Page 8 of Hero After Midnight (Gibson Hollow)

Ramsey

Bodie:

Rick’s girl rear-ended a parked car. Might be a concussion. ER run just in case. I’m taking him. Go without me. She’s less likely to clock you, anyway.

C lassic twinsense logic. We’d talked before about how Bodie thought Alia might know he was there as soon as she walked in the room. But me? I was background noise.

Yeah, that’s not sus at all. I’m one hundred percent checking in with Rick later to see if this ER run really happened.

I squinted into the passenger-side mirror of my beat-up truck, trying to straighten a crooked tie that wasn’t even mine, tugged the mask down from my forehead and settled it over my face.

Took a deep breath like I was about to step onto the field wondering—for the millionth time—if this was a bad idea.

The last thing I wanted to do was get in Alia’s way tonight, piss her off, make her feel like she couldn’t stand on her own.

But staying away hadn’t felt right either. Not when I knew what kind of night she was walking into. Not when I knew how hard she’d fought just to put that dress on.

The tux sleeves tugged at my shoulders, tight enough to remind me this wasn’t tailored.

Hell, the whole outfit had come from Bodie’s cousin, who wore his muscle mass like decoration instead of profession.

And I was about to go sneak through a back door like I was pulling a heist instead of crashing a glorified frat party.

Which… okay. Maybe a little of both.

The venue was one of those multipurpose halls the university used for everything from parties to alumni donor dinners.

I skirted the side of the building, avoiding the main entrance, and slipped in through a cracked service door at the back.

It closed behind me with a soft click that still sounded too loud.

A couple of catering staff gave me a glance but didn’t stop me.

Apparently, being massive and in a tux was enough to pass.

I moved fast. My nerves had me on edge, adrenaline buzzing under my skin like I was walking into a fight I didn’t know the rules for. I told myself I was here to check on her. Keep watch from a distance. Let her have her night. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and I knew it.

I wanted to see her. Just her.

It was ridiculous, really, trying to act like a shadow when I was built like a walk-in freezer.

The narrow service hallway felt like it shrank around me with every step.

I dodged a tower of champagne flutes, ducked under a hanging exit sign, and tried to ignore the very real possibility that I was about to get kicked out for impersonating an invited guest because I had to see her.

Not talk. Not interfere. Just… see.

See if she was okay. See if she’d really done it—put on the dress, the mask, stepped into that room like she owned it. Like she was done hiding.

The hallway spit me out behind a curtain near what I guessed was the DJ booth—currently occupied by some guy in a gold half-mask and a bomber jacket, bobbing his head to a remix of something that might’ve been Rihanna. Or maybe Beyoncé. It was hard to tell under the bass line rattling the windows.

The venue itself had clearly started out classy—arched doorways, polished floors, string lights dripping from beams overhead.

Gilded wall sconces and some heavy velvet curtains tried to pretend this was high society.

But the illusion crumbled fast under the strobe lights and the swarm of college students moving like a single drunken organism.

Obviously, a bunch of them had pre-gamed before the party.

People were everywhere. Twirling, shouting, half-dancing, half-grinding to the beat.

Costumes ranged from elegant to absurd—lace ballgowns paired with feathered masks and Converse sneakers, full tuxedos undone at the neck, a pair of guys in matching vampire capes tossing ping-pong balls into plastic cups at a side table like this was still a frat house.

I adjusted my mask and moved fast, keeping to the edges, trying not to get caught in anyone’s orbit. No one paid me much attention. There was too much noise, too many distractions. Only one more guy in a monkey suit.

But even in all the chaos, my guard stayed up as I continued scanning the room.

Will I even recognize her?

It was a stupid question. Alia could be wearing a wig and head-to-toe sequins, and I’d still know her walk. The tilt of her chin. The way she moved when she didn’t think anyone was watching.

The crowd pulsed again as the music shifted, and for a split second I let the doubt creep in. What if I couldn’t find her? What if she didn’t want to be found?

