CAROLINE
The moment I stepped into the apartment, a wave of heat followed me in. The sun outside had been merciless — blazing, sharp, almost personal. I could still feel its sting on the back of my neck.
I shut the door, letting out a sigh as my eyes adjusted from the harsh daylight to the soft, dim interior of the house.
"Where is everyone?" I called out, my voice echoing in the quiet. "I thought we were going out this evening."
No answer. I tried again. "Safarat? Quenlet? Lovett?"
"In here!" came Lovett's voice from down the hall.
I grabbed my bag from the couch and made my way toward Quenlet's room.
The moment I reached the doorway, I froze.
The once-perfectly-organized room now looked like a battlefield — clothes draped over chairs, heels scattered across the floor, makeup kits open and overflowing.
Designer dresses flew in every direction as the girls scrambled to get ready.
They paused when they saw me standing there. For a second, I felt like a deer caught in headlights.
Then, without a word, they went back to what they were doing.
I managed an awkward smile and said, "Sorry, I'm late — just give me a minute," before dashing off to the bathroom.
After a quick pit stop, I came back to find Quenlet sitting before the vanity mirror while Cynthia blended the last touches of her makeup. Lovett perched on the bed applying mascara, and Safarat was struggling with the straps of her laced heels.
"I can see everyone's busy," I said lightly, stepping further into the room.
Safarat looked up, her gaze trailing over my outfit — white floppy top, blue jeans, and flats. "Why are you not dressed?" she asked, brows arched.
I followed her gaze down my own body and shrugged. "Just got back from class."
"Really?" Quenlet said, standing to face me. "We've been waiting, Caroline. You knew we had plans tonight."
"I know, I know," I said quickly, offering a small smile. "The lecturer took longer than expected, and I barely made it out before—"
Lovett cut in, smirking. "Girl, you should've done what we all do. Write your name on the attendance sheet and bail."
Safarat playfully slapped her on the shoulder. "Bad influence," she teased, and they both laughed.
"Like we all don't do it," Cynthia added under her breath, and everyone giggled.
"Alright, enough," Quenlet said, slipping into her shoes. "Prince hates being kept waiting."
"Prince?" I blinked. "You mean we're meeting him like this?" I gestured to my casual clothes.
They all looked at me — and I didn't need anyone to answer.
Safarat sighed. "Come on. Let's fix you up." She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward her room.
Safarat pulled me into our room before I could protest.
She went straight for her wardrobe, flipping through hangers like she already knew what she wanted.
"Why your Waldrop?" I asked, trying not to sound defensive.
"No time for that, darling," she said, already holding up a glittery blue gown that shimmered even in the dim light. "This will look amazing on you."
I stared at it — long, slim-fitted, the slit running dangerously high up one side. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "We're already late. Just wear it."
I sighed, defeated. There was no time to argue or search for anything else. I slipped into the gown, feeling the silky fabric hug my body in ways that made me both nervous and aware of every inch of skin it touched.
Safarat spun me toward the mirror. "Perfect."
Before I could respond, she was already reaching for her makeup brush. "Sit. Let me fix your face — fast."
I did as told. As she dusted my cheeks and brushed color over my lips, I scanned the room for matching accessories. My gaze landed on the silver shoes and bag hanging neatly by the wall. Perfect match.
By the time she finished, I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.
"You look gorgeous," Lovett said from the doorway, eyes widening.
I smiled shyly. "Thanks. You too."
Her grin deepened. "Let's go before Quenlet locks us in for real."
Just then, Quenlet's voice rang down the hallway. "If you're not out in two minutes, we're leaving you behind!"
Lovett laughed and took my hand. "Come on, Princess. Let's go show them."
When we stepped back into Quenlet's room, everyone turned. For a second, even Quenlet paused — then she smirked.
"You're not looking bad," she said, grabbing her purse. "But don't go stealing my Prince just because Lovett called you a princess."
I smiled, playing along. "Don't worry. You look too gorgeous for that to happen."
She waved off the comment like it meant nothing. "Good. Let's go. The night's not going to wait for us."
