Chapter 4 Beverages, Sparks, and Near-Confessions
Zoe followed Adrian through the lively bar, her heartbeat syncing with the low thrum of the music. The floor vibrated faintly beneath her sneakers, each beat resonating through her legs and chest. Laughter rose and fell like waves around them, lights danced against mirrored walls, and the air carried hints of citrus, smoke, and something electric.
Adrian moved at an unhurried pace, exuding a quiet authority that attracted attention effortlessly. The crowd seemed to part instinctively for him, as though gravity had graciously shifted to clear a way.
Zoe tried to maintain her composure.
She failed instantly.
The way his shoulders moved under his dark shirt, relaxed yet deliberate, looked almost movie-like. He stopped at the counter and glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following, and she quickly claimed a stool beside him, pretending she wasn't mentally combusting.
Act natural, Zoe. Breathe. Don’t act like your soul just exited your body.
The bartender approached with a friendly smile. “What can I get for you two?”
Adrian turned to her, his voice low. “You choose.”
Her mind went blank. She could design complex architectural designs under pressure, but ordering a drink? Is now a challenge. “Uh… something fruity,” she finally managed. “And definitely no flames. I’ve had a long day.”
A slight smile played on Adrian's lips. “Two fruity, non-flammable drinks, please,” he told the bartender.
After the bartender left, Adrian leaned in, resting his forearms on the counter. “So,” he asked casually, “tell me something intriguing about yourself.”
Zoe froze. “No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“That’s way too much pressure,” she insisted, waving her hands. “When you ask someone to be interesting, their brain just deletes every fact about them. Ask me something easier, like about my favorite type of bread, drink and all."
His smile widened, genuine amusement flickering in his eyes. “Okay, what’s your favourite type of bread?”
“Garlic bread,” she replied without hesitation. “I would commit mild emotional crimes for a really good one.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s… oddly specific. I respect that.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I don’t think I have strong feelings about bread,” he admitted.
Zoe gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “That’s concerning. Totally unacceptable.”
He laughed. “I’ll put ‘develops bread opinions’ on my to-do list.”
Just then, their drinks arrive, bright, colorful cocktails topped with fruit slices and tiny paper umbrellas, the innocent-looking kind that likely contained a heavy amount of alcohol.
Zoe eyed hers skeptically. “This looks like a potential disaster for my night.”
Adrian lifted his glass. “Only in the best way.”
She snorted but took a careful sip. It was cold, sweet, and deceptively smooth. “Okay,” she admitted, impressed. “I like it. Might regret this later, but I like it.”
“Good choice,” Adrian said, watching her with quiet amusement.
Zoe turned slightly to face him, resting her elbows on the counter. In the neon glow, his features appeared more defined, his strong jawline, slight shadows under his eyes, revealing a weariness that came from more than just tiredness.
“You don’t seem like you're here for fun,” she said quietly.
He looked at her curiously. “No?”
“No. You look like you came here to think. Or like... brood.” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you a secret brooder, Adrian?”
He tilted his head, pretending to ponder her words. “What do you mean brooding?”
“Simple. Gazing into space without profound emotion. Occasional sighing. Extra points for a tragic backstory.”
He fought to suppress a smile. “I don’t sigh dramatically.”
She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“Fine,” he relented. “Maybe sometimes.”
"Knew it,” she said, grinning.
For a moment, they shared a comfortable silence. No words were needed; the silence between them wasn't heavy, it felt alive, humming with an unspoken connection.
Zoe broke the silence first. “So, what’s on your mind, if you don't mind sharing?”
Adrian's gaze drifted to the mirrored wall behind the counter, where bottles glistened in warm amber and gold. “It’s been… a really long week,” he finally said.
“Work?”
He nodded once. “Yes.”
“What do you do?”
A tiny pause lingered, just enough for Zoe to notice.
Most people would’ve rushed to fill the silence, but Zoe waited patiently, allowing him to find his words. Her expression was open, curious, and free of judgment.
“Management,” he replied at last.
Zoe tilted her head. “That sounds vague and shrouded in mystery. You sound like you're about to appear in a spy thriller.”
He gave a faint smile. “Vague is accurate.”
“Well,” she said, lifting her glass, “I’m a grad student, architecture. That’s vague too, but with more caffeine and existential dread.”
“Architecture,” he echoed thoughtfully. " That explains a lot.”
Her brows knitted together. “Explains what?”
“The way you observe things,” he said.
“I observe things?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“With curiosity.”
Her breath caught unexpectedly. “That’s... the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He met her gaze, steady and sincere. “Then it seems people haven’t been paying attention.”
Her heart fluttered, and she took another sip of her drink to mask her smile.
“Do you come to Vegas often?” she asked after a moment.
“More than I'd prefer,” he replied.
“Ah, so you're a brooder after all,” she teased.
He chuckled lightly. “Possibly.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Maybe tonight will change that.”
Then something in his expression shifted, becoming softer, almost fragile. “Maybe it will,” he whispered.
As a new song played, slowing the tempo, the atmosphere filled with a gentle symphony of laughter and clinking glasses. Neon lights illuminated his face in shades of blue and gold, and for a fleeting moment, Zoe felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the space between them.
Her heart raced. She yearned to say something, anything, but words tangled in her throat.
Then Adrian said her name. “Zoe.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
He hesitated, something real and heavy in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something...
...when a loud crash exploded behind them.
A tray clattered to the floor, glass shattered, and heads turned in their direction. Shouts and laughter erupted, blending into the typical chaos of a Vegas night.
The moment shattered.
Adrian exhaled in what seemed like relief. Zoe blinked, caught between curiosity and confusion. “Well, that was quite a drama.”
He nodded, a small, unreadable smile on his lips.
“What were you going to say?” she asked.
He paused, then shook his head lightly. “Nothing important actually. It can wait.”
She wanted to push further, sensing it was important, but she also understood he wasn’t ready to let it out.
Instead, she raised her glass, offering him an escape. “To tonight,” she said.
He smiled faintly and clinked his glass against hers. “To tonight.”
They drank.
As the night stretched ahead, filled with laughter, light, and unspoken sentiments, neither of them realized this would be the last moment their lives would ever feel uncomplicated.
