Dickson stared at Liam like he had just stepped out of an alternate reality. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked Liam up and down, scanning the familiar yet suddenly foreign sight in front of him. Liam? This wasn’t the sa guy he knew. The Liam standing in front of him now was a stranger—a different Liam. Did he just say ’fun’?
It was a strange, almost out-of-place word coming from soone like Liam, who was usually so laser-focused, driven, and in tune with every situation. The vibe Liam gave off now seed lighter, looser... almost too carefree. Dickson blinked a few tis, trying to process the shift in atmosphere.
The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Dickson could feel the awkwardness beginning to settle in, so he cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "So, uh, what do you wanna do?" he asked, his tone a little unsure. It felt like a question he hadn’t expected to ask.
Liam didn’t respond imdiately, his gaze turning inward as if he was thinking, his eyes narrowing in quiet contemplation. Then, as though snapping out of so trance, he shrugged, rolling his shoulders back. "I don’t know. You decide."
Dickson blinked again, but this ti with a smirk on his lips. You decide? It was a strange turn of events. Liam, who had been so deliberate in every action up until now, was throwing the ball into his court. Normally, this would’ve been the last thing Liam would do. It wasn’t like him to let go of control. He rubbed his hands together, then stood up from his chair and clicked off his computer, his eyes gleaming with excitent.
"You’re going to regret giving this much power," Dickson said, his grin widening.
Liam raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Dickson. "What are you planning, Dickhead?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, unsure of whether to be suspicious or amused.
Dickson’s shrug was nonchalant, but the gleam in his eyes said it all. "Nothing... Just partying, drinking, and girls."
Liam’s eyes widened. That? Right now? "That now?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.
But Dickson just shook his head, chuckling at Liam’s reaction. "Of course not. We have to wait until evening. In the anti, we’ll prepare. You can’t just show up at a party like this without proper... attire."
Liam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Prepare?"
"Yep." Dickson stood up, adjusting his sleeves and heading for the door, gesturing for Liam to follow him. "Let’s go shopping."
---
The day passed in a blur of stores, fittings, and conversations. It wasn’t the kind of shopping Liam was used to—the casual, mindless browsing for the occasional shirt or jeans. No, this was a different beast entirely. Dickson had a taste for the finer things, and Liam found himself swept up in the chaos of it all.
They spent hours trying on clothes, Dickson guiding him toward leather jackets and black trousers that hugged every curve of his muscles, making him look like soone who belonged on a runway rather than at a party. They picked out sleek sneakers with a subtle shine, and even though Liam tried on a pair of eyeglasses like the ones Dickson had chosen, he quickly discarded them. I prefer seeing with my own eyes.
By the ti they were done, both of them were dressed to impress—Liam in the black leather jacket, his hair falling ssily but stylishly around his face, and Dickson in his own set of designer clothes. His dark glasses gave him an air of mystery, making him look like he belonged in the upper echelons of society, the kind of man who wasn’t phased by anything, and everything was always within reach.
Once they were all set, Dickson led the way to his car. He was practically bouncing with excitent, his anticipation palpable as he drove through the city streets toward their destination. Liam’s eyes flickered with curiosity. He had never been to a party like the one Dickson was about to take him to. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
---
When they finally arrived, Liam couldn’t help but be stunned by the sheer opulence of the place. It wasn’t the biggest building, but it oozed wealth from every corner. It had an almost surreal quality, the kind of place you only saw in movies—ornate gates, manicured lawns, and a building that seed to shimr in the dimming light of the afternoon. This is not a normal party venue.
Dickson pulled up in front of the entrance, throwing his keys to an attendant before walking confidently toward the door. The valet gave them a nod, already recognizing Dickson, but Liam’s eyes were glued to the grand entrance. He had never seen a place like this before. The entire building felt like it belonged in a different world, a world that was as distant as the stars.
As they walked inside, Dickson leaned in close, his voice filled with pride. "This place has everything, Liam," he said, his tone low, almost secretive. "Strippers, celebrities, artists. It’s all here. Whatever you want, whatever you need, it’s at your fingertips. No limits."
Liam was still processing the overwhelming size of the place, his eyes scanning the crowd of people mingling around the lavish setting. It wasn’t hard to tell that this was no ordinary party. The guests weren’t the type to go out for a few drinks at a local bar. These were the elite. The ones with power, influence, and money to burn.
His gaze shifted to Dickson, who had a look on his face that scread excitent. The man couldn’t wait to dive into whatever chaos awaited them inside, and Liam couldn’t help but find himself amused, if not a little intrigued. Was this what he had been missing all these years?
