CHAPTER 104
**WINTER**
"Okay. Fine," I say, nodding as a sense of rebellion stirs inside me.
Claire’s face lights up in triumph. "That's my girl!" she says, pulling me into a quick hug.
"So, what are you wearing tonight? You need to make a statement. Show Zion he can play all the games he wants, but you're not backing down—you're standing tall, unshaken."
I let out a frustrated groan. "Yeah, and that'll just make him come at me even harder!"
Claire rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
"Don't give him that power. You can’t let him win. Now, focus on more important matter—what are you wearing tonight?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I have no clue. Honestly, I’m not feeling very ‘party-ready’ at the moment."
Claire grins wickedly. "Sexy, Winter. Always sexy. Trust me, if you look like a bombshell, Zion won’t know what hit him."
We sit in silence, sipping from our steaming mugs until Claire suddenly breaks it.
“I think Carl likes you,” she says out of nowhere, her voice teasing but laced with curiosity.
I blink, eyebrows furrowing as I turn to face her. “Wait… who?”
“Carl,” she repeats, drawing out his name like it should be obvious.
I shake my head slightly, still not placing the name.
She groans, rolling her eyes with exaggerated frustration.
“You know—Carl. Tall, dark hair, football player? Always hanging around with Jason and that crowd? Pretty easy on the eyes?”
“Oh... him,” I mumble, a vague image forming in my mind.
Claire nods, leaning in a little closer.
“Yeah, him. He said you were, and I quote, ‘really pretty’ during Psychology class last week. I’m just saying... he’s definitely interested.”
I blink again, heat rising to my cheeks. “He said that? Out loud?”
She grins, clearly enjoying my reaction.
“Mmmhmm. Loud enough for everyone to hear. So... what are you gonna do about it?”
I shrug it off, not really interested.
“Well, whoever this Carl is, it’s not happening.”
Claire gapes at me. “Why not? He’s hot! And trust me, I’ve heard he's pretty... gifted, if you know what I mean.” She waggles her fingers teasingly, and I groan.
“Gifted or not, I’m not interested.”
Claire’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes me, like she’s just uncovered a juicy secret. She leans in, finger raised in accusation, her voice dripping with disbelief.
“Wait a second… you’re telling me you don’t think Carl’s sexy?” Her eyes suddenly widen, and I can practically see the lightbulb flick on. “Oh my God. Don’t you dare tell me you’ve got your sights set on someone else—your stepbrother… Zion?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Are you serious? He hates me, Claire. And honestly, the feeling is mutual.”
“Did something *else* happen between you two?”
“No. And can we please drop it? He’s not worth the conversation.”
"Fine," she says, hopping off the bed with newfound determination.
“Let’s find you something to wear. I’ve been dying to raid your wardrobe.” I watch as Claire swings the closet doors open, a grin lighting up her face.
“Hmm... let’s see what we’ve got here.”
I lean back, amused, as she rummages through my clothes, pulling out piece after piece with exaggerated “oohs” and “ahhs.”
Suddenly, Claire freezes mid-search, her eyes lighting up with a spark of excitement as she yanks a dress from the closet.
“This. You have to wear this tonight,” she declares, holding it up like it’s some rare treasure.
I stare at the dress—the dress Jenny bought me. A sleek, midnight-blue sequence number with just enough shimmer to catch the light but short enough to feel scandalous.
I fold my arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Claire, we’re heading to a college party, not some fancy nightclub.”
She shoots me a mischievous grin, clearly unfazed.
“Exactly. Which makes it the perfect opportunity to stand out.”
"Claire... I really don’t think—"
“Don’t think what? Don’t you want to look good
“Not really,” I mutter, feeling a little drained. “I just want to blend in, stay under the radar. A simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt is all I need.”
The more she pushes, the more I feel like retreating. The idea of drawing attention to myself makes my stomach turn.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t press like I expected her to. Instead, her expression falls a little, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter what you wear. You’ll still look gorgeous no matter what.” She drops the sequined dress back onto the bed.
I look at the discarded dress..
It’s the one Jenny gave me as a welcome-to-the-family gift. I’ve never worn it—and honestly, I probably never will. It’s just not me, too flashy and attention-grabbing for someone like me.
I run my fingers over the smooth, expensive fabric, the kind of material I’ve never even dreamed of owning before. Dresses like this are for girls who belong, who fit perfectly into this world. Not for someone like me.
The thought of putting it on feels... wrong, like I’d be pretending to be someone I’m not. Besides, what if I ruined it? I can’t afford to replace something so beautiful, so clearly out of my league.
Shoving down the sting of inadequacy curling in my chest, I glance at Claire, forcing a casual shrug.
"It's too revealing, and honestly, I don't think it suits me. No idea why Mom even bought it for me in the first place."
“What are you talking about? You’re stunning. I’d kill for your curves Winter.”
"Claire, seriously, don’t sell yourself short—you turn heads without even trying," I say, giving her an appraising look. A smirk tugs at my lips as I glance at her outfit.
"Actually, I think I might have something that would look absolutely stunning on you."
Her eyes widen with curiosity. "Oh really? And what exactly are you planning to dress me up in?"
"Relax, nothing crazy. Just trust me—you’ll look incredible."
I walk over to the wardrobe and pull out a different dress, a black one Jenny got for me. It’s sleek, classy, and shows off just the right amount of skin.
“What about this? I guarantee it’ll turn heads.”
Claire eyes it, a smile tugging at her lips.
“You really think so?”
“I do. Now try it on.”
“Okay, fine. You can wear whatever you want, but—” Claire grins mischievously.
I groan, already knowing what’s coming.
“I’m doing your makeup,” she finishes, raising an eyebrow as if daring me to object.
I roll my eyes.
“Deal.”
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