I breathed a small sigh of relief once Zephyr left. Finally, I could focus on Cassie—and maybe calm my nerves before the party. The house was already starting to feel overwhelming in my mind, and I needed something familiar, something I could control. Arranging my few books on the small shelf in the dorm corner became my anchor, a small act that brought some comfort.
"Where's this party anyway? Can we walk there?" I asked, my voice quieter than intended as I tried to seem casual. I picked up a couple of my books, straightened them, and put them back in neat alignment. It was a habit I didn't even realize I had—tidying things calmed me when I felt unsure.
Cassie barely looked up, flicking her mascara wand expertly with a practiced hand. "It's a frat party—one of the biggest ones on campus. Off-campus, so no walking required. Nic will pick us up," she said, almost nonchalantly, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
I felt a small surge of relief. At least I wasn't riding with Zephyr. Just thinking about being trapped in a car with him made my chest tighten. Why was he always so… rude? I had to remind myself not to judge him too harshly, though it was hard. His tattoos, piercings, and cold, calculating expression screamed rebellion, danger, and arrogance all at once. I had been raised in a home where body modifications were taboo—hair had to be neat, eyebrows shaped, clothes clean and ironed. Anything else felt like chaos. And Zephyr? He was pure chaos.
"Hello? Did you hear me?" Cassie's laugh, light and teasing, snapped me back to the present.
"Sorry… what?" I blinked, embarrassed. I hadn't even realized I'd drifted into my thoughts.
"I said, let's get ready—you can help me pick my outfit," she said, already diving into her pile of clothes.
I watched as she rifled through her wardrobe, pulling out options that made my jaw drop. Was she serious? This was a party, not a stage performance. One dress was a shocking shade of red and sheer, her bra visible underneath. It barely covered her thighs, and the heels looked high enough to make anyone stumble just walking. Her golden hair was pulled into a slick bun, and her eyeliner was so thick it looked like it could cast a shadow across her face. I couldn't decide if I was horrified or fascinated—maybe a little of both.
"Did your tattoo hurt?" I asked, trying to change the subject and distract myself from the growing anxiety about the night ahead.
"The first one? Kind of… like a bee sting, over and over," she said casually, shrugging like it was nothing.
"Ugh, that sounds awful," I said, laughing despite myself. Somehow, it was comforting—our strange little confessions balanced each other, bridging the gap between our very different worlds.
Then her gaze landed on my dress. "You're not seriously wearing that, are you?" she asked, her voice carrying both amusement and disbelief.
I ran my fingers over the soft corduroy fabric. This was my favorite dress—the only one I had brought that felt like me. I hadn't gone shopping today, and honestly, I didn't feel like trying on a bunch of new outfits that didn't reflect who I was.
"What's wrong with it?" I asked, trying to sound neutral, though I felt a flicker of defensiveness.
She tilted her head, studying me as if I'd grown two heads overnight. "It's… long," she finally said, clearly trying to choose her words carefully.
"It barely reaches below my knee," I defended softly, pressing the fabric to emphasize the modesty of it. The corduroy was soft but structured, sturdy and reliable—everything I wanted my clothing to be. The three-quarter sleeves and high collar felt safe, familiar, like armor against the chaos of this new life I was stepping into.
"It's pretty," she admitted reluctantly, "but maybe a little too much for a party. You could wear any of my clothes instead."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "No thanks. I'm fine with this." I smoothed the fabric again, savoring the quiet satisfaction that came from standing my ground. It was a small victory, but it felt significant in a world that seemed determined to overwhelm me.
I lingered a moment longer in front of the mirror, adjusting my hair pins and making sure my curls fell neatly where I wanted them. The reflection staring back at me was calm and composed—at least on the outside—but my mind was a swirl of nervous energy. I knew this party was going to challenge everything I thought I knew about college life, and maybe about myself. And yet, standing there, holding onto the comfort of my favorite dress, I felt a tiny spark of courage flicker inside me.