Ava Morgan was face-down on her college dorm couch, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like peppermint tea and broken dreams. The TV screen asked if she was still watching. She wasn't.
Her phone buzzed. Then again. Then it rang.
She groaned and blindly reached for it. "Hanna," she muttered, answering.
"Don't 'Hanna' me, Ava Morgan. You're coming out tonight."
Ava blinked, voice still scratchy. "What?"
"Party. Downtown. Friend of a friend. DJ, rooftop, drinks that don't come in red cups. We're going. You need air, light, people—life."
Ava slumped deeper into the couch. "Yeah, sounds great. Except I've got like $4.32 in my account and a ramen noodle commitment."
"Girl, stop," Hanna snapped. "I said it's on me. Outfit, drinks, everything. You are not sitting in that room for the fourth weekend in a row listening to sad songs and staring at your screensaver."
Ava didn't answer. Her brain was too busy flashing back to Malcom Louis—his smile, his voice, the promises, and the betrayal. Her first real heartbreak. College love that had felt like forever—until it wasn't.
"You've got to stop letting Malcom live in your head rent-free," Hanna added gently. "He made his choice. And now you get to make yours."
"I just…" Ava rubbed her eyes. "I don't feel like myself yet."
"You won't. Not unless you get up. So get up. Shower. We're going shopping. I swear, once you put on heels again, the bad b*tch will come back."
A beat.
Then another.
And Ava, still half-wrapped in her cocoon of regret, finally sighed. "Okay. Fine. But if I end up crying in a bathroom stall—"
"Then I'll hand you tissues and reapply your lip gloss. Twenty minutes. Be cute."
The line clicked off, and Ava sat there staring at her phone, heart thudding quietly.
She didn't know it yet—but tonight was the first step away from Malcom Louis, and one step closer to the storm her future would become.
Ava finally rolled off the couch, dragging the blanket with her like a defeated queen dropping her robe. Her bare feet hit the cold floor, and she padded to the mirror above her desk.
She stared at herself.
Messy bun hanging on by a prayer. Sleep lines on her cheek. Eyes dull and heavy, like she hadn't truly rested in weeks.
"This is not me," she muttered to her reflection. Then shrugged. "But whatever. Hanna's paying, so I guess I get to spend Hanna money tonight."
With a breath, she turned on her heel and headed to the bathroom.
The hot shower felt like a small resurrection. By the time steam fogged the mirror and she stepped out, Ava felt a little more human—still emotionally bruised, but upright. She threw on black ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie that showed just enough skin, and big hoops because Hanna always said big hoops mean big confidence.
By the time she grabbed her purse, she heard a car honk outside.
She jogged downstairs to the dorm parking lot, hoodie flapping behind her like a cape. Hanna's car was parked, sleek and shiny, with music bumping low through the cracked window.
As soon as Ava opened the passenger door, Hanna leaned over and gave her a once-over.
"You look a mess," she declared, grinning.
Ava slid into the seat, tossed her bag onto the floor, and deadpanned, "Thank you so much for being a supportive friend."
Hanna cackled. "That sarcasm? That's the girl I missed."
They high-fived wordlessly and pulled out of the lot, the evening sky soft and pink overhead.
As the car rolled toward the mall, Ava stared out the window. For the first time in a while, she didn't feel like sinking. She didn't feel healed either—but maybe she didn't need to be. Not yet.
Maybe she just needed the right outfit, the right beat, and the right friend to remind her who she was.
The mall was alive—buzzing with music, chatter, and the endless sound of shoes on tile. Ava hadn't been here in months, but tonight, under Hanna's magnetic energy and a budget that wasn't hers, it actually felt… fun.
First stop: Zara. Hanna practically dove into the racks while Ava followed like a slightly grumpy shadow. Still, by the end of the fitting room montage, Ava had to admit the cropped leather jacket she found made her feel like a whole new woman.
Second: Sephora. Hanna was already halfway into the highlighter section before Ava blinked. "We are glowing tonight, no exceptions," Hanna declared, handing her a Fenty gloss bomb like it was sacred.
Third: Steve Madden. Ava tried to resist. She really did. But those black strappy heels whispered her name like a flirty ex she actually missed.
Two hours later, Ava had three shopping bags, a vanilla milkshake from Chick-fil-A, and a faint sense of guilt for how much Hanna had just spent on her. But that was drowned out by the very real thrill of holding something new, wearing something bold, and feeling just a little bit reckless again.
Back in the parking lot, they both collapsed into the car, breathless.
Hanna exhaled dramatically. "Oh my god, that was such a rush. I want to come back here tomorrow."
