Zara clinked her tray lightly against Olivia’s raised glass, grin flashing in the low light. “To dodging boring company—may we always be so lucky.” She tilted her head toward the bar, where the talkative blonde was already in full swing with his new audience, hands flapping as though the story needed choreography. “See? Like a shark. Always circling, never quiet. Give it ten minutes and he’ll be on about the turtle again, only this time with sound effects.”
She leaned a hip against the edge of Olivia’s table, lowering her voice. “Smart move, though. Free drink without the sermon? That’s the dream. You’ve cracked the system.” A quick wink followed before she straightened, adjusting her tray with a practiced ease. “Next round’s on me, habibti. Consider it hazard pay for surviving Club Eden on a Friday.”
Before Olivia could answer, a bartender waved Zara over with a shout about an order gone missing. She sighed, rolling her eyes in mock despair. “See?" she teased, slipping away into the crowd.
A few minutes later, Zara reappeared at Olivia’s table, tray now balanced on one hand with a neat precision. She set it down on the empty chair, sliding into the seat opposite with a grin that looked far too pleased for someone clocked in. “Good news—my break just started. So unless you were waiting on another turtle story, you’re stuck with me instead.”
Smart move, Zara had called it. Olivia’s lips quirked. It hadn’t been strategy, just instinct. A survival reflex, learned in boardrooms and gallery openings: spot the talkers, the energy vampires, and slip sideways before they locked on. The free drink was incidental. The real prize was the quiet. The space to think. Club Eden was paradoxically peaceful when you knew how to fold yourself into its margins.
Her gaze drifted to the dance floor. Bodies moved in a liquid, hypnotic sway, shadows cut by strobing lights. Then drifted back to the bar. The blonde guy was indeed miming something now… arms wide, mouth forming an exaggerated O. The turtle story. She suppressed a sigh. Zara was right. Predictable. Liv couldn’t help but laugh.
Zara reappeared like magic, sliding into the chair opposite her. Liv’s shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly. There was a warmth to Zara, a contained wildfire. Safe, somehow. Familiar. The kind that just made you feel comfortable. "Break? Since when does Eden grant mercy? But I’m not complaining. Definitely a much better company than Mr. Turtle over there. But hey, at least your job never gets boring, does it?”
















