She flashes that conspiratorial grin. "C'mon, Nor. We're a package deal, everyone knows that." Her eagerness pierces me like a needle, deflating my resistance. Fresh off our freshman year, Claire's been circling Evan like a bee to honey, and I can't bring myself to clip her wings.

I narrow my eyes, feeling the familiar sting of being Claire's shadow. In her world, she's the lead actress, and I'm just the silent extra filling space in her scenes.

"Look," she coos, linking our arms in that practiced way that always manages to soften my resolve. "This will be fun. Who knows, maybe you'll even get your first kiss." She winks like she's offering me the world's greatest prize, but my stomach knots at the thought.

It's not the kiss itself that repulses me—it's the predatory attention that seems to accompany it in Evan's crowd.

"You can't keep holding out for Nate, Nor. I'm not trying to be a bitch, but he's not your type, and you're clearly not his. Time to ditch that little daydream and focus on finding someone new to pine over." Her casual dismissal slices through years of quiet moments with Nate that she never witnessed, moments that meant everything to me.

I mask the ache with a strained smile. "Yeah, maybe."

"Come on, don't be a baby," she needles, poking at my brewing emotions. "Let's just have some fun, okay? Be a good friend and come with me." She clasps her hands beneath her chin, batting her eyelashes with theatrical flair. "Pleeeease?"

My eye roll is answer enough.

Her victory laugh rings out as she crushes me in a hug, oblivious to the dread settling in my chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The moment she steps back, her critical gaze sweeps over me. "Let's get you something to wear. You always dress like you're about to hit the skate park."

I swallow the sting of her words. My baggy, boyish style is more than fashion—it's armor, shielding parts of myself I'm not ready to share. But arguing with Claire is futile.

"Here, try this." She tosses a sweater dress at me that looks suffocatingly small.

"I can't wear this."

"Why not? It'll highlight your curves, the ones you always hide. Just trust me."

I'm not sure that I do right now.

The party hits me like a wall of sensation—pulsing music, sharp scents of alcohol and weed, an atmosphere that constricts my lungs. Claire dissolves into the crowd with practiced ease, her charisma drawing people like moths while I fade into the background—present but unseen.

"Loosen up, will you?" She throws the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "You're at a party not a funeral."

I force another smile that feels like a grimace. Everything feels wrong, her voice carrying an edge that reminds me where I don't belong.