Ava took a long sip of her milkshake, leaned back in the seat, and side-eyed her. "Well, enjoy. You'll be coming back by yourself. I have classes tomorrow, remember? This was a one-night mental health emergency, strictly for getting my brain off of Malcom."
Hanna turned, gasped, and clutched her imaginary pearls. "Excuse me, miss ma'am, we don't speak the name of that man in this vehicle."
Ava rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, it hasn't gotten to the point where he's the devil."
Hanna's eyes widened. "Girl, he broke your heart. And anybody who breaks the heart of an angel… is a devil. I don't make the rules."
Ava snorted, almost choking on her milkshake. "You're ridiculous."
"Thank you. And you're welcome. Now let's go make your ex-devil see what he lost."
As they pulled out of the parking lot, the mall lights faded in the rearview mirror, but Ava's smile lingered.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she was going to be okay.
After their shopping spree, Hanna dropped Ava back at the dorm.
"Be ready by 8 p.m. sharp," Hanna said through the window, her sunglasses still on even though the sun was practically gone.
Ava gave her a lazy salute. "Yes, ma'am."
Upstairs, Ava collapsed onto her bed for five minutes—which turned into ten—before she forced herself up. She glanced at the clock. 7:47 p.m.
Time to put on the face.
She stood in front of the mirror, hands on her hips, eyes scanning the outfit Hanna had hyped her into buying. The cropped leather jacket. The sheer black top underneath. High-waisted jeans that hugged her hips like they were made for her. It wasn't a "trying too hard" outfit. It was a watch me glow without you, Malcom Louis outfit.
Ava tucked her hair behind her ears, practiced a small smile. Then a bigger one. Then whispered to herself, "You're going to be okay. Go out there, have fun, forget about him. He's just a chapter, not the whole damn book."
She grabbed her purse, threw on some clear lip gloss, and headed downstairs.
Hanna pulled up just as she reached the front steps—and wow.
Her friend stepped out of the car in a short silk dress the color of burgundy wine, hugging her body like sin itself. The neckline dipped low, the heels were tall, and her curly hair was wild and free.
Ava blinked. "Okay, damn, Hanns."
Hanna smirked, striking a pose. "You like? I call it: breaking hearts without saying a word."
Ava laughed, walking over. "Well, I'm flattered you wore it just for me."
"Oh, baby, I only dress this fine when I'm picking up emotionally unstable besties for a hot girl night out."
Ava twirled once in her outfit and Hanna gave an approving nod.
"Wow, girl—you look gorgeous. Like, if Malcom saw you right now? Instant regret. And that's on glow up."
Ava climbed into the car, heart a little lighter than it had been all week. "Let's go before I cry and ruin my eyeliner."
And with that, they sped off into the night—music up, windows down, ready to let the world know they had arrived.
The party was already in full swing by the time Hanna and Ava arrived.
The music was loud—bass thumping hard enough to shake the walls—and bodies were everywhere. Dancing, grinding, shouting over the sound system. A couple people were already barefoot. Someone was definitely doing a body shot in the corner.
Ava blinked. "This is… intense."
"Right?" Hanna beamed, dragging her inside. "Just soak in the chaos. That's the point."
Ava tried. She really did. But something about the crowd, the noise, the heat—it all pressed in too tight. She needed a moment.
"I'm just going to get some air," she said, waving Hanna off. "I'll be back."
Without waiting for a response, she pushed past a line of people by the bathroom—pretty sure someone was doing drugs back there, yikes—and made her way to the stairs that led up to the rooftop.
The air outside was cool and crisp, a total contrast to the humid madness downstairs. Ava took a deep breath, savoring the silence.
Then she saw him.
He was leaning against the railing, half in shadow, the orange glow of a cigarette lighting up the edge of his face. She could only see his side profile, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks.
Brown hair, slightly tousled.
Long lashes that looked unfair on a man.
Chiseled jawline, pointed nose, and a calm expression that didn't belong at a party like this.
He was wearing tailored slacks and a fitted brown shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like he'd been invited to the wrong event but came anyway. The cigarette burned between his fingers, somehow making him look both dangerous and poetic.
Ava didn't even like guys who smoked.
But something about him—his stillness, the way he seemed untouched by the chaos—was magnetic.
She didn't realize she was staring until he turned around, as if he'd felt her eyes on him.
Their gazes met.
His eyes were sharp, a piercing steel-gray that caught the rooftop light just right.
Her breath hitched.
His brow lifted slightly, cigarette still poised between his fingers. Then, just like that, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
And Ava? She froze. Eyes wide. Heart thudding.
She had no idea who this man was.
But she had a feeling her night had just taken a sharp left turn.