Zoe's POV
Jason's place was almost too good to be true. The boy clearly swam in affluence. It loomed ahead like a five-star hotel, towering above us. The three of us—Ashley, Guz, and I—stood before it like dwarf-sized musketeers about to be swallowed whole by a luxury maze.
We approached the massive front door slowly. That's when Ashley suddenly spun around, out of the blue grabbing both mine and Guz's hands, holding them up like we were making a desperate plea to the universe.
Her lips trembled.
I stared at her, confused. Searching her eyes for answers.
"It's not too late to turn back," she whispered.
"Hell no," Guz frowned. "We made it this far. We are going to that party. What's going on, Ash? Why the sudden cold feet?"
Ashley was unraveling. And honestly? So was I. I'd been banking on her confidence to pull me through. She was the one who had been excited about this party from the beginning. I didn't even want to be here
Obvious reasons.
I remembered how I almost cancelled. I'd gone looking for Jason that day just to tell him I wasn't coming.
But instead, I saw Brandon.
He was leaving the counselor's office, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders sagging. I felt something was off. His head was low, and when he looked up and saw me, his frown said it all. He didn't want to talk. Not to me, at least.
Still, I couldn't help being curious. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe I just trusted my gut. I had an appointment with Miss Riley anyway—new student stuff. So I figured... kill two birds with one stone.
Once Brandon was out of sight, I slipped into the office.
Miss Riley greeted me warmly and motioned for me to sit. She looked like someone whose face had made peace with smiles over the years. An average woman. Probably mid-thirties. Cheerful with kind eyes.
"Welcome, Miss Hawkins," she said, clearing her throat when she caught me scanning the room.
We talked mostly about colleges that accepted fashion students—my future, my dreams. But as she walked me to the door, I hesitated. I knew what I wanted to ask, but my nerves tangled my tongue.
Screw it.
"Brandon was here before me, right?" I asked, deliberately casual. "Is he okay?"
She sighed softly. "You know I can't discuss other students…"
"Please," I pushed. "We live together now. He's practically a sibling. I just… I think he's going through something. And maybe if I knew what it was, I could help."
Marveled at how convincing I sounded.
She hesitated a moment then finally she said, "Brandon's a bright student. But he's been distracted lately. Slipping behind in his core subjects. If you really want to help… talk to him about extra classes. Or maybe find him a tutor."
My stomach dropped. Brandon? Failing?
Everyone spoke so highly of him, like he was Lakeside royalty. But if what Miss Riley said was true, he was literally at risk of not graduating. And the way he treated me? Maybe it wasn't just arrogance. Maybe something was going on.
As if I hadn't seen enough. I saw Mr. Pat, Brandon's tutor speaking to him in class. His stern gestures and facial expression suggested he was warning him about something. Jason wasn't even there, and somehow, I'd gotten tangled in the mess. I left quickly—and ran right into Ashley, who had apparently been looking for me everywhere.
She wasn't exactly thrilled when she found out I'd tried to cancel.
"No one cancels this kind of party," she said, exasperated. "Maybe your familiarity with popularity has confused you, but this invite? It's a big deal."
Popularity? I wish!
"This is the kind of party that matters. If I want to be a world-renowned designer, it starts here. Attending parties like this. People need to see my work—wear it."
She wasn't wrong. Ashley made sure Guz and I were going to rock her designs like runway models.
We hadn't even reached the school's garage when I saw Brandon's truck speed off.
So much for taking me to pick Madison up.
I didn't blame him. He clearly wasn't having the best day. Still, something tugged at me—an urge to help. I'd always been more of a bookworm than a social butterfly… maybe tutoring was something I could do.
But would he let me?
"Weren't you supposed to go with him?" Guz asked.
My face answered for me.
Ashley squeezed my shoulder. "Don't let it get to you. Good thing he left. Come with us. I promise—you won't regret it."
Before I could respond, Seth walked over.
"I thought you left with Brandon?" he asked.
"Oh no, he left without me," I replied.
"Typical Brandon," he muttered. His face gave away no emotion, but somehow… I wanted to defend Brandon.
"I already had plans to hang with Ash," I added quickly.
Seth offered to drive me home, but I declined. He wasn't too pleased about it but I was sticking with Ashley and Guz.
We went to the clothes market, and Ashley was in her element. Her steps, swift and confident, like she knew every inch of the place. The market was a vibrant chaos—voices, colors, textures. My eyes feasted on it all.
Ashley led us to a shop where a tall, glowing woman welcomed us in. The lights cast a soft, golden hue on the racks of fabric.
"I always come here," Ashley beamed. "These are thrift pieces—straight from the fashion galas. I buy, remodel, and create magic."
She waved her arms dramatically. "Go ahead. Feast your eyes."
Guz raised an eyebrow. "The gala, really?"
"Yes!" Ashley insisted, holding up a dress. "Look at this design. The fabric. Divine. No one would ever guess it's thrift."
"We could just wear something from our closets," Guz muttered. I don't get what the big deal is about this party anyway.
Ashley's face flushed crimson.
"What's the BIG DEAL!?" she shouted. "Are you kidding me?"
She tore into Guz like it was a televised debate. He clearly got the message. He zipped his lips and started browsing clothes instantly
Yeah… I got the message too. Ashley's passion was terrifying—but impressive.
For what it's worth I was team Ashley.
Truth be told, my tomboy wardrobe wouldn't cut it for this party. So I joined the search.
Ashley found accessories—bead bracelets, layered necklaces, things with flair. She moved with a wild sort of grace, pacing around like a storm in heels.
"We're going to look entirely different," she announced. "Nothing short of iconic. Hands on deck—we've got a party to crush!"
And we did. Everything was falling into place.
But now? At the doorstep of this mansion… Ashley was shaking.
This party meant everything to her. So why the sudden need to bail?
Guz stepped in, gently holding her shoulder. He held her gaze up.
"Ash," he said softly. "We got this."
He raised his hand to the sky like he was drawing her name in stars. "Ashremode. Your brand. Your design. Worn by 'The Red-Haired Chloe' at the biggest party in Lakeside County."
Okay. A little dramatic. But effective. A voice inside me muttered.
Ashley's eyes flickered. Her Confidence returned. She inhaled sharply and looked at us.
"Let's do this."
"Yes!" Guz shouted.
I smiled and nodded. We moved forward, hearts pounding.
Then we stopped, dead in our tracks.
No one told us it was a bikini party.