Chapter 2

I sat in the back of a black stretch Lincoln limousine. Outside, camera flashes strobed against the dark glass, and loud, pulsing music filled the night air.

There were only ten minutes left before the prom red carpet officially opened.

The phone resting on my knees vibrated non-stop. Notifications from a Snapchat group chat kept popping up.

Initially, this group chat was only for the football players and cheerleaders.

But I had used a few connections to get an alt account—posing as a junior varsity cheerleader—to slip in unnoticed.

Blake had just posted a picture of himself leaning against the hood of a sleek sports car. He was wearing a sharp tuxedo, his bowtie half-undone.

The comments below were overflowing with praise and hype.

"Our quarterback is looking hot tonight! Ready to welcome your hot air balloon date?"

"I’ve got my GoPro ready. I’m going to capture her rolling down the red carpet in glorious 4K."

Then, Chloe, the varsity cheer captain, sent a voice note.

"Come on, guys, don't talk about Stella like that. She might be on the larger side, but she’s willing to wear pink just for Blake. That shows she really loves him."

"Just don't laugh too loudly when she gets here. I’d hate for her to run home crying."

Blake replied with a laughing emoji.

"Don't worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman and escort my pink clown all the way to the door."

I stared coldly at the screen.

During my second month away from school, I met Blake in an online game.

He thought my gaming skills were amazing, and he loved my voice, calling it incredibly sexy. Soon, he started pursuing me.

Later, he found out that I was actually Stella—the "fat girl" everyone whispered about at school. I had been terrified that he would mock me, just like everyone else did.

But he didn't.

Instead, he told me: "Stella, they only care about looks and bodies. But I know you have the most beautiful soul."

"In my eyes, you will always be the most gorgeous girl."

I was deeply moved. I gave him my heart.

Not only did I study by myself at home to keep up with my senior year classes, but I also acted as his emotional trash can whenever he lost a football game.

In the game, he called me "My Queen." But in reality, he treated me as a twisted trophy to boost his own fragile male ego.

"We're up next, ma'am," the chauffeur said, opening the door from the outside.

The roaring noise of the crowd rushed into the quiet car the moment the door swung open.

Students lined both sides of the red carpet, their phones raised to record everything.

Blake was standing halfway up the carpet, holding a glass of champagne, leaning in to whisper something to Chloe.

The moment my high heels touched the red carpet, the girls nearest to the limo stopped talking.

Their hands, holding up their phones, froze in mid-air.

I stepped fully out of the car, adjusting my dress.

My custom black starry-night gown caught the flashing lights, reflecting subtle, cold glints of starlight.

The soft, premium fabric hugged my waist perfectly, and the backless design dipped elegantly down to my lower back.

The whispers and chatter along the red carpet seemed to vanish, starting from where I stood and spreading outward.

In its place was the frantic clicking of camera shutters.

"Who is that? Is she a celebrity? Does she even go to our school?"

"That dress... is that the Paris Fashion Week runway piece? I literally just saw it in Vogue last week!"

I walked down the red carpet, my gaze cutting straight through the crowd.

Hearing the sudden shift in the crowd's energy behind him, Blake turned around.

His eyes locked onto me, and the casual, arrogant smirk instantly drained from his face.

The champagne glass in his hand tilted slightly, spilling a few drops onto his leather shoes, but he didn't even notice.