---
Cassie stepped out of the car like she was stepping onto a runway.
No hesitation. No nerves. Just the click of her heels against the driveway and the subtle sway of her hips. Her hair flowed in soft waves down her back, catching the sun like golden silk. A tiny designer purse swung from her elbow, and poking its fluffy head from the bag was her Pomeranian, Fifi, already yawning like a celebrity bored by fame.
The mansion that loomed ahead was familiar—Andrew Coulson's place. His parents were always away, and Andrew's parties were the stuff of Covington legend: rooftop champagne, private DJs, boys in pastel shirts pretending to be men. Cassie could already hear the bass thumping through the walls, could smell the chlorine from the pool mixing with floral perfume and teenage sin.
She didn't even glance back at Blair.
Her eyes scanned the party. Everyone was here. Girls in crop tops and bikinis, boys flexing under open shirts, cliques gathered like monarchs in court.
Then she saw them.
Mary, Grace, Judy—her girls.
Mary, in her cherry-red swimsuit, nudged Judy when she spotted Cassie. "There she is."
Judy lifted her phone halfway. "Cass, you look bomb."
Grace narrowed her eyes. "Is that your… stepsister?"
Cassie turned slowly, like a queen tolerating a fool.
Blair stood by the car, her floral dress soft against the wind. Her hair was in a messy half-up twist, tendrils brushing her cheeks. She wasn't trying to stand out—but she did. Her skin glowed. Her lips carried a natural pink. She held her phone in one hand and a tiny white purse in the other.
"She's… gorgeous," Grace muttered.
Cassie's eyes went cold. She gave Grace a slow, venomous look.
Grace shrugged. "I'm just saying. You can't deny that."
Cassie rolled her eyes and turned away. "Whatever. Where's James?"
Mary leaned in. "Six o'clock, by the hot tub. Jesus, he looks like a Calvin Klein ad."
Cassie followed the invisible line to him.
James.
Black swim trunks, a loose cream shirt unbuttoned halfway, dark hair tousled and damp from a recent dip. He was laughing with Caleb, a controller in one hand, a bottle in the other, their game projected onto the patio wall.
"Girlie," Judy hissed. "Go say hi."
Cassie smirked, adjusted her top, and strutted toward him like the party had just started.
---
Meanwhile, Blair...
She walked slowly through the open gates, her eyes tracing the smooth marble steps, the people, the glitter, the way everyone seemed to know each other. She didn't belong—but she didn't care.
Not today.
She found a small chair by the pool's edge, the water glinting sapphire blue beneath the setting sun. Kids were shouting, laughing, diving. Music pumped. Bottles clinked. Laughter tangled in the air with secrets.
Blair sat down quietly, setting her purse in her lap, smoothing the fabric of her dress. It was a vintage floral print—ivory base, soft blue petals, a delicate neckline that fluttered just enough in the wind. Her sandals matched, simple and pretty, and she had tied her hair with a silk ribbon.
She felt them staring.
Not just Cassie's friends. Everyone.
She let them.
But just as she was settling into her thoughts—her peace was broken.
A guy stumbled toward her, red cup in hand, shirt clinging wet to his body. He reeked of cheap vodka and bad decisions.
"Hey," he slurred, eyes dragging down her body like oil. "You alone?"
Blair turned, polite. "Just sitting."
"You shouldn't be." He grinned. "Pretty girl like you? C'mon, smile for me."
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Don't be like that," he said, moving closer. "We're all just having fun."
She shifted, her expression cooling. "I said, I'm fine."
The guy laughed, dark and slow. "Chill. I'm just talking. No need to act like—"
Then his hand was on her waist.
That was the last straw.
Blair stood. Straightened. Eyes cold as winter.
"Touch me again," she said, voice low and venom-laced, "and I swear, you'll regret the day you grew hands."
He blinked. "What?"
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she yanked his hand off her waist, twisted it sideways, and with one swift move, kicked him square in the groin.
He gasped, bent over—but Blair wasn't done.
"And by the way," she said, voice rising like a queen's decree, "If you're going to harass women, at least don't smell like expired cologne and broken dreams."
