No... I stay

{if Helped_Ethan = 1}

I hesitate. Monica’s eyes plead with me, just slightly. There's something in her expression, uncertainty and discomfort, trying to pull me with her.

And then Ethan’s voice creeps back in.

“But if you’re unlucky... she’s already watching.”

I glance back at Ariadne. No, I'm just paranoid.

She’s beyond beautiful, yes—it is kinda weird how perfect she is. But she hasn’t said anything strange and I see no bad intentions. She just... sees me. That’s rare enough.

I’m allowed to be seen, am I not? I’m allowed to talk to someone interesting without building a goddamn conspiracy in my head.

I smile at Monica. “You’ll be fine. Take Ryan.”

Monica’s brow furrows. “Thal—”

“I’m not twelve,” I say lightly, keeping it casual. “You’ll survive five minutes without me.”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Ryan looks caught in the crossfire.

Monica grabs his sleeve. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They disappear into the crowd, and I feel a small pang. Not guilt, exactly. Just the familiar tension of disappointing someone who means well.

But then Ariadne leans slightly closer and murmurs with a little smile:

“Finally alone.”

And the tension softens.

{else}

Monica tugs my elbow again. “Bathroom, please?”

I exhale and pull my arm back. “Seriously? I’m not five.”

“I just want to talk—”

“If it’s urgent, take Ryan,” I say. “You two can hold hands in the scary mirror together.”

Ryan blinks. “Uh... okay.”

Monica doesn’t say anything. Just grabs his wrist with more **** than necessary and yanks him along.

She’s pissed.

I should probably care. But right now? I don’t.

Ariadne watches them leave, head tilted slightly, the smile curling up one corner of her mouth.

“Finally alone,” she says.

{endif}

I turn toward her, cheeks still warm. “Guess so.”

I glance at the crowd swallowing up Monica and Ryan. The guilt flickers—but it’s faint. I came here to get out of my head, not babysit anyone else’s feelings.

“She seems... protective,” Ariadne says lightly.

“She means well.” I swirl what’s left in my glass.

“But she doesn’t know when to let go?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve known her five seconds.”

“I’ve seen the dynamic before.” Ariadne’s voice stays soft, nonjudgmental. “She worries, you apologize. Over and over again. You shrink a little, and she gets to feel needed.”

Well damn... it hits too close to home.

I try to laugh, but it catches somewhere in my throat. “You psychoanalyzing me now?”

“No,” she says. “Just noticing.”

I don’t know why that feels... nice. Like I’m not being picked apart—just recognized.

A moment passes.

“You don’t strike me as someone who likes being boxed in,” Ariadne says.

“I guess I used to be worse.”

She nods slowly, eyes still on mine. “I figured as well. You’ve got that wild-in-hibernation look.”

I snort. “Is that supposed to be flattering?”

“It is,” she says, without missing a beat. “Some people never had it to begin with.”

I grin despite myself. She’s good at this. Whatever this is.

She leans her elbow on the bar, mirroring my posture. “What did you do before you got...tame?”

My smile fades a little. “Am I that obvious?”

“I read certain people well... you especially,” she says again.

I shrug. “Not much. Partied. Fucked the wrong guys. Thought about getting in a car and just driving until the gas ran out.”

Her expression softens, almost like she understands too much. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess I don’t really do that stuff anymore.”

“Why not?”

I glance up.

And she’s watching me so intently it makes my stomach turn over—like she’s not afraid of silence, not hurrying to fill the gaps. Just... waiting to hear what I’ll say.

“I got tired,” I admit. “And maybe scared of my own future. I don’t know.”

“You don’t seem scared now.”

I shake my head. “I fake it better than I used to.”

A pause. Then Ariadne reaches over—slowly, deliberately—and brushes her fingers against mine on the bar.

It’s so small. Barely a touch. But I feel it. The nerves under my skin light up. My heart kicks once, hard. I look down at her hand, then back up at her face. She’s still watching me in this... I don't know, inviting way?

“I think you should get a little tired of being tired,” she says.

I stare at her.

“What?”

“I mean you should try something that doesn’t have a plan or a warning label. Just for the hell of it.”

I open my mouth, then close it. My pulse won’t slow down.

She’s still touching me.

God. No woman’s ever looked at me or behaved around me like that. Just this... warm, slow confidence. Like I could say anything right now and she’d still want to know more.

“Is this your whole thing?” I ask, voice quieter. “You go around saying exactly what people want to hear?”

Ariadne smiles faintly. “Of course not. But I have good instincts.”

She tilts her head again, eyes gleaming just a little under the lights.

“I need a smoke. Care to join me?”

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

Monica and Ryan are still in the bathroom. I could wait... or I could say yes and go with her. It's just a smoke, right?

I meet her eyes.

“Okay, let's go,” I say.

And I follow her.