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, the fabric of the tux straining against my shoulders as I kept weaving through the bodies and noise. The plan was simple: get in, keep my distance, make sure she was okay, and that she stayed that way.

Simple.

Except nothing about this felt simple now. Not when I was desperate to see her step into that spotlight. For once, I wanted to witness what she looked like when she didn’t hold anything back.

I turned from the punch table, pretending to be fascinated by the label on a half-empty bottle of off-brand sparkling cider, and nearly crashed straight into her.

I stopped short, one step away from repeating the moment I hadn’t been able to shake since Whiskey Jack’s—the jolt of collision, the feel of her arms in mine, the look on her face when her world had split in half.

Only… this wasn’t that night. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t devastated. She was standing tall. Shoulders back. Chin lifted like she owned the goddamn room.

And maybe she did.

The dress was purple. Not soft or sweet or forgettable, but deep, dangerous, and dramatic.

There was probably some fancy girl name for the shade of it.

All I could call it was stunning. It clung to her like it had been sewn straight onto her skin, dipping at the back, slit at the thigh, daring you to keep your eyes up.

Her heels added inches to her already-perfect posture, and every precise and deliberate step she took struck like punctuation.

A rhythm she set, and the room followed.

Because the other people in the room definitely noticed her.

And I couldn’t blame them.

I’d seen her angry. I’d seen her focused, tired, laughing so hard she snorted soda out her nose—but this?

This was different. This was deliberate.

She’d chosen to be seen tonight. Chosen power, precision, boldness.

And I was so far gone I didn’t know whether I wanted to shield her or drop to one knee and vow allegiance.

Her mask was black and metallic purple, with silver accents.

Intricate, with a subtle gleam that caught the lights enough to hint at something wicked.

Feathers curled from both sides, not overdone—flirting with the edge of mystery.

The whole thing had been made to flaunt those long-lashed eyes of hers.

The eyes that slid up to mine and made the whole damn room fall away for a second.

It didn’t matter that half her face was hidden. That she hadn’t said a word. I knew.

Of course I knew.

The way she stood. The shape of her mouth. The fire in the set of her shoulders. It wasn’t just recognition—it was something lower and deeper. Like gravity shifted, and every part of me aligned toward her without needing to think about it.

And underneath that pull was a flicker of something rawer. Pride maybe. Or awe. Or that selfish little corner of me that wanted to believe she looked this powerful, this untouchable, because she’d finally stopped shrinking for people who didn’t deserve her.

She held my gaze. Not startled, not shy. Her expression didn’t shift. There was no gasp of recognition, no subtle tilt that said she knew what I was hiding beneath the mask.

Which meant maybe she didn’t know it was me. Not for sure.

And God help me, maybe that was safer, because I didn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t trust myself not to give everything away. This version of her—standing fully in her power, beautiful and unapologetic—made it that much harder to remember all the reasons I couldn’t reach for more.

My hands hovered for a breath before I realized they’d already moved—palms out, half-lifted in case I needed to steady her. I didn’t. She didn’t stumble. Only slowed and stood her ground like a queen surveying the map before battle.

Then someone else moved into her orbit. Too slick.

Too sure of himself. The kind of guy who treated his reflection like a second date.

Tux sharp, hair sharper, mask probably custom.

I could smell the cologne from ten feet away.

The way he angled in beside her was pure calculation.

Not hello. Not can I join you? Assumption that he could and would be welcomed.

His hand lightly skimmed her elbow, like maybe he thought that made it okay. She shifted a half step back, polite, but firm. Drawing a line he pretended not to see.

I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. One step, and I was there, slipping into the space at her side like I’d always been meant to fill it. I didn’t touch her at first. I let the size of me speak before anything else did. Then, with deliberate calm, I dropped my hand to the small of her back.

“There you are. Been looking everywhere for you.”

She didn’t blow the cover. She simply looked up at me through that razor-edged mask, like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

And for one breathless second, I wondered if she knew. If the weight of that look was something more. There was something in the way she held my gaze—steady, almost familiar. A little too familiar?