Outside, the heat had eased, leaving a soft, cool breeze that brushed against my skin. I inhaled deeply, grateful for it.
"Where's the Uber driver?" Safarat asked as we stepped out of the gate, scanning the street.
No car in sight.
Quenlet groaned. "He's not here yet. We can't wait — Prince hates latecomers. Let's walk to the bus stop; we'll meet him there."
"You could've told us before I wore these heels," Safarat muttered, bending slightly to glance at her shoes. The straps were tight, and her face said it all.
"Sorry," Quenlet said without much sympathy. "Just walk fast."
Safarat pouted. "These shoes are killing me."
I laughed, and she shot me a mock glare.
"I don't even know why you're trying so hard," Cynthia said dryly. "Prince is Quenlet's boyfriend, not yours."
Safarat stopped walking and gave her a long, serious look. "So, what — he's not coming with his friends?"
"Of course he is," Quenlet replied, brushing it off. "You'll have plenty of people to impress. Now move."
I was about to speak when I heard it — my name.
"Caroline!"
The voice froze me in place. I knew that voice. I'd know it anywhere.
Oh no. Not now.
Everyone turned to look behind us, but I couldn't. My heart started to pound, a steady drumbeat against my ribs.
The footsteps drew closer. "Caroline!"
Safarat placed a hand on my shoulder. "You know him?" she asked, her tone sharp with disapproval.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to — Phillip was already standing there, smiling at me like he hadn't noticed the sudden tension in the air.
"Caroline, dear," he said gently, "we had plans today, remember?"
Phillip — my boyfriend. Three months together. Sweet, simple, and good-hearted. He wasn't rich, and that was enough reason for my friends to hate him.
They said I could do better. Meaning: richer.
I kept seeing him in secret — lunches between classes, short walks, long talks that made me laugh more than anyone else ever had.
But now, standing in front of my friends, the air between us felt like a wall.
Quenlet crossed her arms. "Caroline, seriously? You're still seeing this guy?"
Phillip's smile faltered. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Quenlet said, stepping closer, "that she knows the rules. No dating broke campus boys."
Phillip looked from her to me, confusion and hurt shadowing his eyes.
"Caroline?" he asked softly.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight.
Safarat chimed in, "You need to end this — now."
Lovett folded her arms, voice calm but firm. "Say something he won't forgive. That way, he'll walk away."
I turned to her in disbelief. "What if he gets angry?"
"Do you want to be with us or with him?" Cynthia cut in, cold and certain.
My chest ached. I looked at Phillip — the boy who made me feel seen — and then at the girls who made me feel safe.
And I knew what they expected me to do.
Phillip must've read my hesitation because he stepped back slightly, shaking his head. "Guess it's bad timing," he said quietly.
"Phillip, wait—"
He turned as if to leave, but I blurted, "Wait!"
He stopped. Hope flickered in his eyes. "Did you change your mind?"
I forced a smile I didn't feel. "You wish."
I took a shaky breath and said the words that shattered me as I spoke them.
"Don't call me again, Phillip. I'm not yours. I'll never be yours. I don't date guys who can't afford to dream bigger than this."
The words spilled out faster than my heart could catch them.
His face went blank. Not angry, not sad — just empty. And somehow, that hurt more.
I wanted him to see through the lie, to see how much I didn't mean it. But he just nodded once, quiet and steady, before turning away.
I wiped my tears quickly before anyone could notice.
Behind me, I heard his friends laughing, and the sound sliced right through me.
Safarat exhaled. "Wow. You actually said that."
Lovett looked at me, frowning slightly. "Be careful. Some guys take words like that as a challenge."
"Please," Quenlet said with a smirk. "If he ever gets rich, maybe then he can try again."
Everyone laughed. Even me — though it came out hollow and forced.
The Uber finally arrived, and as we climbed in, I couldn't bring myself to look back.
My heart felt heavy, like I'd left a piece of it standing on that quiet street beside him.
That day, I crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
And I never saw Phillip again.
---
✨ End of Prologue
thing you could use for your synopsis or online description.