This is Mira’s story — part fiction, part reflection, wholly honest.
(Each chapter will end with a note from her writing, signed as your trusted friend.)
🎧 Listen while you read: “Koto” by CloZee
For sexy bass lines, shimmering glitch vibes, and a high priestess in a sequined jumpsuit.
Mira’s Story: Glitter, Beats, and Other Inappropriate Feelings
When disco meets denial and a Henley stirs something unsafe
Mira was halfway into a sequined jumpsuit when Rowan knocked on the closet door and said,
“Babe… is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” she called back, shimmying the fabric up over one hip.
The closet looked less like a place to store clothes and more like a boutique after a clearance sale gone wrong. Hangers leaned like they’d been through an earthquake, shoes balanced in teetering pyramids, and half-packed boxes sat in judgment, daring her to finish.
She stepped over a heap of sweaters and nudged one off the pile with her toe — the green sweater from one of their first dates. She bent to pick it up, fingers catching on the frayed cuff. She could almost imagine it still smelling like sunshine, the memory baked into the fabric.
The ache was unexpected. Packing up a life you loved, even for something you wanted, felt like wearing something you’d outgrown. Still beloved, but pulling in odd places.
Tonight wasn’t for grief or lists.
Tonight was for glitter.
Rowan’s voice floated through the door again. “You planning a fashion show in there, or should I be concerned?”
“It’s called style-induced procrastination,” she said, stepping out and tugging the jumpsuit over her shoulder.
He leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, half-smiling in that way that always confirmed she was the only one he had eyes for.
“Halley’s set,” she added, twirling toward him. “Full commitment to the bit. I don’t make the rules.”
“You and your bits,” he murmured, scanning her from head to toe. “You definitely make the rules.”
“Do I look like disco and outer space had a baby?”
“You look like you could be spotted from space,” he said, brushing a speck of glitter from her cheek.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Her phone buzzed—a FaceTime from Pepper. She answered to a faceful of freckles and nose.
“I need a fit check,” Pepper announced.
Rowan leaned into the frame. “We’re going to embarrass you vicariously, Pep.”
“Ohhh, Mom,” Pepper grinned. “I see you went with my recommendation. Now, let’s see Rowan and this so-called embarrassment.”
Mira swung the phone toward him. Black jeans, plain tee… until she threw a thrifted magician’s blazer over his shoulders.
Pepper’s giggle crackled through the speaker. “Oh. My. God. Glitter Dad. You’re officially one of us… wait, Papa’s in the ice cream. Gotta go. Bye, Mom, bye Glitter Daddy!”
Rowan’s mouth twitched. Mira caught it and grinned. “That’s canon now.”
“And this,” she said, holding up a tiny vial of shimmer spray, “is for your hair.”
He flinched. “You’re not spraying me.”
“I am. And while we’re on the subject…” Mira stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. “Are you growing it out?”
Rowan ran a hand through his hair. “I forgot to make an appointment.”
Mira’s pupils dilated. “Do it on purpose.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”
Halley swept in behind them, a rush of perfume and highlighter, grabbing her overnight bag. She clocked the moment instantly.
“Oh no,” she said. “She’s already picturing you with a man bun.”
Rowan groaned. Mira just grinned.
“I’ve said it before,” she whispered, eyes gleaming. “But God bless a man who can pull off a messy bun or an ironic mullet.”
Halley smirked. “You’re about six months from being her exact type. Alright, I’m off. Gotta get set up. Thanks for the glam assist, Mira.”
She air-kissed Mira, one hand hooked through her bag, the other gripping the handle of her DJ controller.
Mira watched her go, wondering if Halley knew how magnetic she was when she was in her element.
“Damn,” Rowan said as soon as Halley was out the door. “If I’d known that sooner, I’d have canceled haircuts months ago.”
He caught Mira by the waist and pulled her in until their noses almost touched. She laughed, bracing her hands against his chest, but didn’t immediately step back.
“Down, boy,” she murmured, not entirely opposed. “We don’t want to muss the glitter.”
The club was packed.
Lights pulsed. Bass thumped through Mira’s ribcage in a way that felt almost spiritual. Heat pressed from all sides, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and electricity. Rowan’s hand rested on her lower back, steadying her.
She paused mid-movement, letting the bodies blur and the lights flicker. It was ridiculous, loud, and entirely too much. But something about it felt holy.
Maybe it wasn’t the music. Maybe it was the wild, beautiful truth that she was here, glitter in her hair, love at her side, joy in full bloom.
This wasn’t the kind of night she used to let herself have. But she was learning to stay.
Halley was already on stage, headphones on, fingers flying across her setup like a witch summoning storms.
Mira whooped. “That’s my girl!”
Rowan leaned in. “You know she can’t hear you, right?”
“Doesn’t matter. She feels me.”
He rolled his eyes but tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as they navigated the crowd.