But then she didn’t say my name. Didn’t blink like she recognized the guy behind the voice. Her expression stayed level, unreadable in a way that made it easier to breathe.

That was all I needed.

I shifted closer. Not crowding her, but making sure there was no space for slick-boy to pretend he hadn’t been dismissed.

The guy blinked. Straightened his cuffs like maybe that would salvage his ego. “Didn’t realize you were with someone.”

“We’re good now.” I didn’t smile. Didn’t offer an out. I stood there, a wall with a voice, waiting for him to go.

He held my gaze one second too long before muttering something and turning away.

I didn’t watch him go. I was too aware of the girl beside me, the heat of her body through the thin fabric between us, the way her breathing didn’t waver.

She looked up at me, one brow arched beneath the gleam of her mask. The corner of her mouth tugged like she was trying not to laugh. “I had that handled.”

I lifted my hands in surrender. “I know. Didn’t mean to interfere.”

That was a lie. I’d absolutely meant to interfere. But I hadn’t meant to get caught wanting to.

“Just…” I shrugged, stepping back a little. Giving her space. “Guys like that tend not to take no for an answer. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to make things clear.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer, like she was deciding how to take that. There was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Not suspicious, exactly, but… like she was trying to place me. Then she nodded, once. A subtle acknowledgment. A silent thank-you, maybe.

I glanced around, trying to remember what the hell I was supposed to be doing. Watching. Protecting. Blending in. None of that felt right anymore.

“Need help finding your date?” I kept my voice neutral.

She tilted her head. “Don’t have one.”

I’d known that. It was the whole reason Bodie had come up with this lunatic scheme in the first place.

But the words still hit me like a delayed punch to the chest. I managed a casual nod, like the idea of her being free at last didn’t give me all kinds of…

notions. I couldn’t see her whole face, but I could see her mouth. And right now, it was unreadable.

The charged silence stretched.

This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to engage. I wasn’t supposed to want.

But I did.

And apparently, I was an idiot.

I cleared my throat, nerves pricking under my collar. “Me neither. You wanna…” I faltered. Damn it. Why was this suddenly the hardest thing I’d ever done? “You wanna hang out?”

Hang out? Jesus. What was I, fourteen?

But instead of giving that the laugh or scoff it deserved, she flashed a warm smile that was bright enough to kick my pulse into overdrive. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

The whole damn world tilted. I did my best to hold back a grin and a fist pump. “Should we introduce ourselves?” The words slipped out before I could think better of them.

Abort! Abort! This wasn’t the plan! She’s not supposed to know it’s you.

But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink like she recognized me as anything more than a stranger in a mask. Amusement curved her lips. “I think the entire point of this kind of party is the mystery.”

Look at her, saving me from myself.

If she’d known—really known—it would’ve shown. Wouldn’t it? She would’ve tilted her head just a little differently. Said my name. Asked why I was here. Something. But she hadn’t. And now she was giving me this moment, like it meant nothing more than what it was.

So maybe she didn’t know.

And maybe that was okay.

I didn’t have to explain. Didn’t have to ruin it with reality. I could just… be here. With her. For a little while.

She didn’t say anything else. Only turned slightly, that deep purple dress catching the light like smoke over a flame, and offered the barest tip of her head in invitation.

I stepped into stride beside her.

Not as Ramsey. Not as Bodie’s best friend or the guy she probably thought she’d never see like this. Not as the person who’d walked her home that night without ever saying the words he shouldn’t say.

Just a man behind a mask.

And she was nobody’s sister, nobody’s ex. Not tonight. Tonight, she was a mystery in purple and shadow, her name swallowed by the bass line, and her intentions lost somewhere in the curve of her smile.

Some part of me—maybe the last sane one—whispered that this was dangerous. That the more I leaned into the game, the harder it would be to let go.

But I didn’t stop.

Because this was the only version of the story where I got to stand beside her like this, unburdened by all the reasons I shouldn’t. This was the loophole in the contract. The space between the lines.

Behind the mask, I could pretend.

And for one night, I was going to let myself believe I had the right to want her.

So I didn’t walk away.