And then—
The music cuts out, and the tone abruptly shifts.
A loud, upbeat anthem blasts through the speakers, jolting everyone back to reality. The crowd erupts into cheers.
“Here they are!” Miles shouts from somewhere behind us.
Within seconds, Beaumont crashes into Baptiste’s side, Adler grabs my hand, and the entire group swarms around us. The dance floor turns from a gentle breeze into a hurricane—arms raised high, people jumping off-beat, someone attempting a spin that nearly takes out a waiter.
Baptiste laughs, stepping back, but his hand lingers on my waist just a second longer than necessary before finally letting go.
The moment dissolves into noise and flashing lights.
But my skin still tingles where he touched me.
And beneath the thrum of the music, my stomach churns as reality dawns on me. I’m in way more trouble than I thought.
“I’m stuffed,” Marissa says, leaning back in her chair with a sigh.
“Same,” Grace adds with a yawn.
“Actually, I could go for some dessert.” Maxime says through a chuckle.
“You already did,” Caleb notes. “Twice.”
Maxime groans. “Stop monitoring what I eat, man. Besides, I meant more like a light snack.”
“Oh yeah.” Baptiste nods. “Like ice cream. Always space for that.”
“Yes!” I exclaim louder than intended, and everyone laughs.
“You’re our friend now, Harper,” James replies with a grin. “But I won’t spend hours wandering around looking for ice cream for you again. Learned my lesson at the festival.”
“I didn’t even get a single scoop,” I groan. And I’m still craving it.
“That’s true,” Aria says. “But it’s never too late.”
“You guys are crazy,” Aaron says, patting his stomach. “I can’t eat another thing.”
“I’ll take you to get ice cream,” Baptiste whispers, leaning closer. My arm erupts in goosebumps.
We keep chatting—some of us yawning—before we eventually decide to call it a night. We walk back to the lobby, where we say our goodbyes.
“So, is anyone coming for ice cream?” Maxime asks the group.
A chorus of firm “no” and “no way” ripples around the group.
“Oh, come on. A little digestive walk would do us good,” he presses.
“Yeah, just so we can fill ourselves with more sugar,” Marissa says, arching an eyebrow. “Makes perfect sense.”
“Looks like it’s just us, then,” he says, glancing between Hayley, Baptiste, and me.
“Actually, you guys go without me,” Hayley says. “After all that dancing, I’m beat, and I definitely can’t stomach another bite. But seriously, you go. I don’t mind.”
“Absolutely not,” Maxime says, wrapping an arm around his wife. “I’m staying with you.” He nods to us. “You guys go. There’s always the mini bar.”
We all say goodnight, and soon enough, it’s only Baptiste and me left in the lobby.
