For once, I don't argue. I'm more than happy to leave the chaos of the main bar behind and have a closer look at that ethereal creature. Right now, my mind feels like a tangled knot I can't unravel, and the only thing I can focus on is the cigarette smoke still curling faintly in the air.
It feels almost alive, twisting in the dim amber light of the chandeliers. My fingers itch to trace the shape of the wisps, as though I could untangle the mess in my head through them.
But before I can slip away, Dylan's voice cuts through the noise, sharp and slurred. "MEL! MELLY! GIVE US A SONG!"
I stop mid-step, my entire body tensing.
"Don't you dare," I mutter under my breath, but it's too late. She's on the stage now, swaying like a drunk marionette, her grin wide and malicious. "Oh, come on, Mel! One little song! For old times' sake!"