They made it to a raised corner table, Mira still glowing like a disco comet, Rowan brooding quietly beside her like an extremely hot bouncer. An extremely hot bouncer who had to lean so close his lips brushed against her ear to be heard over the bass.
She wasn’t complaining.
Mira was mid-sip of her glitter-rimmed cocktail when she felt a shift in the air.
Theo had just walked in.
Dark jeans. A slate-colored Henley hugging his arms in a way Mira could only describe as a personal attack.
Okay, Halley, she thought, I get it now.
He looked infuriatingly grounded for a man surrounded by strobes and sweat-slicked strangers. It was like he’d wandered into the wrong environment and somehow still become the most magnetic person in the room.
Rowan caught her staring and raised an eyebrow.
Mira shrugged. “What? I can acknowledge a well-fitted shirt.”
“I’m literally wearing glitter for you,” he muttered.
“And you look hot,” she whispered. “But that Henley is doing things.”
“I’ll grow my hair out and start journaling if that’s what it takes.”
“You’re already journaling,” she whispered. “You just call it ‘reflection.’”
From the DJ booth, Halley looked up and froze. Just for a second—but Mira saw it. The falter in her fingers, the quick intake of breath, the way her whole body seemed to recalibrate.
Theo caught her eye.
And smiled.
Not the cocky kind. The soft kind. The I know you kind.
Halley looked away immediately, burying herself in the next drop.
Mira gasped, elbowed Rowan, and whispered, “Oh my God. She likes him.”
Rowan leaned in. “You just figured this out?”
“I thought it was a flirt. A maybe. A vibe. But that look? That’s an actual feeling.”
Not long ago, Mira had resisted that very thing, being seen too clearly by someone who might not stay. Now she was watching her best friend step into that same light.
“I’m telling you nothing,” Rowan said. “I respect the privacy of emotionally intelligent men who wear soft shirts.”
“You knew.”
“I know everything,” he said.
Mira narrowed her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
She didn’t argue.
He shrugged, lips twitching. “Bro code.”
“Are you serious?”
He turned to her, deadpan. “Would you rather I broke the secret or honored the sacred trust of man friendship?”
“I would rather you texted me immediately so I could scream in emojis.”
Rowan grinned, smug. “And ruin the moment of discovery?”
Mira fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him in until their chests pressed together. Her lips found his; slow, deliberate, deep. Rowan’s hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, holding her there, pulling her closer. The noise of the club fell away until there was nothing but the thud of her heartbeat in her ears and the heat of his mouth on hers. She moaned against him, the sound swallowed between them.
The club started thinning out around 1:30, but Mira wasn’t ready to leave.
She was still glowing from the inside out on part adrenaline, part glitter-infused cocktail, part whatever quiet joy came from watching Halley absolutely crush it behind the booth while pretending not to make heart-eyes at Theo every 4.5 seconds.
Eventually, the crew ended up at a diner that probably hadn’t updated its decor since 1994. The kind of place where everything smelled like fryer grease and cigarette smoke. It felt perfect.
They squeezed into a cracked vinyl booth: Mira, Rowan, Halley, and Theo. Four glitter-smeared, sweaty, grown-ups passing around three baskets of fries like communion wafers.
Mira dipped hers in three sauces at once. “Do you think we’ve peaked?”
Halley leaned across Theo and stole a fry without asking. “This is the peak. Glitter. Grease. Secret emotional tension. It’s all downhill from here.”
Theo grinned like he’d been waiting all night for her to talk to him. “I find it hard to believe you’d ever peak.”
Her eyes lit, mouth curving slow. “Age like fine wine, then?”
He leaned in until his knee brushed hers under the table. “More like the kind of trouble you never want to grow out of.”
Halley didn’t look away. She bit the fry in half, lips quirking as if she’d just accepted a dare. “Careful, Theo. Trouble’s my specialty.”
“That’s why I’m still sitting here,” he said, voice pitched just for her.
The hum of conversation kept on around them, but they’d locked into each other’s orbit, shoulders angling closer, heads tipped in. They’d tuned each other like they’d found a private frequency.
Mira caught the shift, the click, the thing she’d been hoping for Halley without even realizing it. She felt a smile tug at her lips before she could stop it. And when she glanced at Rowan, he was already watching too.
Mira leaned in and whispered, “Are you assessing the fit?”
“Absolutely.”
Mira grinned conspirataly. “Good,” she murmured. “I hope it fits.”
Ten minutes later, Mira poked Halley’s arm.
“I have to pee and I don’t trust my knees in this outfit.”
“On it.”
The women made their way to the worst bathroom in Oregon, located past the kitchen and behind a door that creaked like a horror movie soundtrack.
It was painted green. Not a cute, intentional green, but more like the color of regret. There was graffiti on the walls, a toilet missing its seat, and a hand dryer that coughed like it had asthma.
