Page 79 of The Prime-Time Experiment

The sessions themselves had continued exactly as scheduled. Nothing had changed with the exercises, and the conversations largely followed the same rhythm they always had. What happened afterwards had become more difficult to account for.

The shift was gradual enough that Riley hadn’t recognised it immediately, conversations that continued longer than necessary, departures delayed by a few extra minutes. A growing awareness that the session rarely ended when the workout itself did.

Somewhere along the way, she had stopped viewing those moments as deviations from the structure and started anticipating them, enough that Riley stopped viewing each one as an isolated event and started recognising them as part of a developing pattern she enjoyed.

Neither of them attempted to define it. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in dissecting it, which was unusual and, perhaps because it was unusual, strangely comforting. Riley spent enough of her life translating experiences into frameworks and conclusions. Existing within something before fully understanding it should have felt uncomfortable.

Instead, she found herself looking forward to seeing him. The thought arrived without resistance now, no longer requiring immediate analysis or correction. It settled quietly inside her, warm rather than disruptive, and she allowed it to remain there.

“We’re meeting them there?” Dee asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. I refuse to arrive alone. That’s how people end up standing awkwardly near decorative plants pretending they’re checking their phone.”

Riley nodded once. That had been clearly established.

Dee pushed her door open and immediately let out an excited breath as the sounds from outside drifted in with the evening air. Halfway out of the car, she paused and leaned back in, her expression softening slightly.

“You ready?”

Riley knew what she was asking. The question wasn’t whether Riley knew what tonight would involve, it was whether she was willing and capable of stepping into it not knowing the environment.

Riley stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. “I am.”

Dee’s smile widened immediately. “Good,” she said. “Because I am about to make a very strong first impression.”

The moment they crossed the threshold; the space opened around them in a way Riley had not entirely anticipated.

The ceiling stretched high overhead, dark velvet draping the upper walls and absorbing much of the ambient light so that the room felt expansive without becoming harsh. Pools of warm, gold illumination gathered over the tables instead, drawing attention downward to crisp linen, polished glassware and the steady movement of people settling into conversations.

At the far end of the room, a stage had been constructed beneath carefully positioned lighting. A lectern stood at its centre, framed by large screens displaying sponsor logos and looping footage, creating a focal point that anchored the entire venue without dominating it.

What Riley noticed most, however, was the rhythm.

Hundreds of people occupied the space, yet very little of it felt chaotic. Waitstaff moved between tables with practised efficiency, conversations rose and fell in overlapping layers, and bursts of laughter surfaced often enough to give the room energy without disrupting its overall cadence. The environment was busy, but it possessed structure. Patterns emerged quickly once she stopped trying to process every individual element.

And then there were the people.

Riley’s attention shifted naturally toward them, recognising faces she knew from television segments, fundraising campaigns and community events. Some names surfaced immediately. Others hovered just beyond recall, familiar through repetition rather than direct interaction.

Riley paused just inside the entrance a fraction longer than the moment required, her attention moving rapidly across the room as her mind constructed order from the chaos instinctively. Entry points, exit routes. The density of movement of the crowd, the placement of tables and the bar.

The mapping occurred automatically, but the room was unfolding faster than she could fully organise it.

Light fractured unpredictably across polished glass and metallic surfaces. Conversations overlapped from every direction, voices rising and collapsing into one another before she could isolate individual threads. Laughter cut sharply through the music beneath it, sudden and abrasive enough to make something tighten beneath her skin.

Already, her nervous system was beginning to misfire under the strain of competing sensory input.

“This is insane,” Dee murmured beside her, eyes sweeping across the venue with open disbelief. “You didn’t tell me it was this level.”

“I did not have an appropriate comparative reference point,” Riley replied quietly.

The ringing in her ears had started already, faint but intrusive. “The environment contains high variability.”

Dee huffed a soft laugh. “You’re doing great, babe. Just don’t try to solve it.”

Riley gave a small nod, though her attention already shifted elsewhere. Because she found him. Declan stood across the room mid-conversation, one hand loosely curled around a glass, posture relaxed in the effortless way people spent years trying and failing to imitate. He had dressed appropriately for the event without looking manufactured by it.