isn't it? [taylor swift]

chapter 62

The after-party was louder than she expected. Not in volume, exactly, but in sensation. Everything felt turned up. The music wasn't just playing, it was pulsing through her bones. The lights weren't flashing, they were slicing through the dark.

And Leia wasn't just tipsy.

She was warm and slow and laughing too hard at things she didn't quite hear.

The air smelled like perfume and champagne and candle wax that had been burning too long. Somewhere near the kitchen, someone was passing around chocolate truffles on a napkin. In the corner of her eye, she spotted two models tangled together on a velvet sofa. She didn't know anyone's name anymore. Everyone blurred at the edges.

"Leia, baby," someone drawled, brushing past her with a glittering smile and a glass of something pink. "You look divine."

Leia grinned back, let the compliment slide over her like silk. She was wearing something expensive and half-buttoned, something that had once belonged to Taylor but now sat folded in her drawer. Her heels were gone, toes bare against the cold marble of the penthouse floor. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were stained dark with wine.

Riven was somewhere behind her, talking to a stylist she barely knew. There were dancers from someone's tour, and a couple of industry people she'd met once in Berlin. Laughter spilled like confetti.

She wasn't thinking. That was the thing. She wasn't thinking at all.

"Come with us," another voice called. "Upstairs!"

She let them take her hand. She let the hallway lean sideways. She let the laughter echo around her like falling glass.

Upstairs, the lights were lower, the music quieter. Just bass now. Just pulse. Someone was perched on the edge of a marble countertop, hunched over a phone. Another girl was in the armchair, lips parted, glossy with sweat.

Leia sank onto the rug, her head tipping back as she giggled at something she couldn't remember hearing. She had a cocktail glass in her hand. Then a shot. Then another.

A man she didn't recognize sat down beside her. Handsome, in a too-smooth way. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and placed it casually on the table between them. A little plastic bag. White powder inside. Folded. Familiar.

Leia blinked.

He smiled at her like it was nothing. Like it was gum. Like this wasn't the very thing she'd spent the last two years building a life away from.

"You in?" he asked, voice low, friendly.

Leia's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

The music shifted. Everything was louder now. Too bright. Too sharp. Her skin buzzed uncomfortably. The scent of citrus and sweat and someone's cologne was suddenly suffocating. Her drink tilted in her hand, and she had to blink hard to stop the room from spinning.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

She wasn't supposed to even be near this.

"I..." she started, but her voice sounded far away, underwater.

He pushed the bag a little closer.

Just a line, that old part of her whispered. The one she thought she'd buried. The one that always came back with a grin and a shrug. You've been good. You've been strong. Just this once.

She could smell it. She could feel it. That brief, electric anticipation rising up her spine.

She leaned forward. Her fingers moved like they belonged to someone else. She reached for the straw. The room narrowed. Everything got very small. Very quiet.