CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Penelope's POV

(FLASHBACK)

The rich scent of fabric glue and the soft hum of Aria Flynn's Today We Break Up filled my bedroom as I carefully placed the last rhinestone on the neckline of a shimmering black gown. My fingers, slightly sticky from my work, hovered over the fabric as I assessed the design. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine.

Sitting cross-legged on my plush pink rug, I grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped a loose thread. Designing gowns was my escape—my way of creating something beautiful in a world that often felt anything but. I adjusted the volume of the music, letting the soulful notes wash over me.

My room was my home. My safe place. With posters of Aria Flynn, The Bangles, and Lena LaRue plastered all over my wall, there is a shift of atmosphere with a hint of homey. A book shelf filled with books of different genres is nailed just above my single-mattress. My Aira Flynn poster bedsheet and my wish list decorated on the wall above me. Everything about my room made me excited to return to it every day after school.

A loud knock suddenly startled me.

I paused, frowning. No one ever knocked on my door unless they wanted something.

Before I could get up, the door creaked open, and my mother's head peeked inside. Her golden-blonde hair was wrapped into a loose bun, a few strands falling over her sharp cheekbones. Despite her delicate features, there was always an air of detachment in her blue eyes when she looked at me. She wasn't unkind—just distant, as if I were an obligation rather than a daughter.

"There's someone at the door for you," she said, her tone neutral.

My brows furrowed. "For me?"

She nodded once before stepping back into the hallway.

Curious, I pushed myself up, dusting stray threads from my leggings, and walked toward the front door. The moment I pulled it open, my breath caught.

Julien Laurent stood on my doorstep, his lean frame relaxed as he leaned against the doorframe. He was dressed casually in a white t-shirt and brown trousers, his arms folded across his chest. His dark brown, tousled hair was slightly damp as if he had just showered, and his sharp green eyes flickered with something unreadable as they met mine.

"Hey," he said smoothly.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Uh… hi?"

A slow smirk pulled at his lips. "You sound surprised."

"That's because I am," I replied honestly. "Why are you here?"

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before saying, "I can really imagine sharing this with anyone else."

Silence.

"Prom. Will you be my date?"

My fingers curled against the doorframe as I tried to process his words. "You're joking."

His smirk widened. "Do I look like I'm joking? I don't joke about things like this."

Honestly, no. He looked completely serious.

A million thoughts ran through my mind. Why me? We weren't exactly close. Sure, we'd shared a few conversations at school, but that was it. And yet, here he was, asking me to prom.

When I didn't answer right away, he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Look, I need a date. You need a date. It's a win-win situation."

I narrowed my eyes. "Who said I needed a date?"

His smirk deepened. "So you already have one?"

I clenched my jaw, knowing I didn't.

"Thought so," he murmured, his gaze glinting with amusement. "So, what do you say?"

I hesitated. Something about this felt… off. Like there was more to his request than he was letting on. But a part of me—one I refused to acknowledge—felt a strange sense of excitement.

Before I could overthink it, I nodded. "Fine."

He grinned. "Great. I'll pick you up tommorow at seven."

And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart hammering in my chest.

—

A scream tore from my throat as I sank.

The wind roared in my ears, my limbs flailing helplessly as the city lights blurred beneath me. My white prom dress I had worn swelled around me, stark against the night. The ground rushed up to meet me, and then—

Impact.

Pain exploded through my skull as I hit the pavement, a sharp, unbearable agony that spread like wildfire. My vision swam. Warmth trickled down my forehead. My fingers twitched against the cold, unyielding concrete.

Blood.

My blood.

Everything dimmed, the world slipping away—

I gasped, jerking awake.

My chest heaved, my skin slick with sweat. My hands flew to my head, fingers searching for wounds that weren't there. I was on the couch, not on the pavement. I was safe. I was alive.

But the dream…

It had felt so real.

I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. Was it a memory? Or just a nightmare?

I glanced around, realizing I had dozed off while searching through Madison's phone. The device was still in my lap, the screen dark. Frustration gnawed at me. There was nothing. No messages, no photos, no clues about what had happened to her. It was as if Madison had wiped her entire existence from the device.

Why?

A sudden noise made me tense.

The front door unlocked.

I shot up, heart pounding as a figure stepped inside and flicked on the light.

Julien.

He stood by the entrance, still dressed in the black polo shirt and pant trousers he had worn for dinner earlier. His sharp gaze landed on me, and his brows furrowed slightly. "You okay?"

I swallowed, realizing I must look like a mess—sweaty, still in my dinner outfit, shaken from the dream. "I'm fine."

A long pause.

Then, before I could stop myself, I blurted, "Did something happen on prom night?"

Julien's expression didn't change, but I caught the flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise? Amusement?

"Not anything special. Did you recall something?"

"N-no. I just got... curious."

He nodded, staring into space then, his lips tilted into a smirk.

"Ah, right," he mused. "We had our first kiss."

My stomach clenched.

"I remember being taken aback because I didn't know you were a tongue person," he added, his voice dipping into something almost teasing.

A strange, bitter taste filled my mouth.

So, he had asked me to prom… and then kissed Madison that same night?

I felt an irrational pang of jealousy, but I shoved it down. That wasn't what mattered right now.

Julien stretched, then turned toward the bedroom. "I'm going to bed. Are you joining me?"

I forced a smile and nodded curtly.

Julien nods and turns to leave.

I barely acknowledged him as he disappeared down the hall.

Instead, my mind was stuck on the dream. The fall. The blood.

And the undeniable feeling that it wasn't just a nightmare.

It was something more.

Something real.