ONE NIGHT ONLY

Music and laughter permeated the night air. People walked like shadows beneath the gentle, warm lights inside The Lantern, a tiny pub hidden away in the center of the city. Glasses clinked. Numbers of voices grew and dropped. It smelled of worn leather, spilled beer, and something sweet-perhaps someone's perfume floating in the air.

Sitting at the very end of the bar, Sarah ran her fingers around the rim of an unmarked drink. She was not scheduled to be here. She truly had not planned anything at all. She had drifted in after a long, terrible week, hoping maybe the noise would cover her thoughts. It had not.

Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders as she donned a basic black dress and boots. Her gaze swept the room, not particularly focused on anyone-up until she did.

Two stools apart, he was seated alone, swabbing a glass of whiskey and gazing down at the ice as though it contained all the answers he needed. He appeared like he didn't belong here-tall, with messy dark brown hair and a slight stubble. Not like the groups snapping selfies in the margins or the raucous throng laughing too loudly. He gazed... lost. Perhaps a little damaged. Just like her.

Their eyes met briefly. Long enough.

Sarah turned away first, her heart thumping oddly in her chest.

She was sure that was all there was-only a fleeting moment separating two strangers.

He then spoke, though.

His voice was low, harsh yet somehow kind, uttering, "You look like you could use a better drink."

Sarah turned, a tiny grin fluttering at her lips despite herself. She teased gently, "Is that your way of saying mine's bad?"

He grinned back, a leisurely, genuine smile that brightened her inner world. "Maybe. Alternatively, it might be just a reason to chat with you."

Sarah chuckled, surprised by the sound. God, she hadn't laughed like that in weeks.

She moved closer, inquisitively sparking against caution. "Well, let me say your excuse is accepted. I am Sarah."

"Alex," he replied, extending his hand. When they touched, hers felt warm.

They commanded fresh drinks and discussed nothing at first: music, work, the worst films they had ever viewed-the sort of simple, foolish chat someone has while attempting to deny they are already hooked.

Still, something lay beneath it-a power source, a pull.

Sarah felt it every time she caught him watching her-really watching, like she was the only actual thing in the room. She worked to forget about it.

She did not notice hours passing. The night grew darker, the bar thinner. They still remained, though.

They chatted still, though.

Still, that pull became stronger.

The last round was called by the bartender, and Alex leaned in just a little closer. His voice was hardly above a whisper. "Come with me."

Sarah's heart missed a beat. She ought to decline. This was not typical for her. She was not the kind to leap without looking, trust a stranger, or pursue a feeling.

But seeing into his eyes-open, honest, full of something she couldn't name-she realized two things:

One: She would lament saying no for the rest of her life.

Two: Her life may never be the same again if she answered yes.

Sarah thought hard.

"Okay," she murmured.

And just like that, the evening started.