He walked in alongside Dickson, the overwhelming energy of the place crashing into him. Liam had never been to a party before. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about going to one. Yet, for so reason, he found himself swept into the current, following Dickson without question.
The music inside the grand hall hit like a tidal wave—deep, pulsing bass that rattled through the marble floors and thudded in their chests. Neon lights washed over the crowd, casting flashes of blue, pink, and gold across the sea of bodies moving in rhythm. The scent of expensive perfu and sweat lingered in the air, mixing with the distant whiff of alcohol and sothing faintly floral from the decorative fog that hissed from the floor vents.
Liam barely had a second to take it all in before Dickson ca to a full stop, eyes locked on a vision in motion.
She was dancing alone, right near the center of the crowd—a goddess in a short, glittering silver dress that shimred under every pulse of light. Her hips moved with a rhythm that seed to control the beat itself. Her long curls bounced around her shoulders as she spun slowly in place, lost in her own world. She was tall, with legs for days, and the confidence in the way she moved made her magnetic.
Dickson, predictably, was already halfway across the room before Liam could blink.
"Fucking hell," Liam muttered, watching as his friend weaved through the crowd like a man on a mission.
Dickson reached the girl and didn’t hesitate—he matched her rhythm instantly, stepping in with an exaggerated sway of his hips and throwing in a little shoulder pop for effect. He leaned in, close enough to talk, but not so close that it ca off aggressive. She looked at him, arched a brow, and kept dancing.
Liam couldn’t hear the conversation—too much noise, too much bass—but he could read the body language like subtitles on a screen. Dickson was talking—gesturing with his hands, giving one of his cocky grins. She nodded at first, politely. Then she tilted her head, her smile thinning. Her eyes flicked over him from head to toe, then she let out the smallest eye-roll Liam had ever seen.
And just like that, she turned.
She didn’t just walk away—she glided, still dancing as she slipped away from Dickson without so much as a word. Like he was just air. A minor speed bump in her perfect evening.
Liam nearly doubled over, laughing silently to himself as he watched it unfold. His shoulders shook, hands on his hips. He couldn’t hear anything, but the visual was enough. The rejection was brutal—flawless even. And Dickson just stood there, stunned, staring after her like soone had unplugged his soul.
A mont later, Dickson stomped back through the crowd, face thunderous, sunglasses slightly crooked, mouth tight in a line.
"Fuck that bitch, bro!!" he snapped as soon as he was close enough to be heard. "I wasn’t even started yet!!"
Liam burst out laughing this ti, throwing his head back. "I an," he shouted over the music, "can you really bla her? Every human has their limit to your bullshit, and I think you just hit hers in under ten seconds!"
Dickson looked wounded. "She doesn’t even know , man! I was gonna show her the charm. The real stuff!"
Liam wiped at his eyes, still grinning. "Yeah, she saved herself the long death. You owe her a thank-you."
The two of them stood close, the crowd pulsing around them, heat radiating from all sides as the music surged to another drop. The DJ’s voice crackled in the background, hyping the crowd with unintelligible words. It didn’t matter. The energy was electric.
Dickson crossed his arms, glancing sideways at Liam with narrowed eyes. "It’s not like you’re doing any better, bro. You’ve just been standing here like a confused NPC."
Liam smirked and leaned closer, voice loud but smooth. "Look around and concentrate, Dickhead."
Dickson squinted through the flashing lights and started scanning the room. Slowly. He turned his head one way, then the other. And then, like dominos, his eyes locked onto one girl, then another, then another—each one stealing a glance at Liam. So tried to be subtle, ducking their heads or adjusting their hair. Others weren’t shy at all—blushing outright when their eyes t his. One girl even bit her lip. Hard.
"...One, two, three, four..." Dickson started counting under his breath.
"Seven," Liam finished, his smirk widening.
Dickson’s mouth dropped open.
Liam extended a hand toward him, taking a slow step back, eyes twinkling under the lights. His voice dropped into a smooth, cocky drawl. "I don’t need to flirt with them," he said, tilting his head. " being here is enough flirting."
And with that, he turned.
He backed into the crowd slowly, disappearing with ease into the sea of bodies. Heads turned as he passed—girls nudged their friends, whispering and giggling. One of them reached for his arm, but he just smiled, weaving deeper into the party like it was his kingdom and he’d just arrived to claim it.
Dickson stared after him, deadpan. "This motherfucker..." he muttered to himself.
But even as he shook his head, a reluctant grin tugged at the edge of his lips.
****
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