The day of the Winter Ball finally arrived, and Tate was nervous as hell. Her thoughts were spiraling—what if she made a fool of herself? What if she tripped or said something dumb? What if everyone hated her dress?
People would be watching her now. She wasn't invisible anymore. And that terrified her.
Sensing her nerves, her mom gently held her hand. "Just enjoy today," she said with a soft smile. "Don't think about anyone else. You look beautiful, baby."
Tate turned to the mirror. She actually did look pretty. Her mom had gone all out—her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup was flawless. Tate had no idea her mom had those kinds of skills. The dress fit like it was made for her, hugging her in all the right places. It gave her a small surge of confidence.
Her mom drove her to the venue, and she met up with Martha at the entrance.
"Oh my gosh," Martha gasped, her eyes wide. "We look so good! I swear, you're glowing."
Inside, the ballroom was stunning. The decorations were magical—twinkling lights, elegant centerpieces, soft music. Even the snack table looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel.
They were serving apple juice as the main drink, but Tate made a mental note not to touch it. She didn't trust her classmates not to spike it. Tonight, the teachers would be looking the other way.
As she and Martha walked in further, she spotted Landon dancing with a girl. He noticed her almost immediately and made his way over.
"Whoa, Tate—is that really you?" he grinned. "You look good."
Tate blushed. Compliments from people like Landon felt... nice. "Thanks," she said, smiling. "You don't look too bad yourself."
"If I'd known you were gonna show up looking like this, I would've asked you to the ball," he joked.
Tate laughed, flattered.
Landon glanced over his shoulder at the girl he'd been dancing with, who was now watching them with narrowed eyes. "I should get back. Have fun tonight, yeah?"
"I'll try," she murmured under her breath.
Martha had already melted into the crowd, laughing and dancing with a group of students. Of course she looked perfect—moving like she belonged there. Tate wished she could be that carefree.
A voice pulled her back. "Tate?"
She turned. It was Allen.
"Wow," he said, clearly stunned. "You look amazing."
Tate smiled, warmed by his sincerity. "Thanks, Allen."
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he admitted. "Even after I asked you…"
Tate cut in gently. "This isn't really my scene."
Allen nodded. "But you came anyway."
"I'm trying to put myself out there a little," she said, shrugging.
"That's good." He smiled. "Want a drink or something? I can grab one for you."
She appreciated the offer. "Water would be great."
"I'll be right back," Allen said, already heading for the table.
While she waited, Tate pulled out her phone. She wasn't really socializing, and Martha was having a great time—she didn't want to be a burden.
"So… you brought your puppy as your date?"
She looked up sharply. Damien stood beside her, looking infuriatingly good in his suit.
She was tempted to ignore him the same way he'd ignored her all week.
"You're not going to reply?" he prodded, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Tate glared. "What is your problem with me?"
"And she speaks," he said, amused.
"What do you want, Damien?"
He leaned against the wall casually. "Nothing. I just think it's funny how you've got Allen wrapped around your finger."
"That's none of your business," she snapped. "And now you're talking to me?"
"Was I not before?"
She opened her mouth to respond but stopped when Allen returned with her water.
"Hey, man," Allen greeted Damien casually.
Damien just smirked and walked off without a word.
Allen watched him go, confused. "What's his problem?"
Tate shook her head. "I don't know."
She really didn't. Damien's attitude toward her was like flipping a switch—hot one second, cold the next. He ignored her, but then had something snide to say about Allen. It made no sense… and yet it still got under her skin.
Tate decided she wasn't going to let Damien ruin her night. She turned to Allen with a small smile.
"Do you want to dance?"
Allen's eyes lit up. "I'd love to."
They made their way to the dance floor just as the DJ switched to a lively pop beat. Tate found herself moving to the rhythm, her body loosening with each step. She flowed with the music, letting it carry her away.
Mid-dance, Allen leaned in close and said, "I didn't know you could dance like this."
Tate laughed. "Me neither."
She danced with Allen, then with Martha, then with some of her classmates who pulled her into their circle. For once, she let herself have fun—real fun. She hadn't felt this light in… forever.
After a long while, the dancing, the lights, the crowd—it all got a little too much. She leaned toward Martha and shouted over the music, "I need to use the restroom!"
Martha nodded, still dancing. "Okay! Don't take too long!"
Tate made her way to the restroom, grateful for the quiet. After finishing up, she decided to take a longer route back to the hall. She was still a little wired from dancing and needed to cool down.
The hallway she chose was mostly empty. As she passed by the darkened classrooms, she heard voices. Male voices. Curious, she peeked through the slightly open door.
Inside, she spotted Damien and a few of their male classmates. They were holding beer cans, lounging around like they owned the place.
So this is where they sneak off to drink, she thought.
She was about to keep walking until she caught her name.
"Damien," one of the boys said, "what do you think of our Vice Governor?"
"Who?" Damien asked.
"Tate. Dude, you literally campaigned with her and Landon."
"Oh." Damien sounded bored.
"She's not bad looking," the guy continued. "I mean, I might go for her if no one better was available."
The others laughed, and Tate felt her stomach twist. She took a step back—but then Damien's voice stopped her cold.
"She's not really that pretty," he said casually. "Actually, now that I think about it… she's kind of ugly."
The guys burst into louder laughter, but Damien wasn't done.
"I don't want her. She's not my type. I could fuck her if I wanted to, sure. But she's just an ugly bitch to me."
Tate froze. The words hit her like a punch to the chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She stumbled backward, accidentally making a sound.
Inside the classroom, the boys fell silent. Footsteps followed—someone checked the hallway. Tate ducked into the restroom and locked the stall, holding her breath.
They eventually left.
But the damage was already done.
She stayed hidden for what felt like forever, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. Her whole body trembled. She felt hollow. Humiliated. Worthless.
He called her an ugly bitch.
Her chest tightened. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
She pulled out her phone with shaky fingers and called her mom. Through broken sobs, she asked her to come pick her up.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," her mom said gently. "Just hold on."
Tate stayed in the stall until she got the text: I'm outside.
She slipped out, careful not to be seen by Martha or Allen. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She didn't want anyone to see her at all.
As soon as she got into the car, her mom gave her a long look, but said nothing. And Tate was grateful for that.
The ride home was silent, except for the sound of her trying not to cry too loudly. She texted Martha and Allen:
Not feeling great. Went home early. Sorry.
When they got home, she rushed straight to her room and broke down completely. The tears came in heavy waves—hot, painful, endless.
What had she done to deserve this?
Why did he hate her so much?
From the very first day, Damien had treated her like she didn't matter. But tonight… tonight was different. It wasn't just cold. It was cruel.
Why did she ever have feelings for someone like that?
She grabbed her phone and blocked him on every platform.
She wanted to erase him.
Erase every stupid moment she spent thinking about him.
Every flutter, every smile, every time he looked at her like maybe… maybe he saw something in her.
She hated him.
She hated him so much.
And yet… the pain still wouldn't stop.