Entropy in High Heels

Entropy in High Heels
Moments later, she reached for her champagne with a sly smile—and just like that, the mood shifted, soft and playful, as the night took a lighter turn.

William poured her another glass with a raised brow. “You sure about this? You’ve already had two.”

“I just fought a design war and won it. Don’t I deserve to celebrate like a queen?” she asked, swirling the glass with unnecessary flair.

“You already act like one,” he muttered.

“And you love it,” she shot back, raising the glass in a toast. “To Lumina—who no one saw coming.”

He clinked his glass against hers. “To Lumina. And to the chaos she brings.”

The first few sips were classy. They sat close, teasing each other about the jury, the expressions on Evelyn’s face, and how William looked like he was going to jump across the table when Marc praised Skylar’s designs.

“You know,” she said, slightly slurring already, “Marc called me brilliant... and radiant... and drop-dead talented. But someone just said I act like a queen.”

“I was being generous,” William replied with a grin. “You act like a spoiled empress.”

She gasped, hand to her chest. “How dare you? I’m adorable. Everyone says so.”

“Everyone drunk says so.”

“I’m not drunk,” she declared proudly, then missed her mouth and spilled a little champagne down her chin. “Okay maybe just... a little festive.”

He handed her a napkin, trying not to laugh. “A little festive is how toddlers act on too much sugar. You’re a full-blown disaster.”

Skylar stuck her tongue out. “You’re just scared I’ll start revealing your secrets.”

William leaned back. “Oh? Like what?”

She leaned forward dramatically. “Like how you hum old romantic songs in the shower. Or how you once—once!—cried during a dog food commercial.”

“That commercial had a plot,” he defended. “Don’t start.”

Skylar giggled uncontrollably. Her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she kept getting distracted by the bubbles in her drink. “Have you ever noticed,” she whispered, as if sharing a scandalous secret, “that champagne sounds like gossip in a glass?”

William blinked. “What?”

“Like tiny whispers—shhh shhh shhh—all telling stories.”

He stared at her for a second. “Okay. No more champagne for you.”

“I want a refill,” she said, holding up her glass like royalty.

“Denied.”

“Rude.”

“You’re done.”

She pouted, then flopped sideways onto the couch, resting her head on his lap. “William... you remember that red dress I wore to that Nelson party?”

“Vividly.”

“I hated it. I wore it just to make you jealous. You didn’t even look.”

“I looked,” he admitted, brushing her hair back. “I just didn’t let you see it.”

“That’s mean,” she murmured, eyes fluttering. “You’re very mean sometimes. But also pretty. Why are you so pretty? You should share some of the pretty.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m poetic.”

“You’re definitely drunk.”

“You’re judging me because I’m in my artistic phase.”

He sighed with a helpless smile. “Skylar—”

She suddenly sat up, nearly headbutting him. “Let’s go for ice cream. Or french fries. Or maybe... I want to swim.”

“We are not swimming at midnight.”

“Then carry me to the moon,” she declared, arms wide. “It’s my reward for surviving today.”

William laughed despite himself. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know I’m cute.” She hiccuped, then giggled at her own hiccup.

And with that, her chaos was officially unleashed.

“I want... ice cream!” she nagged stubbornly, pointing at the moon as if it was her last lifeline.

William blinked. “Skylar, that’s not even—”

“I said ice cream, Mr. Husband!” she pouted, crossing her arms and wobbling slightly. “Or else I’m divorcing you. Right now.”

“You can’t even find the door, but you want a lawyer?” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated.

“I’ll find one!” she spun in a slow circle and nearly collided with the table. “I’m... resourceful!”

William caught her arm just in time. “Okay, okay, you’ve had enough.”

She gasped dramatically. “Are you calling me drunk?”

He sighed. “I’m calling you absolutely hammered, sweetheart.”

With puppy eyes, she tried to reach for another drink, but he quickly moved it out of reach. “Nope.”

“William!” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You’ve said that five times. While yelling at a flower pot.”

Skylar giggled, then suddenly clung to him, looking up with a mischievous grin. “I want to drive the car.”

He nearly choked. “Absolutely not. You can’t even walk straight!”

“But I’ll go slow!” she promised sweetly. “Just like... a turtle.”

