Neon Entanglements III

She tasted like the night – electric, untamed, a static charge against my skin.

A cigarette dangled between her fingers, smoke curling like whispered secrets in the glow of the skyline. Lips slick with something dark, something dangerous, she smirked like she knew all the endings, every last one, and none of them worked out in my favor.

“You coming?” she purred, her voice dripping in late-night promises that never see the morning.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve turned back. Should’ve known better.

Instead, I watched the neon trace the curve of her collarbone, the sharp angles of her smirk, the way the city seemed to bend around her like it owed her something.

She turned, walking into the violet haze, hips swaying to a rhythm I’d been trying to resist all damn night.

I followed. Of course I did.