Page 10 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

I tug at the hem of my dress, already second-guessing my decision to come.

I should’ve brought a sweater. I’m not a prude, but body confidence is not exactly my strong suit.

My mirror had confirmed what Sal repeated to me while getting ready.

I look good. But looking good and feeling comfortable in my skin are two entirely different things.

The Converse on my feet were my compromise. A small rebellion against the heels Sal had tried to convince me to wear. Sal, in her heels and smoky eye makeup, had fussed over my own hair and makeup like I was her personal project. “Trust me,” she’d said. I’m trying.

The music pulses from inside Jeff’s three-story house, vibrating my bones as we walk up the driveway. It threatens to burst my eardrums, even from the street. The front door hangs open, inviting us inside. His parents must be gone this weekend, and that’s the only excuse he needs.

Inside, the air is thick with bodies, booze, and a lingering scent of weed. Crushed cans and abandoned Solo cups litter every surface. A makeshift beer pong tournament rages on the pool table, protected by a wrinkled sheet. Couples grope and grind around every corner, and I quickly avert my gaze.

Near the keg, a group of guys shove at each other, their movements loose, their grins lazy. A girl stumbles past, her arm slung around her friend’s neck, both of them giggling and clearly beyond trashed. The place hums with reckless energy, the kind that promises bad decisions before midnight.

We are fashionably late. Or maybe just late enough to regret coming.

Sal angles for the kitchen, pouring two cups of cheap liquor and pushing one into my hands.

I hadn’t planned to drink, but if I’m going to be here, I might as well have a little liquid courage.

I gulp and it burns my throat, tears stinging my eyes as I force it down.

Fuck, that was way more than I should’ve had. Especially with no tolerance.

The whole damn school must be here, packed wall to wall. I try to pretend I’m enjoying myself. Fake it till I make it. I follow Sal as she flits from group to group, forever the social butterfly. Eventually, we end up at the beer pong table, and suddenly, I’m playing.

I suck at sports. All sports. But like most things in life, for Sal, I’ll try.

The crowd presses in, eager for a show. Or more likely, eager to see us lose. Across from us, two football players, Jeff’s friends, Thomas and Drew, take their places. This is so unfair.

Thomas smirks, cocky as ever. Arrogance rolling off of him. “Ready to lose, girls?”

Sal and I roll our eyes in tandem. “We’ll see about that,” she taunts back.

Drew grabs his crotch with a disgusting grin. “I’ve got a consolation prize for you when you do.”

Gag me. Doubtful there’s anything impressive hidden in there. The ones who talk the biggest game usually have the least to back it up .

But their taunts work. My competitive streak flares to life, demanding I make them eat their words. I grab the ping-pong ball, determined now to win, and throw.

It sails over the table, bounces off Thomas’s stomach, and plops onto the floor. Laughter roars to life around us and there goes my confidence.

Well, fuck.

Drew wastes no time sinking one on us, and I down my drink, already desperate for another chance to score.

Sal lands the next shot, shrieking with joy as we high-five. I manage two in a row before missing again, but the guys, they don’t fucking miss. Every single one, straight into a cup. I should’ve known. They are athletes, for fuck’s sake.

It takes twenty minutes for us to lose, and when I step away from the table, the room tilts. My stomach lurches.

Fuck. I’m drunk.

I don’t drink often. I hate the nausea, the spinning, the way the world tilts just out of reach. Weed is better. I still feel like me when I smoke. I still make choices that feel like my own. But drunk me? She’s a mess.

As we retreat to the living room, I mentally vow that I’m done drinking tonight.

We squeeze into a chair clearly meant for one and I rest my head on Sal’s shoulder, watching the chaos unfold.

People throwing caution to the wind, indulging in every vice.

Someone even snorts a line of white powder off the coffee table, but the moment is gone before I can fully process it.

I’m still staring at the ceiling fan, hypnotized by its lazy circles, when I realize Sal is gone.

She must’ve snuck off to the bathroom. I push to my feet, wobbling as I make my way through the house.

The rooms are a disorienting maze of beige walls and expensive, impersonal decor. Rich people. I roll my eyes.

The music pounds, my head pulsing with every beat. Lights swirl above me, making it worse. My chest tightens, my stomach twists. The walls start to close in.

I need out.

Where the fuck is Sal?

Fresh air hits me like a slap to the face. I don’t know how I got outside, but I don’t care. I made it. Then my stomach flips and acid rises in my throat. I barely make it to a bush before I’m heaving.

Dainty fingers gather my hair, a voice soft beside me. “You okay? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head. I don’t know her, but I’m grateful anyway.

The music pounds behind me, vibrating through my skull. I need to leave. Now.

I stumble toward the sidewalk, the street stretching dark and empty ahead. No streetlights, no passing cars. It’s well past midnight and the only light comes from the glow of the house I left behind.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep moving. My legs tremble under me, barely keeping me upright. The thought that this isn’t safe flickers in my mind, then disappears before I can grasp it.

When I can’t make it any farther, my body folds to the curb. Head dropping into my hands, I give up on the idea of trying again.

Headlights appear to my left, the rumble of an engine slowing. A car rolls to a stop. A door opens. Footsteps crunch against the pavement.

I lift my head, squinting into the darkness.

A man steps closer, his face still hidden in the shadows.

“Are you here to save me?” I mumble, words slurring.

And then he speaks, his voice gravelly, rough, and familiar. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

My breath catches.

Him .

I try to stand, but my knees buckle. The pavement rushes toward me until strong arms catch me, scooping me up effortlessly. His hold is firm but gentle, pressing me close.

He smells good. Warm cedar, like the woods, with something sweet underneath. Cinnamon and sugar. I could eat him.

I try to tell him so, but my words tangle together in nonsense.

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, voice soft but pained.

“Mhmm…” It’s all I can manage. The alcohol, his warmth, him . It’s too much.

He exhales, long and slow, his chest rising and falling against my side. His expression shifts, like he’s fighting a battle he knows he can’t win.

He carries me to his car, setting me inside before shutting the door. I blink up at him, my vision hazy.

“Sophie…” he says, and it pulls at something deep in me.

I force my heavy eyelids open. “Why are you here?”

He grimaces, like even that is too much to share. “I live nearby.”

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Mmm. Lucky me.”

His jaw tenses. He circles the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. He’s so close now. I reach out, fingertips tracing lazy circles against his arm.

He stills.

And then I’m gone, lost to the pull of sleep.