Diamond in the Rough

February 14th, 2017Moralys would give anything to be back home, comfortably ensconced under her warm blanket, surrounded by packets of junk food and the latest crime thriller. But her friend - Brittle had other plans. With a grip like iron, she dragged Moralys out of bed and into the pulsating heart of Rogue Valley's most notorious club, Rose."Are you sure you don't want to leave with me now?" she shouted, her voice barely piercing the wall of thumping bass and shrill laughter."It's fine! Christopher's dropping me home!" Moralys replied, straining to keep her voice steady."Okay, but where's Brittle?" Her sister Mislye, shouted, attempting to cut through the chaos as she scanned the dance floor."She's around here somewhere," Moralys said, pushing her sister toward the exit. "Just enjoy yourself. I'll find her and then head out."Valentine's Day had arrived, a cruel reminder of everything Moralys loathed about love. She had been reluctantly invited to this costume party—'The Power of Lovers'—only to find herself in a fitted pink leather corset and matching skirt, complete with sparkly wings. She felt like a love-crazed alien's unfortunate experiment, and she hated every second of it.Brittle's overzealous need for fun was a burden, and the club felt like a prison. Moralys was not the partying type; she preferred her solitude, with a bottle in hand, far from the throngs of humanity. The disdain for people bubbled within her, a constant reminder of the cards she had been dealt.Just as she thought about retreating to the bar, a woman began grinding against her, reeking of cheap perfume and desperation. Moralys fought back nausea as she leaned closer to whisper in the girl's ear, "As unfortunate as it may be, I like dick." The woman recoiled; horror etched on her face as she stumbled away.With a slight stumble, Moralys made her way to the bar, desperate for a drink that could dull her senses. She was on the hunt for another of those colourful cocktails, craving the sweet oblivion they promised. A stool opened, and she seized it, her heart racing with the thrill of the chaotic environment around her.An hour passed, and still no sign of Christopher or Brittle. Frustration knotted in her stomach as she spotted her best friend, hand in hand with a stranger, slipping into the VIP room. She took a deep breath. Brittle's antics were nothing new, but the absence of her boyfriend stung."Let me guess, a Tropical Sunset... for the fifth time?" the bartender smirked, raising an eyebrow."Oh, baby, how did you know?" she flirted, feeling momentarily buoyed by his attention."Trust me, if we were lovers in a past life, you'd still feel it now," he replied, winking as he mixed her drink.Moralys laughed, though her mind was elsewhere. She chugged the last of her drink, then turned to face the dance floor, scanning for Christopher's familiar red hair. He was supposed to rescue her from this madness, but it seemed she'd have to find her own way out.With the alcohol coursing through her, she navigated to the restroom, only to find a long line snaking out the door. "Is a celebrity here?" she quipped to the girl in front of her, who rolled her eyes without answering.Moralys groaned. If she didn't relieve herself soon, she might just burst. With a quick glance around, she made a split-second decision and bolted into the male restroom, ignoring the stares of startled men as she dashed into an empty stall."Thank you, God," she murmured as relief washed over her. Stepping out, she turned abruptly and collided with something solid.She gasped, her eyes widening as she took in glossy black shoes, tailored pants, and a black Armani suit that clung to the man's frame like a second skin. Her gaze travelled up, locking onto dark, piercing eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets.A chuckle escaped his lips, deep and dangerous, stirring something primal within her. "Careful there," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.Moralys felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "Sorry," she mumbled, her heart racing. She forced herself to turn and escape, but not before stealing one last glance at his inscrutable expression. Something about him both thrilled and terrified her.Back at the bar, she dialed Christopher again. No answer. Frustration bubbled over, and she ordered three tequila shots, needing the burn to match her anxiety. Fifteen minutes later, with still no sign of him, she sent Brittle a final message: Leaving in ten minutes. Good luck with whatever. Don't get hurt."Hey there," a sultry voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to find a stranger with an enigmatic smile leaning against the bar."And how can I help you?" she shot back, her nerves buzzing with alcohol and curiosity."Care to dance?" he asked, his smirk widening.Without a second thought, she nodded and stepped onto the dance floor, heart pounding. If Christopher wasn't going to ravage her tonight, she'd find someone who would—someone who could match the danger thrumming beneath her skin.She might not have looked it, covered in pink, but Moralys had a love-hate relationship with danger. Maybe it was the built-up trauma she refused to come seek therapy for. But one thing she knew, was danger would take her somewhere she probably couldn't talk her way out of.As they moved to the rhythm, she felt alive, reckless, and—just maybe—ready to dive into the unknown.