Josh

Jessica smiled back, heart already flipping in her chest. He was taller than Tyler, broader than Matt, and had that look in his eye like he was used to getting what he wanted, and did not expect a 'no'.

“Hey,” he said as he reached her. “You looked like someone worth meeting.”

It was a line. She let it slide.

“I’m Josh.”

She gave him her name, her smile, her full attention. He barely seemed to register it.

“You're cute, but this place sucks,” he said, glancing around. “You feel like checking somewhere else out?”

There was no invitation. Just movement.

He turned and started walking. She followed.

The second club was colder and louder. Thicker with smoke and sweat, lights flashing fast. The bass felt like it could shake away sore muscles.

Josh cut through the crowd, barely checking to see if she was behind him. He knew she would be. He’d pulled hotter girls than her. But right now, she was convenient. That much was clear. "Nice tits, though," she imagined he thought to himself.

He didn’t ask what she liked. Didn’t ask what she drank. He ordered something strong for himself, then left the glass on the bar. She already knew this was a mistake, but she wasn’t ready to leave yet. She was convenient as a backup fuck. She knew it. Felt it in the way his eyes skimmed past her, already searching for better. She wasn’t the prize—just something to fill the space in case the real thing didn’t show up.

She laughed when he made a joke she didn’t understand. She leaned in when he shifted away.

She was trying. She really was.

Then they both saw _her_ at the same time.

A blonde in a tight red dress, bare legs, blue eyes. The kind of girl who didn’t have to try.

Everything about Josh changed in one second.

He straightened up. Ran a hand through his hair. Eyes locked.

“Back in a sec,” he said, already walking.

She watched him disappear into the crowd like she hadn’t existed at all.

She didn’t remember walking home.

Just the ache in her feet. The cold wind slipping into her jacket. The way every passing window reflected a girl who looked hotter than she used to be, but not hot enough. Not nearly as hot.

A slimmed waist, firmer tits and ass. Smoother skin, upstairs and below.

But it hadn’t been enough.

She peeled off her jeans. U-shaped top that really showed off her cleavage. Bra. Panties. Her skin still smelled like expensive drinks and the collective sweat from the crowd.

She didn’t cry. Not really. But her throat was tight in a way that made breathing feel stupid. Why did she have to pick someone who would only ditch her at the first possibility?

She laid down on the bed and pulled the vibrator from her drawer like a punishment. Cold, plastic. Loud in the silence.

Her fingers found her clit. She turned the vibe to medium and let it buzz.

She didn’t close her eyes. Didn’t fantasize about Josh. Not anymore.

The orgasm hit fast. Tight, sharp. Not nearly enough to satisfy.

She exhaled. Wiped herself with the corner of the sheet.

The toy dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

Somewhere inside her, something shifted. Not cracked—clicked.

Like a switch.

Tomorrow she wouldn’t flirt.

She wouldn’t hope.

She wouldn’t follow.

She’d fuck.

And she’d take what she needed.

The only thing she got tonight was a memory of being ignored. And a silent reminder: this game didn’t reward the hopeful.