....

“You’re a curious one, Jones.”

“Huh?” I blinked at him, heart thudding like it was trying to escape my chest.

Chase was watching me with that unreadable, half-smirk expression of his. His eyes had this heavy intensity—like they could dig through layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You intrigue me,” he repeated, slower this time.

My mouth went dry, but I tried to keep my voice light. “Intrigue me how? Like… the science experiment kind? Or the ‘might be a serial killer’ kind?”

He laughed—soft and low—and tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was trying to place me in a box I didn’t quite fit into.

“Your unpredictability,” he said, voice calm but laced with something electric. “Most people play it safe around me. You? You seem to enjoy crossing the line.”

I raised a brow, unsure if I should be flattered or offended. “And that’s… a good thing?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes never lost that sharp gleam. “Depends who you ask. But to me? It’s kind of refreshing.”

I snorted, trying to cover the flush creeping up my neck. “Refreshing? Like an iced lemonade or…?”

He leaned a little closer, and it felt like the air between us suddenly thickened. “More like static before a storm. A spark. Unpredictable… dangerous, maybe. But impossible to ignore.”

Before I could come up with anything remotely clever to say, a voice cut through the moment—high-pitched and vaguely annoying in that overly sweet kind of way.

“Chaaase!”

I turned my head just as the click of heels echoed down the hallway. Lea strutted over, all confidence and perfume, her platinum blonde ponytail swinging like it had its own attitude. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a tight lavender mini-skirt, the whole look calculated to turn heads—and she knew it.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said dramatically, resting her manicured hand on his shoulder like she owned the space. Her eyes flicked over to me, a soft, saccharine smile spreading across her lips. “Oh… you’re talking to Number 15.”

Her gaze dipped to the chain around my neck, then flicked back up.

“Camille,” I corrected, my voice steady but edged. “Not Fifteen.”

Lea’s smile didn’t budge, but there was a slight tightening at the corners. “My bad. I forget names easily—especially new ones. But you’ve gotten kinda famous around here, huh?” She turned slightly, hair bouncing. “I’m Lea, by the way.”

Chase didn’t react much, but I caught the tiniest shift in his shoulders, like he was suddenly aware of how close she was. Her hand still rested lightly on him.

“I didn’t know you were looking for me,” he said, voice cool and unreadable.

“I was hoping you’d join me for lunch,” she replied, gaze locked on him like I wasn’t even there. “Cafeteria’s serving our favorite dish.”

God, the way she said 'our' made my skin crawl.

I raised an eyebrow. “Your favorite dish?” I asked casually, lips twitching.

“Mmhmm,” she said, glancing at me with a barely-there smirk. “Chase and I tend to like the same things.”

I glanced at Chase—he still wore that same blank expression, but I noticed the twitch in his jaw.

“I’ll pass,” he said coolly. “Not hungry.”

Lea blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but she pasted her smile back on quickly. “Oh, come on. You skip lunch all the time—I’m just being a concerned friend.”

Our eyes met for a split second, and I swear I saw it—relief. Barely there, but definitely there.

“I’m good, Lea,” he said, a little more firmly. “Maybe some other time.”

Her smile faltered, just for a breath, then returned with all its practiced charm. “Alright… later then.” She finally dropped her hand from his shoulder and turned her attention back to me.

“Camille,” she said, her voice sugary and bright. “Random, but there’s this underground party tonight. Kinda exclusive. Just for the top 20s.”

Top 20s. Right. And i was a number 15.

Chase stiffened immediately beside me, and his face darkened. “Pretty sure Camille isn’t into things like that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shot back, glancing at him with a tight-lipped smile. “Sounds... fun.”

Lea’s eyes sparkled. “Exactly! It’ll be fun. Loud music, dancing, no rules… a break from all the drama around here. You’ll fit right in. I’ll send you the address—it’s after lights out. Bring your roommate too, if you want.”

Chase looked like he’d just swallowed something bitter. “Lea, seriously. Not a good idea.”

But she just laughed, brushing him off like lint on her sleeve. “Lighten up! She can handle herself. It’s just a party.”

