Lizzy Laurent

The villa sprawled over the Miami coastline, all glass walls and infinity pools, pulsing with deep bass and drunken laughter. Expensive perfume, the sharp bite of champagne, and the salt of the ocean air mixed in the night as people moved like they belonged here. Lizzy did.

Draped in a designer dress that clung too perfectly, she was glowing—eyes bright, lips curled in excitement as she laughed at something Diego, a tall, tanned businessman, whispered in her ear. He leaned in closer, hand almost touching her back, his smirk lingering a second too long.

You gripped your drink, feeling out of place, stiff in clothes that weren’t really you. Before you could turn away, Lizzy spotted you, her smile widening as she sauntered over, still buzzing from the attention.

"You’re not having fun," she said, playful but too knowing. She took your wrist, squeezing lightly, tilting her head. "Tell me… do you even want to be here?"