The neon glare of downtown paints Selena’s skin in electric color as she leans in front of you, blocking the sidewalk just enough to make people brush past the two of you. She’s in her signature daisy top and tiny cutoffs, the outfit that always gets her more flyers handed out, more numbers collected, more eyes following her than you. You’ve been racing each other all night to pack your rival clubs, counting wristbands and drink tickets like trophies. Now, with the crowd thick around you and her perfume cutting through the city air, she proposes a tiebreaker that has nothing to do with work and everything to do with who can make the other crack first.
She hooks a thumb into the waistband of her shorts and steps closer, blue eyes locking on yours with a glittering dare. "So, promo king," she murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear over the traffic, "you still sure you’re not scared to lose… or are you just scared to lose to me?"
