Chapter 15
Jul 4, 2025
By the time I get home from the party, my heels are dangling from one hand and my throat aches from pretending to be okay. The hall lights flicker like they’re judging me. I shut my door quietly, press my back against it, and breathe.
Lily’s still downstairs, probably finishing her third cup of spiked cider and telling someone off. I’m grateful for that. I don’t want her to see me like this—too quiet, too wired, too close to unraveling.
I kick off my shoes. Strip out of the too-tight dress. Wipe the makeup off my face like I’m erasing who I was an hour ago. Then I curl up on my bed, hugging a pillow to my chest like it can stop the way my heart won’t stop pounding.
My phone buzzes.
I almost ignore it. I should ignore it.
But I don’t.
I flip it over.
Grayson: You still think you’re all self-control, Alden. Prove it. Be good and go to bed. Or be brave and show me what you dream about.
I freeze.
The words blur for a second. I blink. My brain tries to make sense of it, but my body already understands. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Like it knows this is the moment I lose the war I’ve been pretending I’m not fighting.
I stare at the message. For minutes. Maybe hours. My thumb hovers over the screen. I don’t answer. I can’t. My breath shortens, sharp and shallow, like the air’s turned to needles. My skin’s buzzing, too warm, too raw.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I whisper to the empty room.
I throw my phone to the other side of the bed. I pace the room twice. Open the window. Close it. Scream into a pillow so no one hears. I delete the message. I try to pretend I didn’t read it, didn’t feel it like a spark in my spine.
Then I restore it.
“You’re not going to do it,” I mutter to myself. “You’re not that girl. You don’t need validation. You’re not—” My voice cracks, the rest swallowed by the lump in my throat.
But I already know I’ve lost. Because I can still feel his voice in my ear from the balcony. Still feel the way he looked at me, like he saw the whole world and chose to stay. He could’ve laughed, could’ve called me dramatic, but he didn’t. He stood in that freezing dark and said maybe losing to me wouldn’t be so bad.
And maybe that’s what ruins me.
Because I open my drawer.
And I pull it out.
A silk slip. Cream. Delicate. Barely there. I forgot I even owned it—something Lily dared me to buy last year during a summer sale. I’d laughed, said it wasn’t “me.” She’d rolled her eyes and called me a coward. Maybe she was right.
Maybe it is now.
My hands shake as I pull it on. The fabric whispers over my skin, scandalous and soft. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t recognize the girl looking back. She’s nervous. Scared. But also lit from the inside out with something reckless. Something dangerous. Something very, very alive.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to my reflection. “What are you doing, Juliet?”
But my reflection doesn’t answer. She just stares like she’s waiting for me to catch up.
I grab my phone.
The first photo: my lips. Slightly parted. No smile. Just breath.
The second: my bare shoulder, smooth and ghostlit by the hallway lamp.
The third: my thighs, the hem of the slip riding up like it’s flirting with a sin.
I stare at them.
Then I hit send.
I drop the phone on the bed like it burned me.
My entire body goes cold. Then hot. Then cold again. Shame curls in my stomach. What did I just do? What if he shows someone? What if I just became exactly what they whisper about? I shake my head, pull my knees to my chest, and squeeze my eyes shut like maybe I can undo it all.
I pace again, arms wrapped tight around myself. I consider deleting everything. Begging the universe to undo the last two minutes. I think about texting him—Never mind. That wasn’t me. Forget it. But the damage is already done.
“God, I’m so stupid,” I breathe. “So unbelievably stupid.”
The screen lights up.
Grayson: You just became the only girl I can’t stop thinking about.
