JUST ONE NIGHT

ter

ph

s it slipped down. I wasn't concerned. I wasn't drinking for the taste or the buzz. I was

ous entrepreneurs. After three days of prospects, contacts, and success s

the offers that weren't rejections were nearly as bad-meek offers that barely made

of the Heineken into my glass and lett

ceived financial support from their parents. Even though they discussed the dangers they took, th

uation. I could have taken over, rebuilt it, and expanded it into something larger. But that dream had died

art my own business without money? Nobody wa

ful but also respected. A future in which I would restore the legacy my father had left behind. But all those drea

aken away. But, how could I? How could I start something from scratch if no one

ptiness within me growing heavier. 'What's the po

g and capable, now seemed like a joke. A facade to

aughter, music, and clinking glasses-the kind of party I s

er had to worry about failure. They may fail a thousand times an

d at the liquid, wondering if drowning in it would relieve the strangling sensation inside

nt would help me get rid of my depression. But my body felt strange, heavy, and detached from my thinking. My heart raced, the c

beneath me, and before I knew it, I was falling. A hand sprang out,

culately dressed, and smiled slowly and deliberately. "You look like you've had quite th

even for me. "Something like that," I

eyes never left mine; they were too keen and acute. Alarm bells went off in the back

s hold was solid, almost too firm, as he drew me to the dance floor. "So

t something-an anxiety crawling up my spine, warning me as my body followed him. I tri

waist. The contact was not comfortable; it felt possessive, as if he was holding me in plac

spine, and for a second, I wanted to shove him away. I should. I knew I should. B

ut my voice cracked. I was too tired and exhausted to fight i

tighter. My breath caught, and I attempted to pull back,

t it felt like I was locked inside my own body, a puppet with tangled strings. I didn't have contr

in the dim light, and his hand slid up, fingers brushing against my arm in a way that made my skin c

, and my mind were a blur. I needed to say something and move, but I couldn't. It

ied to back away, but Jackson's grip remained tight. "You're fine," h

scream, but my body was betraying me, the alcohol binding me to this spot. Before

d. The chilly air from the corridor hit me like a slap, but it wasn't enoug

ongside him. And all of a sudden, the weight of my decisions,

my head. There