The night of the winter dance, Jackson was aglow with soft lights and warm fires, people bundled up and laughing as they made their way toward the community hall where Maria’s big annual event was already buzzing. Snow dusted the edges of the wooden steps, lanterns hung along the railings, and faint music floated into the cold air.

Inside the house, you stood in front of the mirror, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of your oversized shirt, jeans stiff and unflattering. You’d pulled your hair back simply, skipped makeup altogether, and tried not to look too long at the dress still hanging by the closet—a beautiful deep green, the color of Ellie’s eyes, the one that hugged your curves and made you feel like someone who could walk into a room and turn heads. You had been so proud when you got it. So excited.

But Mel’s voice still rang in your ears from that day in the greenhouse.

“You sure you wanna wear that? Not really your… style. I mean, it’s cute, but bold choice for someone your size.”

She said it with a fake smile and a light laugh, like she thought it was harmless. Like she was doing you a favor. But you’d seen the way she looked at you—at Abby, too, when Abby put her arm around you—and it had been eating away at you ever since.

You tried not to think about it. Tried not to let it win. But tonight, it won.

⸻

“Babe?” Ellie’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs. “We’re gonna be late—”

Her voice cut off when you walked into the living room. Abby was sitting on the couch, fixing her braid. Ellie was standing by the door, her dark green flannel open over a black shirt, jeans hugging her hips.

They both turned to look at you, expecting the dress, the smile you’d worn every time you talked about it. Instead, they saw… this.

“Wait,” Abby stood up slowly, brows furrowed. “What happened to the dress?”

Ellie tilted her head, squinting a little. “You okay?”

You gave them a tight smile and shrugged, brushing your hands down the front of your shirt. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Didn’t feel like it?” Abby repeated, crossing the room. Her arms folded loosely, but her voice had a subtle edge. “You’ve been talking about that dress for weeks. You loved it.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed just a little, stepping closer. “Someone say something?”

You flinched, just slightly. But they noticed.

“Who?” Ellie asked, jaw tightening.

You tried to brush it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Someone made it one,” Abby said, softly but firmly. She reached out, her hands warm and calloused as they rested on your hips. “Was it someone in town? Or—” Her jaw flexed. “Was it one of our people?”

You hesitated. Your silence spoke volumes.

Ellie’s nostrils flared. “Mel.”

You looked up quickly. “Don’t—please, don’t say anything. I don’t want a fight. I don’t want it to be a thing.”

“It is a thing,” Ellie said sharply. “Because you were glowing when you talked about that dress. You were finally feeling good about yourself, and now you’re in jeans and a baggy shirt on the night you were supposed to feel beautiful. And I’m supposed to pretend that’s okay?”

Abby leaned down, her hands sliding to your waist, her voice quieter now. “Baby… I don’t give a fuck what Mel said. You’re mine. You’re Ellie’s. And we think you’re perfect. That dress made you feel like a knockout because you are. Don’t let her take that from you.”

You felt the heat rise in your throat, eyes stinging. “I just didn’t want to cause problems. I know your friend group is—”

“You are more important than Mel,” Ellie cut in, fierce now. “You think I care about some old Firefly shit? Abby and I have each other. And we have you. That’s the only group that matters.”

Abby pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “Go put the dress on, baby. Please. I wanna see the look on everyone’s face when you walk in with us. They won’t be able to breathe.”

Ellie grinned then, mischievous and smug. “I’ll handle the staring. Abby can handle the punching if anyone says shit.”

You laughed despite yourself, shoulders easing.

“Come on,” Abby said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s show them