Sabina knocks back the last of her drink in a single go, letting out a satisfied sigh and blinking rapidly as the alcohol settles within her system. Sliding the glass across the counter towards the bartender, she turns to Mary Jane and says, "So. Spill."

"It's the same old," she answers, tapping her fingernails against the beer bottle. No matter how frustrated she is, Mary Jane doesn't want to get wasted with shots and tequila—no, that shit hurt her head too much in the morning that she literally wants to crawl in a hole and hide there forever. She tips her head back and takes another sip. "The Chaucers are fucked up. Who has dinner with your husband's one-night-stand?"

"Your mother," Sabina deadpans, shooting the bartender a grin when he set a new glass of the same concoction right in front of her. He promptly walks away with a flustered expression. "You know what you should do? You should stop attending. Easy as that."

Mary Jane exhales heavily and leans further against the bar, eyes roaming the crowded dance floor. "No, not as easy as that. Let's talk about something else. How was your shoot today?"

Sabina Kyle turns heads as soon as she walks inside a room; her honey-brown complexion and piercing green eyes were enough to render anyone speechless, although the dark-skinned beauty insists that what does the trick are her thick eyebrows that frame her face perfectly. Mary Jane met her under unusual circumstances—when she was hotboxing inside the bathroom of their dorm room.

"Hello," Mary Jane said.

"Wassup," Sabina slurred, looking dazed.

It was an obvious question, but, "Are you high?"

"Am I what?"

"High."

"Hello."

That was the start of a beautiful friendship. ("You can't smoke that shit inside our dorm room!" yelled Andy, eyes wide with panic and seeming traumatized as soon as she had processed the situation, "smoking is banned! Getting high is banned in here! We need some rules, we're going to get caught!")

Sabina is majoring in photography and happens to be working as a part-time model as well. She's been scouted a few days ago by a starting magazine company, and though it's nothing big, Sabina's thrilled to finally be back in front of the camera. Mary Jane is confident that she'll make it big in no time, and she can't wait to be by her friend's side, still supporting her all the way when it happens.

Out of the three of them, Sabina is the most impulsive and blunt. She says things as they are, doesn't sugarcoat anything—won't sugarcoat anything, and will probably cliff dive with no hesitation at all. She's hardworking, passionate, and fiercely loyal.

Sabina Kyle is a woman of fire. She'll burn anyone who degrades her because of her skin color and who hurts the people she cares about.

Those people are only a few. Andy, Mary Jane, and her father.

"The photographer was hitting on me the whole time," the older responds after gulping down half her drink. "I told him to stick his dick down his throat and to fuck himself. Never walked out so fast and so sexy in my entire life. It was a good experience."

Mary Jane snorts. "I can tell."

"How's the search?"

At the mention of the topic, the ginger bites her lip and puts down her beer. "I'm never going to find him, Sab. I want to give up—ow, don't pinch me!"

"You were being delusional," Sabina says, pressing her lips to a thin line as she narrows her eyes. "You said this guy helped you through your depression. How can you give up?"

"It's been two years," Mary Jane whispers, shaking her head. "It's nothing compared to the lifetime he saved, but...it's been two years. I know I go to Worthington once in a while, I try to search him up, but there's nothing I can find about him."

Sabina lets it go for now. The two continue their conversation against the bar, and Sabina finishes another glass while Mary Jane downs the last of her beer. High off her buzz, the dark-skinned beauty makes her way onto the dance floor. Mary Jane watches her friend with a smile on her lips, amused at the amount of people who are clearly astonished at the sight of her as she passes.

She doesn't notice when there's a presence taking the seat beside her, where Sabina was once seated a few minutes ago, until the bartender howls loudly with a call of, "There he is! How you doin', man?"

The newcomer grasps the bartender's hand tightly before letting go to lean forward against the table top. "All good, Dayton," he says in a low tone, and Mary Jane's finger stills its circling against the bottle's rim, startled by the deepness and the huskiness of it that she couldn't help but cast him a sideways glance.

She catches her breath—the man's face is well-defined, with a sharp jaw and angular cheekbones, as if he were made to spoil any person who looks at him. His skin a pale milky-white, his hair a beautiful, rich color of mahogany, and light eyes dancing and bold. His lips make Mary Jane wonder how they move in a kiss, how those long, slender fingers follow the curve of a body he touches.

He's awe-striking.

"Give me the usual, and make another for the pretty lady. It's on me."

"I don't accept drinks from strangers," Mary Jane interjects quickly with an arched brow, eyes locking onto the man's. "No matter how attractive they are. Thanks, but no thanks."

His mouth slowly curves to a lazy, half-smile. "Confident of you to assume I was talking about you."

Mary Jane isn't fazed. She shrugs. "It's happened a lot. Forgive me if I was wrong."

His tongue slides across his lower lip as he cocks his head. "And do you really reject all these strangers?"

"I do, but I'm willing to grant an exception." She finally lets go of the beer bottle and faces him fully, lifting a corner of her lips. "If I'm swayed enough, I might just accept an invitation as well."

"You've never been here, right?"

"No. First time."

He stares at her. Dangerously.

And an hour later, after much flirting and dancing and drinking, Mary Jane finds herself pressed against the wall of an empty room in the club, mind too clouded and fuzzy to ask whose. The man slides his hands around her waist and pulls her to him, chasing her lips for a hard, passion-fueled kiss.

Here, in this place, she feels like floating.

When they're rid of their clothes, Mary Jane breathes, "I'm doing this to forget."

He stills his hands and pulls away, eyes dark with want and need. "And I'm doing this to remember."

Remember what? Mary Jane doesn't know, but she doesn't ask.

Just loses herself in him.