’t just remember how to move; it demands it. The bass thrums through my bones, syncing with a part of me I’ve ignored for too long.

I roll my hips, let my hands skim down my sides, feeling the fabric of my dress ride up, unapologetic. The heat of bodies pressing in around me, the glint of hungry eyes catching the flashing lights—none of it feels wrong.

It feels like waking up.

“You’re being watched,” Jade calls in my ear, breath hot and tinged with vodka. “That group of guys by the DJ booth hasn’t taken their eyes off you since we walked in.”

I should feel guilty about the rush it causes, like a jolt of electric current.

I don’t.

“Let them look,” I murmur, the words sliding off my tongue smoother than the tequila burning in my veins. “At least someone is.”

Zoe grabs my hand, pulling me further onto the dance floor. The scarlet fabric of my dress slides up my dimpled thighs as we move, and I don’t bother pulling it down. Matthew’s Ava would have.

But she’s not here tonight.

“Speaking of Matthew,” Mia appears at my side, sweat making her perfect makeup run, “he’s called three times in the last hour.”

“And?” I laugh, and it sounds wild even to my own ears. “I can’t say I care at the moment.”

My phone buzzes in my clutch. I know it’s him. Probably pacing his pristine apartment, jaw clenched in disapproval.

The image makes me order another shot. I hope he wears a track in the carpet.

“You know what?” I announce to my bridesmaids, the 90-proof alcohol turning my blood to fire. “Fuck his rules. Fuck his schedule. Fuck his?—”

“That’s the spirit!” Jade cuts me off, her eyes sharp despite the alcohol. She knows what I’m not saying—what I’ve been afraid to admit.

The night spirals in a blur of shots and songs, each moment feeling more real than the last three years of my life. Men approach, testing their luck. For the first time, I don’t immediately shut them down with a flash of my ring.

“Dance with me,” one particularly bold one asks.

I almost say yes. Almost let myself be pulled into strong arms that aren’t bound by law firm partnerships and country club expectations.

But Zoe sees it in my eyes and pulls me back. “No, honey. You’re not the kind of girl who makes those kinds of mistakes.”

She’s right! Of course she is, and it’s because I’m not drunk enough . Not nearly drunk enough to forget the weight of this ring and the cage of promises I’ve built around myself.

“Another round!” I call, ignoring Mia’s concerned look. “We’re just getting started.”

As the bartender lines up another row of shots, I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar—but my attention snags on him first.

He moves with an easy confidence, the kind that says he knows people watch him. Broad shoulders under a snug black dress shirt, sleeved rolled up just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. A lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he slides a drink to a waiting hand, eyes flicking up just briefly—landing on me.

Something sharp and immediate cuts through the haze of liquor—a pull, direct and undeniable. The kind of man Matthew would hate. The kind of man I’d never let myself want—until now.

I see myself in the mirror… lipstick smudged, my hair slipping free, pupils blown wide from the alcohol and adrenaline. I barely recognize the girl looking back at me.

Good.

I hesitate—just for a second. Just long enough to feel the weight of what I’m about to say.

“To always remembering who we are,” I toast, raising my glass.

The music is loud. The night is young. But my nerves are raw, thrumming beneath the alcohol. I tell myself to just enjoy it—to let go. But fun shouldn’t feel like standing on the edge of a cliff, like I’m about to jump without knowing if I’ll land or drown.

I’m terrified. I’m exhilarated. And I’m doing it anyway.

Every shot, every beat, every reckless choice tonight isn’t just testing the hinges—it’s prying the bars on Matthew’s carefully built cage loose. One crack, then another. I tell myself I can stop. That I will stop.

I should be afraid of losing Matthew. Maybe I am. But the closer I get to ‘I do’, the more it feels like I’m lying—to him, to my parents. To myself. Because when was the last time I felt wanted? Really wanted?

Not for how well I fit into a plan, but for myself?

Fear isn’t a leash—it’s a dare. And tonight, I’m daring myself to want more.

I take the shot. I take the jump. And I don’t look back.