Mira surveyed the space and groaned. “This is going to be an athletic event.”
Halley rolled her eyes. “Come on, sparkle queen. I’ve seen you in heels at a forest wedding. We can do this.”
She pulled Mira into a precarious hover-squat position, arms around her midsection for balance like a deeply unsexy trust fall.
“This is friendship,” Mira muttered. “This exact moment.”
Halley snorted. “If you fall, I’m not catching you. I’m protecting the boots.”
“I respect that.”
After Mira finished (successfully, though not gracefully), she leaned against the graffiti-covered wall and took a breath.
“You gonna tell me?” she asked.
Halley didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I like him. And that’s… complicated. I usually want the ones I can outrun. Theo’s… steady. I think he actually sees me.”
Mira waited.
Halley sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s obviously not.”
“He’s not loud, or messy, or dramatic… Theo is stable. I don’t feel like I’m allowed to want that.”
Mira was quiet for a second. Then said softly, “It’s terrifying.”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s also real. And you get to decide if you’re ready. Just… try not to sprint back into that hallway of cracked doors you’re always telling me about. A wise woman once told me not to let the old story talk me out of a new one before it’s even started.”
Halley pressed her lips together like she was holding something in, then tilted her head with a slow, knowing smile. “She sounds absolutely brilliant.”
They sat in companionable silence, letting the words settle between them, the buzz of the flickering light above the only sound.
Then Mira grinned. “He wears soft shirts, has nice biceps, and he’s a therapist. You’re absolutely screwed.”
Halley groaned.
Back at the booth, Theo and Rowan were deep in some quiet conversation about flooring materials and modular cabin design.
Halley sat back down, cool as ever. Mira plopped beside her.
“You okay?” Theo asked, eyes flicking to Halley.
She nodded. “Just supporting a friend through an emotionally complex bathroom situation.”
He smirked. “Sounds intimate.”
Halley reached across the table, stole another fry, and looked at him dead in the eye.
“You have no idea.”
Mira smiled into her drink, that familiar flicker in her chest again. She remembered when she was the one who flinched at the thought of being seen too clearly, who mistook steadiness for danger. Watching Halley now felt like holding a mirror to an earlier version of herself, proof that some risks are worth staying for.
When she glanced up, Rowan was watching her, not Halley, not Theo, her. His mouth curved just slightly, like he understood exactly what was running through her head without her needing to say it. His hand found its way to her inner thigh, squeezing gently but firmly.
Mira didn’t say it out loud, but she was already ranking first dance songs and texting Halley’s future maid of honor in her head.
Letters from The Clever Confidante: “The Closet and the To-Do List”
(aka Denial in Sequin Form)
Avoiding hard things, one list at a time
What I Did Instead of Processing My Life
(a totally necessary and extremely practical to-do list)
- Organize my pens by mood.
(Blue = introspective. Red = regrets. Glitter = delusion.) - Make a spreadsheet of every song that’s ever made me feel like the main character.
Accidentally cried during track #7. Suspiciously emo for a playlist titled “empowered.” - Texted Halley to ask if I should keep the top I haven’t worn in two years.
She said yes. I no longer trust her. - Put on lipstick to clean the kitchen.
Obviously didn’t clean the kitchen. Just looked devastating in the reflection of the microwave. - Spent 35 minutes trying to fold a fitted sheet like a functioning adult.
Ended with it balled up in a rage-puff and hidden behind the towels. Victory unclear. - Created a Pinterest board called “Closet Clarity” and immediately added 14 velvet couches.
None of this helps, but it felt rich in vision. - Picked up the same bra five times and refused to admit why it makes me sad.
(Spoiler: It’s not about the bra.) - Cleaned half a drawer, found a love letter from 2019, shut the drawer, lit sage.
Emotionally exorcised, but also now the room smells like regret and lavender. - Moved every item of clothing I don’t want to deal with into a “maybe” pile.
The pile now weighs more than my child. - Stared at the closet like it personally betrayed me.
Whispered, “I just need a minute,” and walked out like we were in a fight. - Drank lemon water like it would hydrate away my emotional baggage.
- Reorganized my crystal shelf. Accidentally created a grid that may summon an ex.
Leaving it. For science. - Wrote this list instead of facing anything real.
But somehow… feel a little more ready now.
Your Turn, Babe:
Make your own emotionally avoidant to-do list.
Get honest. Get weird.
And if you do happen to open your closet…
Let that be an act of power, not pressure.
Report back. I’ll be here, romanticizing my own avoidance and sipping tea.
☁️ New here? You can start Mira’s Story from the beginning with Chapter Zero.
➡️✨ Continue Mira’s Story with Chapter Fifty-Three: Kale, Crumbs, and the Space Between
✨ Want more love notes like this? Subscribe, stay close, and let’s keep growing in the quiet spaces together.
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