Come With Me

Arec's POV:

The moment she walked in, the air in the club seemed to change. The dim lights that normally flickered lazily on the walls seemed to sharpen in focus, drawn to the woman who had just entered. My eyes were immediately glued to her, as if there was some magnetic force pulling me in. I couldn't help but stare.

She was stunning, no doubt about that. Her long, copper blonde hair, just like mine cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.

She wore a deep crimson gown, the kind that clung to her curves in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination while still making a statement.

The fabric shimmered subtly under the club lights, with a slit up the side that revealed long, toned legs. Her heels, strappy, black, and impossibly high, clicked softly on the floor as she made her way to the bar, each step measured and deliberate.

She didn't even glance my way as she sat down, two stools over. But I watched her, completely captivated.

I didn't know what it was about her , her beauty, her presence, or maybe the way she seemed to carry some invisible weight on her shoulders. But I couldn't look away.

She ordered a whiskey, straight up, and Sam hesitated for a moment, before he poured her drink. I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

It wasn't every day you saw someone, especially a woman, walk into a high-end nightclub and order whiskey like she was ordering water. Sam glanced at me, raising an eyebrow in return, but he didn't say anything as he slid the glass over to her.

She grabbed the drink with a steady hand, brought it to her lips, and downed it in one go. Then she slammed the glass down on the bar and ordered another.

"Someone's having a bad day," I thought to myself, watching as she reached for the second glass as soon as Sam placed it in front of her.

She didn't savor it, didn't even pause to let the burn settle. She just threw it back, her expression unreadable but for the flicker of something in her eyes, pain, maybe? Misery?

There was something about the sight of her, so beautiful and yet so clearly in pain, that tugged at something deep inside me.

Normally, seeing someone so lost in their own misery would turn me off. I hated the look of helplessness, of someone wallowing in their own pity.

But this…this was different. There was a fleeting feeling inside me, something quick and sharp, like a shooting star that blazes across the sky before vanishing. I couldn't place it, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I watched her keep ordering drinks, drowning herself in the alcohol like it was the only thing keeping her from falling aapart

She was trying so hard to keep it together, but the more she drank, the more her composure seemed to slip. I didn't even notice Sam watching me with that amused look on his face until he leaned in, his voice low.

"Go talk to her," he teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Stop staring like a lovesick puppy."

I shot him a look, rolling my eyes internally. "I'm not staring," I muttered, but even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. Sam just snickered and shook his head, going back to his other customers with that damn knowing smile on his face.

I took another sip of my drink, debating whether or not to take Sam's advice. Part of me wanted to ignore it, to stay in my own bubble and let the night wash away the tension that was still lingering from the argument with my grandmother.

But another part of me, a louder, more insistent part, was drawn to this woman, to the sadness that clung to her like a second skin.

I glanced over at her again, watching as she ordered yet another drink. Now looking so miserable, so helpless, that it almost made me uncomfortable.

And yet, instead of being repulsed like I normally would be, I found myself feeling something else, something like empathy, or maybe curiosity. Whatever it was, it made me stand up and move to the stool right next to her before I could talk myself out of it.

"Rough night?" I asked, my voice coming out softer than I intended. I didn't want to startle her, but I couldn't help the concern that bled into my tone.

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating against the quiet hum of the bar. "You could say that." She lifted her glass in a mock toast before taking another sip, her gaze meeting mine with a look that seemed to see right through me.

I smiled, trying to show her that I understood. Hell, I'd had my share of rough nights, nights where nothing made sense, where the world felt like it was closing in on me. I knew what that kind of pain looked like. "You want to talk about it?" I offered, unsure if she would actually take me up on it.

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she was trying to decide whether or not I was worth talking to. But then, as if some dam had broken inside her, she started talking, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol.

"Three years," she began, her voice thick with emotion. "Three years I spent loving someone, building a life with them, only to find out tonight that it was all a lie. He…he cheated on me. And then he threw me out like I was nothing."

I felt a flash of anger, my chest tightening at the thought of someone treating her like that. I didn't know her, didn't even know her name, but the idea of anyone making her feel worthless made my blood boil. It shocked me, how strong my reaction was, how deeply her pain seemed to resonate with me.

"He sounds like an idiot," I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended.

She smiled at that, a small, sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, he is."

"You deserve better," I said sincerely, the words coming out before I could stop them. I meant it, though, no one deserved to be treated like that, to have their heart crushed and then discarded like it didn't matter.

"Maybe," she replied, her voice soft, almost as if she didn't quite believe it herself.

Our gazes held for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us. I couldn't look away, couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a chance encounter in a bar. There was something about her, something that pulled me in and made me want to know more.

"Come with me," I said suddenly, the words more of an invitation than a command. I didn't know where they came from, didn't even know what I was suggesting, but it felt right.

For a moment, she looked surprised, her eyes widening slightly as she processed what I'd said. I could see the hesitation, the uncertainty in her expression, and for a second, I wondered if I'd pushed too far.