With a wink, she grabbed his arm lightly and tugged him toward the hallway. As they walked away, Chase looked back—just once. A quick glance over his shoulder, like he wanted to say something… but didn’t.

Then he turned away.

**********

The dorm was quiet. That rare, in-between kind of quiet—not library silence, but the kind that hums with everyone being somewhere else.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the black satin dress for the third time. It was short, simple, strappy. The kind of dress that didn’t try too hard but made it impossible to ignore you. I hadn’t worn anything like it since... well. Since before.

“You going to a funeral or a heist?” Penelope asked from behind me as she came out of the bathroom. It was light out already.

I jumped a little, caught in the mirror’s reflection as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, half an orange lollipop in hand. Her hair was in two messy braids, with her locs dangling, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that read AVARD DEBATE TEAM: CONVINCE ME YOU’RE INNOCENT.

“You scared me,” I muttered, smoothing the dress.

She squinted. “You never wear black unless you’re spiraling or scheming like last time. Which is it tonight?

I didn’t answer right away. Just kept fiddling with the straps. They refused to lay flat on my shoulder, like even they had doubts.

“Camille.”

“Okay, fine.” I sighed, turning toward her. “I got invited to a thing. A... party.”

I really didn't want to tell Penelope or anyone. Anything could go wrong.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “A thing.”

“It’s not on campus,” I added. “More of an... off-the-record situation.”

“That sounds illegal.”

“It’s not illegal illegal.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better or more concerned?” she deadpanned, licking her popsicle.

I shrugged. “Depends. You wanna come?”

Her face froze mid-lick. “Wait—seriously?”

I nodded. “If you want. No pressure.”

“You? Inviting me to a party? What is it about? There's no party I don't hear about."

I hesitated.

“You ever heard of the Top 20?”

Penelope blinked. “The... chain ranking thing? Who haven't heard of it. Am a number 20 too."

“Not exactly.” I gave a lopsided smile. “Turns out, there’s a different kind of Top 20. Underground. Rich kids, power players, people who get away with everything.”

Her eyes widened slowly. “And you got invited?”

I didn’t take it personally. Much.

“It’s complicated,” I said. "Lea invited me. With Chase too." That was not a lie.

She tilted her head. “Lea invited you of all people to a party? When did you get so close to that extent?"

“We are not close. It's just complicated like I said."

She just gave me a look.

“Okay. But that's surprising. Lea the queen b*tch."

Penelope laughed, the sound bright in the dim room. “This is wild. I didn’t even know stuff like that actually existed here. I thought everyone just wore khakis and pretended their lives were fine.”

I looked at her. “So… wanna come?”

She paused, eyes drifting toward the closet like she was mentally flipping through her very un-party-appropriate wardrobe. “I mean... I don’t have a dress.”

“You have me.” I opened the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out a short red slip dress—slinky, shimmery, still with the tags. “I was saving this for something reckless.”

Penelope took it like it was fragile. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going alone,” I said. “Not to this.”

She met my eyes then. A second passed. Then she nodded.

“Okay. Screw it. Let’s be bad.”

---

Later, getting ready

Our dorm transformed. Makeup cluttered the desk, music low and pulsing through my phone speaker. The bathroom mirror fogged with hair spray. Penelope stood in front of it now, adjusting her dress, the red catching the light.

“This feels like a fever dream,” she muttered.

“You look hot.”

“I look like I should be holding a martini and plotting someone’s downfall.”

“That’s the vibe.”

She turned to me. “Do you think it’s safe?”

I didn’t answer right away. Just pulled on my boots—black, heeled, a little taller than usual.

“I think,” I said finally, “that it’s the kind of night where something changes.”

"Does Archer knows of this?" She asked applying a bold red lipstick.

"I don't think so. Even if he does...he is not in the 20s."

"Yeah."

Penelope looked at me like she was trying to decide if that was thrilling or terrifying.

Probably both.

“Ready?” I asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Lead the way, partner in crime."

As we stepped out into the night, heels clicking, the campus behind us seemed too quiet

---