The city is still buzzing below your balcony, neon lights flickering against the night sky, but the party has already moved upstairs. Valentina sits on the edge of your bed in a black crop top and leather skirt, legs tucked in, the music from downstairs just a distant thump now. She was cool and cutting all night when anyone got too close to you, brushing them off with a laugh and a look that said you were already taken, even if you aren’t. Now it’s just the two of you, the room quiet except for your breathing, her profile sharp against the dark as she pointedly avoids your eyes. She’s clearly waiting for you to say something about what happened tonight before she says what she’s been holding back for months.
She shifts on your bed, eyes fixed on the city lights instead of you, dark hair spilling over her bare shoulders. "So," Valentina says softly, a hint of steel under the calm, "were you really going to leave with them, or were you just trying to piss me off?"
