One Bad Decision
The night Zara Wood made the worst—and possibly best—decision of her seventeen-year-old life began with a borrowed silver dress, a fake ID tucked into her bra, and her best friend hanging halfway out of a moving car.
“RedScent Academy!” Ava screamed into the summer night, her blond curls whipping wildly in the wind. “They have no idea what’s coming!”
Zara lunged forward from the back seat and yanked her friend down by the waistband of her jeans.
“Sit down before you become roadkill!”
Ava collapsed into the passenger seat, laughing so hard she nearly cried.
“You’re ruining my cinematic moment.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“That’s what all boring people say.”
“I got a scholarship to the most prestigious school in the country,” Zara said. “I think I’ve earned the right to be a little boring.”
From behind the wheel, Mia snorted.
“Correction,” she said. “You were boring.”
Zara gasped dramatically.
“I’m sorry?”
“Tonight,” Mia said, turning up the music, “you are seventeen, brilliant, ridiculously hot, and making terrible decisions.”
Ava raised her drink from a fast-food cup.
“To terrible decisions!”
Zara laughed and clinked her soda against Ava’s.
Outside the windows, the city of RedScent glittered like a promise.
Everything about it felt larger than life—glass towers, flashing lights, expensive cars, and people who looked like they belonged on magazine covers. It was a world away from Willow Creek, the tiny farming town Zara had called home all her life.
Back home, everybody knew everybody.
Mrs. Henderson from the grocery store still pinched Zara’s cheek.
Coach Dawson asked about her grades every Sunday.
And if Zara sneezed in public, her mother would hear about it before dinner.
Tonight was different.
Tonight, no one knew her.
And for the first time in her life, that felt exhilarating.
The club was called Obsidian.
It rose above the street like a black jewel, all smoked glass, crimson lights, and a line of beautiful people waiting behind velvet ropes.
Zara stared up at it.
“We are definitely underdressed.”
Ava adjusted her tiny black dress.
“Speak for yourself.”
Mia smirked. “Your fake ID is in place?”
Zara touched the hidden card tucked against her skin.
“Yep.”
“Your lip gloss?”
“Check.”
“Your dignity?”
Zara considered it.
“Questionable.”
“Perfect,” Ava declared, linking arms with her. “Let’s go ruin your life.”
Inside, the bass hit Zara so hard she felt it in her bones.
Lights flashed.
Bodies moved.
The air smelled like perfume, sweat, and expensive liquor.
Within fifteen minutes, Ava had dragged her onto the dance floor.
Within thirty, Zara was laughing so hard her cheeks hurt.
Within an hour, she was pleasantly tipsy and dancing with more confidence than she had ever shown in her life.
“This is insane!” Zara shouted over the music.
Ava grinned. “And?”
“And I love it!”
“That’s my girl!”
Mia appeared with another round of drinks.
“This one tastes like bad choices and regret.”
“Perfect,” Zara said, taking a sip.
It tasted like blue raspberry and poor judgment.
By midnight, Zara felt fearless.
And then she felt it.
That unmistakable sensation of being watched.
She turned.
And her world stopped.
He stood in the VIP section overlooking the dance floor.
Tall. Dark-haired. Impossibly handsome.
He wore black like it had been invented specifically for him.
His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, and his gray eyes seemed almost silver under the lights.
And he was looking directly at her.
Not casually.
Not by accident.
Like she was the most interesting thing in the room.
Zara’s stomach flipped.
Ava followed her gaze.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“That guy.”
“What about him?”
“That face should come with a warning label.”
Mia squinted.
“More like several warning labels.”
The stranger lifted his glass toward Zara.
Without thinking, she lifted hers in return.
The corner of his mouth curved into a slow, devastating smile.
Heat rushed to Zara’s cheeks.
Ava grabbed her arm.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
“I am breathing.”
“No, you’re malfunctioning.”
Zara laughed, but her pulse thundered.
The stranger said something to the two people beside him.
Then he started walking toward her.
“Oh my God,” Zara whispered.
Ava grinned wickedly.
“Have fun.”
And then, traitor that she was, she and Mia disappeared into the crowd.
From the VIP section, Mason Fox watched the human girl with growing fascination.
She was vibrant.
Unfiltered.
So alive that it was almost blinding.
Theo lounged on the velvet booth beside him, his dark hair artfully messy.
“Well,” Theo drawled, “that was subtle.”
Lila, seated across from them in a red dress that matched the club lights, arched an eyebrow.
“She noticed you.”
Mason kept his eyes on Zara.
“She’s interesting.”
Theo snorted.
“You say that like she’s a rare book.”
“Maybe she is.”
Lila narrowed her eyes.
“She’s human.”
Mason finally looked at her.
“I’m aware.”
“Then don’t.”
Theo raised his glass.
“I support this message.”
Mason smirked.
“I’m just talking to her.”
Theo grinned.
“That’s where all your problems start.”
Mason ignored him.
On the dance floor, Zara laughed at something her friend said, and Mason felt the strange, unsettling certainty that his night had just changed.
Without another word, he stood.
Theo leaned back with a satisfied grin.
“There he goes.”
Lila sighed.
“This is a terrible idea.”
Theo watched Mason disappear into the crowd.
“The best ones always are.”
Zara had exactly three seconds to prepare before the stranger stopped in front of her.
Up close, he was even more beautiful.
Which seemed unfair.
“You were staring,” she said.
His silver eyes gleamed.
“You noticed.”
“Hard not to.”
“Good.”
His voice was smooth and low enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Zara folded her arms.
“Do you always walk up to random girls like this?”
“Only the ones who seem worth it.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“And what makes you think I’m worth it?”
Mason’s gaze traveled slowly over her face.
“Everything.”
Zara’s breath caught.
He extended a hand.
“Mason.”
Finally.
She slipped her hand into his.
“Zara.”
His fingers were cool—shockingly cool.
She frowned.
“Your hands are freezing.”
His mouth twitched.
“You’ll get used to it.”
The answer should have sounded strange.
Instead, it sounded like a promise.
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
Zara nearly forgot how to speak.
“You’re very confident.”
Mason smiled.
“You’re still holding my hand.”
She glanced down.
He was right.
“I might be drunk.”
“And I might be dangerous.”
Zara met his eyes.
“Should I be worried?”
His expression darkened for just a second.
“Yes.”
Her heart raced.
Then he smiled again.
“But not tonight.”
And somehow, that was the most intriguing thing anyone had ever said to her.
