As Dakota’s voice soared over the driving bassline, Leo felt the floor tilt.

When the beat dropped, Maya didn't wave or walk toward him. She just closed her eyes and danced, her silhouette a sharp contrast against the strobes. She was moving to the rhythm of a plan they never finished, a dream that had been retooled for a faster world.

The neon sign above the "Blue Lagoon" flickered in time with the kick drum. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and expensive cologne.