RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 11: FRIDA -

Frida stepped through the club doors and immediately wanted to turn back.

The air inside was hot, heavy with sweat and perfume, and pulsing with the bass of music she didn't even like.

She felt every pair of eyes, whether real or imagined, crawling over her figure, which was wrapped in the red Oh Polly dress.

She was painfully self-conscious in the body-hugging outfit. It clung to her in ways that made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

Just a few days ago, she had stared at this very dress on her laptop, telling herself it was too daring, too bold something she'd never wear.

Yet here she was, wearing it, her friends dragging her into a space that felt entirely alien.

The press of bodies on the dance floor overwhelmed her senses. The air reeked of alcohol and sweat, and the chaotic swirl of movement made her dizzy.

This was not her scene. Frida shifted uncomfortably, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

She felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in as if they knew she didn't belong here.

Her social anxiety, always a quiet hum in the background, began to spike, making it hard to breathe.

Leah, however, was thriving. She was grinding shamelessly against a guy Frida vaguely recognized as Tyler.

He was socially awkward, not particularly handsome, and blushing a deep crimson as Leah rocked against him with wild abandon.

Frida couldn't help but smirk despite herself. Tyler was cute in a bumbling, flustered way, and she could see why Leah, with her chaotic energy, might find him irresistible.

But Frida wasn't here for this. She wasn't here for anything, really.

The night was already suffocating her, and she began inching toward the door, desperate for fresh air.

Just as her fingers brushed the handle, Leah grabbed her arm, pulling her back with surprising strength.

"Hell no," Leah said, her words slurring slightly. "You're not going anywhere. You're not going to be a prude forever."

Before Frida could protest, Leah tilted a shot glass against her lips, pouring fiery whiskey down her throat.

Frida spluttered, the alcohol burning all the way down, leaving her gasping for air.

Beer was enough to get her tipsy on a good day, but whiskey? It hit her like a freight train.

Within minutes, the room tilted, her inhibitions slipping away as a warm, dizzy giggle bubbled up from her chest.

"You're dead," Frida laughed, her voice high and breathless as leah pulled her back to the dance floor "I swear, Leah, I'm going to kill you later."

Her steps faltered as she moved toward the dance floor, swaying to the beat even though she was hopelessly off rhythm.

"I'll gladly die so you can live a little." Leah rolled her eyes.

The whiskey coursed through her veins like liquid courage, and she found herself spinning, her head light, her worries momentarily dulled.

Leah had disappeared, lost in a tangle of lips and limbs with Tyler, leaving Frida to dance on her own in the suffocating chaos.

Then she felt it, fingers curling around her arm. A soft soothing caress if that was possible in this crowd, so warm and yet hot.

He whispered in her ear "Relax..."

Her body did just that how did once voice make you vibrate.

Her knees felt weak leaning into his warmth "That's it...breath in..."

She did.

Taking in a lungful of air.

"Breath out..." He breath burned her skin and she arched.

In desperation she turned around, to see only a crowd of different faces in exotic dances.

Replaced with his soft heavenly touches by a grip which was firm but not forceful, and she blinking against the haze in her mind.

A man stood before her, his smile easy, his scent a heady mix of sweet cologne and aftershave.

He was not him...

How could she even feel that from someone's touch?

"Wanna dance, pretty one?" His voice was smooth, confident.

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Frida's stomach churned, the alcohol sloshing uncomfortably as nausea surged. She shook her head quickly, muttering, "Please excuse me," before pushing past him.

She didn't look back, her focus solely on reaching the bathroom before she lost the contents of her stomach.

She barely made it. The moment she reached the sink, she was throwing up, her body trembling as sweat beaded on her forehead.

Her breaths came shallow and quick, and she gripped the sink's edge, desperate for stability. The room spun around her, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that wouldn't settle.

The thoughts she'd been trying to push away crept back in. The notes. The intruder. The uneasy sense of being watched.

She had come here to forget, but it was impossible. Even in the chaos of the club, her mind refused to let her escape.

A soft, deliberate touch startled her. Someone was pulling her hair back from her face, their fingers brushing her neck with careful precision.

For a moment, she thought it was Leah again and relaxed in her touch, but the silence stretched too long.

Leah would have been laughing, teasing her mercilessly. This person said nothing, their presence quiet but unshakable.

Frida's breath hitched as she realized how close they were. She could feel them, their warmth, their weight, though it was barely there, just enough to make her heart race.

Her fingers gripped the sink tighter, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

The answer came not in words, but in a sensation a soft graze of lips against her ear. The touch sent a shiver cascading down her spine, leaving her breathless.

She bit her bottom lip, her knees threatening to buckle as his weight pressed against her, featherlight but unmistakable.

"Who do you want me to be ? " His voice was deeper than velvet, smooth and intoxicating, and it seeped into her like a drug.

Her head swam, her body reacting in ways she couldn't control.

The fear, the anxiety, the thrill they all blurred together, leaving her suspended in a moment that felt both surreal and dangerously real.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.

The air between them crackled, heavy with unspoken tension. Frida's mind screamed at her to turn around, to look at him, to demand answers but her body betrayed her, rooted in place as his presence enveloped her.

The thought he might disappear again... wasn't that a good thing though?...but she didn't want that. She wanted him right here behind her.

Her lips parted, but no words came. She was lost, adrift in the intoxicating storm he had created, and she didn't know if she wanted to find her way back.

"I can be him, if you want."