He facepalmed. “That’s not comforting.”

Trying to coax her out was like negotiating with a very pretty, very stubborn jellyfish. She flopped onto the couch, then leapt up demanding a balloon. Next, she wanted to ride a luggage trolley like a chariot.

“I’m not pulling you like some royal horse,” he gritted.

“But you’re my knight!” she protested with wide eyes.

In the end, William had no choice. With a groan, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of sugar.

“Aaaaaaah! William put me down!” she shrieked, giggling as she thumped her fists against his back. “This is kidnapping! I’m being abducted by a hot CEO!”

“You’re lucky I’m carrying you and not filing for mental trauma,” he muttered.

“Your muscles feel nice,” she slurred, poking his back. “Why don’t you walk shirtless more often?”

He bit down a laugh as he finally reached the car. She was still babbling nonsense, twisting in his grip, laughing uncontrollably.

By the time he buckled her in, she slumped against the seat with a dreamy sigh. “You smell like success... and betrayal. But mostly success.”

William shook his head with a helpless smile. “God save me.”

Then he drove them home—his hands on the wheel, her chaos in the passenger seat, and an unforgettable night tucked into the folds of their strange, beautiful story.

The ride home was blessedly quiet—mostly because Skylar had curled up like a cat in the passenger seat, mumbling nonsense in between soft snores. William peeked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick smudged, and her fingers still clutched the empty champagne glass she refused to let go of until she dozed off.

But as soon as he pulled into the villa's parking space and killed the engine, her eyes popped open.

"This car..." she murmured groggily, blinking at the dashboard with wonder. "I love this car. I want to drive it. Right now.”

She pouted.

With a tired sigh, William unbuckled her seatbelt. “Let’s get you inside before you decide to do cartwheels on the roof.”

He stepped out and walked around the car, unlocking her side and opening the passenger door.

But by the time he got there—she was gone.

His brows snapped together.

He looked up—

And found her sprawled across the center console, halfway into the driver’s seat, limbs flailing like a drunken ballerina.

“I love this seat,” she declared proudly, gripping the steering wheel with a sloppy grin. “It makes me feel... important.”

William groaned, dragged a hand down his face, and muttered under his breath, “Thank God I locked it and the damn key’s in my pocket.”

He circled around the car like a defeated bodyguard. “Out. Now.”

She gave him a defiant glare through the window, then smacked her palm on the horn, making him jolt.

"Don’t test me, woman,” he warned, opening the driver’s door.

Before she could cause more mayhem, he leaned in, unbuckled her, and in one swift move, scooped her into his arms.

“Wha—HEY!” she shrieked, thrashing. “Unhand me, you overgrown beast! I wanted ice cream!”

“In your dreams,” he said through clenched teeth, already climbing the villa steps.

Skylar pointed upward. “It was there! I swear, the ice cream... was in the sky!”

He followed her gaze, only to see her confused expression when she noticed the chandelier overhead instead of stars.

“Oh no... where's my moon?” she asked with a pout.

William huffed. “Gone. Just like your sanity.”

She wriggled again, shouting, “You monster! Let me go!”

“Keep screaming and I swear I’ll duct tape your mouth,” he muttered, stepping into the bedroom.

He set her down as gently as he could, but before he could breathe, she clamped her teeth onto his hand.

“OW! You bit me!”

“That’s for yelling at me, you meanie!” she snapped, and before he could react, she bolted.

“SKYLAR!”

She giggled and darted around the room like a toddler on espresso, avoiding his every move. William gave chase, but she was surprisingly fast for someone with zero coordination.

She spun around the bed, hands flailing, then suddenly paused. Her eyes sparkled—dangerously.

“No. Don’t even think about—” William warned.

She sprinted for the bathroom.

“God damn it,” he muttered, and ran after her.

Just as she reached for the door, he caught up. She spun to face him, stumbled, and grabbed the faucet on the wall for balance—except, it wasn’t the faucet. It was the shower switch.

Click.

The sudden downpour hit them both like a bucket of ice.

“WHAT THE—” she gasped, flinching as the cold water soaked her through. William slammed into the wall beside her, one hand instinctively braced against the tile to keep them both steady.