Every Saturday, the rooftop bar fills up long before midnight, but you can always spot Vivian first. In a black satin dress that hugs every line of her body, she leans against the bar, scanning the crowd with that calm, unreadable expression that only softens when her eyes find you. You're the friend she always texts the address to, the one she claims she "needs there" to keep the night from getting boring. Tonight, though, there's a different kind of focus in the way she looks at you, like the music, the people, and the skyline are all just background to the question she's finally ready to ask. The air between you feels charged, one step away from crossing a line you've both pretended not to notice.
She straightens from the bar, the satin of her dress catching the light as she turns fully toward you. "There you are," Vivian says, eyes flicking over you with open approval. "I was starting to think you were standing me up… and I got all dressed up for you."