Then—with a clean, cinematic push—she shoved him backward into the pool.
SPLASH.
Water exploded. People screamed.
And then—silence.
All eyes turned.
Cassie looked up from where she was seated beside James.
James raised a brow.
Caleb laughed. "Who is that?"
Cassie, for once, didn't have a sharp reply.
"She's our… new sister," she muttered.
Caleb blinked. "Huh. She's kind of badass."
Blair walked away from the scene like it hadn't happened. Like she hadn't just owned the moment. Her chin high, dress swirling around her knees, a tiny smirk ghosting her lips.
Cassie watched her with something new in her eyes.
Respect.
---
Cassie sat back down beside James, the controller now resting in his lap while Caleb laughed about something in the background. She sipped from her drink, legs crossed, watching the scene by the pool slowly resume its chaos.
Mary rushed over, hips swaying, cheeks flushed. "Girl! Your sister is such a baddie. I love how she shut that guy up—just boom! Kick. Splash. Queen behavior."
Cassie barely turned. "Not a big deal."
Grace appeared behind her, fanning herself with her phone. "It was a big deal. That guy's a total creep. I hooked up with him last summer and he never even texted me back."
Cassie gave her a side-eye so sharp it could cut diamonds. "Why are you hooking up with walking sewage?"
"I didn't know he was sewage," Grace said, dramatically. "He looked like filtered water."
Cassie rolled her eyes and took another sip.
James let out a breathy chuckle, not looking away from his screen. "Your friends are wild."
"Tell me about it," Cassie muttered, already eyeing the guests strolling around. She adjusted her sunglasses, the sunlight glinting off the rim as Mary leaned closer.
"So... when are you and James gonna hook up?"
Cassie gave her a look.
"I don't think he's ready for that," she said coolly, stealing a glance at James—his strong jawline, the way his knuckles flexed around the controller, the ease in his body like he belonged everywhere. "He needs time to realize what he wants."
James, oblivious or just pretending to be, kept playing. But his smirk twitched at the corners.
---
Across the lawn...
Blair had found a low stone bench beneath a lemon tree at the edge of the garden. Fifi—Cassie's spoiled Pomeranian—had decided to adopt her, curling up beside her feet like she'd never belonged to anyone else.
Blair toyed with the little dog's leash, distracted by the glimmer of the pool, the steady beat of music, the smell of grilled shrimp floating through the air.
Then—a sharp tug.
The leash slipped from her fingers.
"Wait—poppy
The puppy darted through the garden like a fur-covered bullet, yapping excitedly, cutting between legs and drinks and flower pots. Blair jumped up, heels clicking against the stone path as she gave chase.
"poppy, come back here!"
The dog made a beeline toward the hedged gate near the street.
And just as Blair's heart leapt to her throat—a hand shot down, scooping the pup effortlessly off the grass.
"Got her!" a voice called.
Blair skidded to a stop, winded and laughing.
The boy straightened up with a playful grin. Tall, lanky but toned, with dark blond curls and curious eyes the color of fog after rain. His shirt was rolled at the sleeves, untucked and casual, and he held poppy like a loaf of bread.
"I promise I'm not trying to hit on you," he said seriously, holding up the dog. "Please don't kick me in the balls."
Blair blinked. Then laughed. "Thanks. And no promises."
He handed the dog over. "Although if it's the same kick from earlier, I probably deserve it just for walking over."
"I'm Oliver," he said finally. "Oliver Haynes. I live a few blocks from here."
"Blair," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm... kind of new."
Oliver tilted his head. "The infamous new girl?"
"Oh God. I'm infamous already?"
"Sort of hard not to be when you kick drunk perverts into pools."
Blair smiled, lowering her gaze.
"Well," he continued, backing away slowly, "it was nice meeting you, Blair. I hope I see you around."
"Me too."
He turned, tossing her a playful salute before vanishing into the garden's shadows.
Blair looked down at poppy, now curled back into her arms, eyes fluttering closed.
"Even your puppy breakouts turn into meet-cutes," she whispered with a smirk.
She settled back onto the bench, heart fluttering, mind spinning, cheeks pink from more than just the sun.
---