I pushed my way toward the living room, drawn by the bursts of laughter rising around the coffee table.
The string lights hanging along the walls cast shifting ripples of color, turning the room into a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows.
The bass thudded so hard it felt like it was pounding against my temples, yet beneath all the chaos, a strange calm began to settle inside me.
Not peace… more like a muted vigilance, as if my entire body were slipping into alert mode.
And then I saw her.
Serena.
She spotted me almost instantly, and my stomach twisted on instinct.
She slipped through the crowd with slow, confident grace, her hips swaying with theatrical assurance in a soft beige-white romper sprinkled with floral patterns that reminded me of summer.
Everything about her radiated provocation.
She wore that sharp, perfectly calculated smile—the one she wielded like a weapon.
"So, you're the famous Avery?" she said, her voice sweet, though edged with poison.
"Calvin talks about you… a lot."
Feigning ignorance.
Her eyes dragged over me from head to toe, barely bothering to hide the contempt.
I took the blow in silence.
My instinct screamed to fire back, to return her smile like an arrow—but instead, I simply nodded, pretending at neutrality I didn't feel.
Every word that left her mouth vibrated with a sick kind of curiosity, almost a challenge.
She examined me the way someone studies a crack in glass, waiting for the moment it shatters.
But I wasn't about to give her that satisfaction.
"So what do you want, Serena?" Claire cut in, suddenly appearing behind me like an unexpected shield.
"Nothing I can't get," Serena replied, flashing a smug, satisfied smirk.
"Just confirmed a few things."
"Then you can go," Claire shot back, her politeness freezing into steel.
For a moment, silence weighed heavy.
Serena looked us over one last time, her eyes glittering with contempt.
Then she spun around, her hair snapping behind her like a victory flag.
"I hate that witch," Claire muttered with a sigh.
"Same," I breathed.
She shook her head, exasperated.
"How did Calvin end up with someone like that?"
"A mystery," I murmured.
Yet my thoughts lingered on Calvin.
He was this strange blend—a deeply kind heart, a disarming generosity, but also that charming streak that sometimes ran ahead of him.
Intuitive, attentive to others… and yet he'd chosen to keep people as toxic as Derrick and Serena in his orbit.
How could two worlds so opposite pull toward each other?
Maybe popularity had its own kind of magic—one that bent truth and blurred logic.
The night regained its lighter rhythm.
Laughter, ridiculous games, lively conversations filled the room once more.
The tension Serena had left behind slowly dissolved.
Jackson arrived with a few friends, and his gaze caught mine.
Something taut settled between us—old memories, uneasy silences, promises left hanging.
"Remember when Avery almost spilled the punch in the school gym?" Claire said brightly, trying to break the tension.
A ripple of laughter spread through the group.
I mustered a smile, but a cold shiver crept along my neck.
That same feeling… a presence.
From the street, from the moment I arrived, I had felt it.
Someone—or something—had been following me, hiding in the shadow of every step.
Each time I scanned the room, I found nothing.
Just the party—its noise, its dancing shadows.
But the sensation lingered.
Calvin approached, cutting through my unease.
He set a drink on the table, close enough that I caught the familiar scent of him.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, this time his voice lower, almost worried.
There was a disarming sincerity in his eyes.
A flicker of warmth rushed through me, clashing sharply with the cold that had gripped me seconds earlier.
I gave him a small, crooked smile.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."
He hesitated, like he wanted to insist, but behind him, Serena had already noticed us.
Her brows knit together just slightly, and her dark stare slid over me with barely restrained hostility.
Claire nudged me with her elbow, amused.
"Don't worry about her," she whispered. "She lives for drama."
I nodded, though the spark of rivalry that crackled across the room left a bitter taste on my tongue.
The night carried on—voices rising, secrets whispered, laughter echoing.
Little by little, I felt myself lowering almost all my defenses.
I laughed.
I talked.
For the briefest moment, I rediscovered a version of myself I thought long gone.
And yet… every time I turned around, every time my eyes lingered on some corner of the room, the sensation of being watched returned—insistent, relentless.
It was close to midnight when the party reached its peak.
Laughter had erupted into drunken shouts, the bass shaking the walls like a giant heartbeat.
I slipped away, craving air.
I stepped outside to escape the crowd.
Stopping on the porch, alone, I inhaled deeply.
The night air—cold and damp—brushed against my face like relief.
In the distance, the mountains stood black and massive beneath the moon's silver veil.
From the marsh drifted its heavy, suffocating scent—earthy, stagnant—but somehow, in that mixture of mud and water, I found a strange comfort.
For a moment, I thought I'd shaken off that invisible presence clinging to my skin.
I was about to close my eyes and savor the quiet when a warm breath grazed the side of my neck.
I spun around, heart slamming against my ribs.
My gaze met a face.
Close.
Too close.
His lips curled into a smile that had nothing reassuring in it.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
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