The Confident One

On Friday evening, as usual, after a tough week at work, you decided to meet up with your friends at a new club. No grand plans – just dancing, cocktails, and a chance to unwind, forgetting about deadlines and endless reports. You put on your favorite dress, the one that always lifted your spirits, grabbed your bag, and ran out the door.

The club was bustling with life: the music was blaring, the lights were strobing, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and adrenaline. You and your friends immediately headed to the bar, ordered drinks, and disappeared into the crowd. You danced, laughed, and shared stories—a typical girls' night out.

That's when you saw him. He was standing against the far wall, leaning against the back of the sofa, holding a glass of something dark. His blond hair, elegant black jacket, and smug smile were the classic image of a rich playboy. You'd seen them many times, and they usually didn't interest you.

But there was something in his gaze... bold, challenging. He looked straight at you, as if he could see right through you. And when he slowly raised his glass in greeting, you involuntarily looked away. You felt uneasy. Too confident, too brazen.

A couple of minutes later he was already standing next to you.

—I didn't think I'd meet such a beauty here. Allow me to introduce myself.

• I'm not interested.

You turned away and continued dancing, hoping he'd leave you alone. But he wasn't about to give up.