The words hang there.
Bare.
Vulnerable.
She inhales sharply.
“I do,” she says.
And I believe her.
That’s the worst part.
Because believing her makes everything more dangerous.
A shadow falls over our table.
Zoe.
Of course.
She sets her tray down beside Sophia and smiles at me like we’re old friends.
“Hey,” she chirps. “Did you like the post? It’s getting insane engagement.”
Sophia’s shoulders go rigid.
“Zoe,” she warns.
“What?” Zoe tilts her head innocently. “I thought it was cute.”
“Take it down,” Sophia says.
The cafeteria quiets subtly.
People are watching.
Zoe’s smile falters just a fraction. “Why?”
“Because it’s mean.”
A few gasps ripple through nearby tables.
Zoe laughs lightly. “Oh, come on. It’s just a joke.”
“It’s not funny.”
There’s steel in Sophia’s voice now.
I’ve never heard it before.
Zoe notices too.
Her eyes sharpen.
“Are you choosing her over me?” she asks sweetly.
It’s not really a question.
It’s a challenge.
Sophia doesn’t answer immediately.
And in that hesitation, my hope fractures.
“I’m not choosing anyone,” she says finally.
Wrong answer.
Zoe’s lips curve. “Good.”
She turns to me.
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says, tone syrupy. “But if you’re going to draw people without their permission, you can’t expect privacy.”
The accusation stings.
“I wasn’t—”
“She asked me to draw her,” I correct quietly.
Zoe blinks.
Sophia freezes.
The words are out now.
Public.
Irreversible.
“She what?” Zoe asks.
Sophia’s jaw tightens. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It kind of is,” Zoe replies, voice dropping its sweetness. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to,” Sophia snaps.
A hush falls over the surrounding tables.
Zoe stares at her like she’s seeing a stranger.
“Since when do you want things that complicate your life?” she asks softly.
Sophia doesn’t respond.
And in that silence, something shifts.
Zoe looks between us.
Understanding dawns.
Not the full picture—but enough.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Her gaze locks onto mine.
Cold.
Calculating.
“You think you have a chance.”
It’s not a question.
Heat floods my face.
“I don’t—”
“You don’t belong in this world,” Zoe says quietly, venom barely concealed. “You think because she smiles at you, it means something? It doesn’t.”
“Zoe,” Sophia warns.
“She’s using you,” Zoe continues, ignoring her. “For attention. For status.”
That hits harder than the meme.
Because a small, ugly part of me has wondered the same thing.
“I don’t need status,” I say, voice shaking. “I just—”
“Just what?” Zoe challenges.
Just her.
But I can’t say that in a cafeteria full of people.
Sophia stands abruptly.
“That’s enough.”
Her voice cuts like glass.
Everyone goes silent.
Zoe studies her for a long moment.
Then she picks up her tray.
“Careful,” she says softly to Sophia. “You’re risking more than you think.”
And then she walks away.
The noise slowly resumes.
But nothing feels normal.
Sophia sits back down, breathing hard.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You keep saying that.”
“I mean it.”
I look at her.
Really look at her.
At the tension in her shoulders. The way her hands tremble slightly.
She’s not untouched by this.
She’s trapped in it too.
“You don’t have to defend me,” I say quietly. “I can handle high school.”
Her eyes flash. “It’s not about high school.”
“Then what is it about?”
She hesitates.
The weight of her last name presses between us.
“My parents are hosting the Winter Gala this weekend,” she says slowly. “Investors. Politicians. The usual.”
Okay…
“They want to announce something.”
A chill creeps up my spine.
“What?”
She meets my gaze.
“Our engagement.”
The word detonates in my chest.
Engagement.
“To Zoe?” I whisper.
She nods once.
The cafeteria spins.
“That’s insane,” I breathe.
“It’s strategic,” she corrects bitterly. “Her family’s merging assets with ours. It’s all very… beneficial.”
“You’re seventeen.”
“They don’t care.”
My pulse roars.
“So what—what does that have to do with me?”
Her eyes soften.
“Everything.”
I freeze.
“If this,” she gestures subtly between us, “becomes public, it ruins the arrangement.”
Arrangement.
Right.
Because I’m a liability.
A scandal.
A complication.
“I don’t want to ruin your life,” I say, standing abruptly.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I already did.”
“No,” she insists, standing too. “Zoe did.”
“But your parents will blame me.”
“They already blame anyone who doesn’t fit their mold.”
The truth in her voice makes my chest ache.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
She steps closer.
Too close.
Close enough that the cafeteria fades again.
“I’m saying,” she murmurs, “that I don’t want to get engaged.”
Hope flares—reckless and bright.
“And?”
“And I don’t know what that means yet.”
Her fingers brush mine.
Intentional this time.
“If I asked you to come to the gala,” she says softly, “would you?”
My breath stutters.
“That’s crazy.”
“Probably.”
“They’ll destroy me.”
A faint, sad smile curves her lips. “They’ll try.”
I should say no.
I should protect myself.
But I’ve spent two years hiding in the shadows.
Watching her from afar.
Drawing her in secret.
Maybe it’s time to step into the light—even if it burns.
“Why me?” I whisper.
Her gaze drops to my lips for half a second.
Then back to my eyes.
“Because,” she says, voice barely audible, “I want to see how you see me.”
The same words from yesterday.
Only now they feel like a challenge.
A dare.
A promise.
My heart pounds so loud I’m sure she can hear it.
“This will change everything,” I warn.
“I know.”
“And if it goes wrong—”
“It already has,” she says quietly.
She’s right.
The photo. The whispers. The engagement announcement looming like a storm cloud.
Nothing is simple anymore.
So maybe I stop pretending it is.
I swallow hard.
“Okay.”
Her breath catches.
“Okay?”
“I’ll go.”
For the first time since this nightmare started, she smiles.
Not the polished, public one.
Something softer.
Real.
And terrifying.
Because now there’s no going back.
The Winter Gala isn’t just a party.
It’s a battlefield.
And I’ve just agreed to walk into it.