“You’re not even trying,” Zoe shouted over the bass-heavy thrum of the club, her voice teasing as she leaned closer to Zane. He rolled his eyes, his tall frame swaying awkwardly to the beat, his dark hair falling into his face as he tried to keep up with her effortless rhythm. “I’m trying,” he shot back, grinning despite himself. “This song just hates me.”

Zoe and Zane had been friends since college, though their dynamic had always been a little charged—playful banter, lingering glances, and the occasional accidental touch that neither of them acknowledged. Tonight, she wore a tight black dress that hugged her curves, her long blonde hair catching the strobe lights as she moved. Zane, in his usual button-down and jeans, looked out of place but endearingly so, his sharp jawline and broad shoulders drawing more than a few glances from the crowd.

“Fine,” Zoe said, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in to whisper, “Let me show you how it’s done.” Her breath was warm against his ear, and for a moment, Zane froze, his eyes locking with hers. The music pulsed louder, the crowd pressing in around them, and Zoe’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Or are you too scared?” she added, her voice low and challenging. Zane hesitated, his heart racing as the lights flickered around them.