hazel doesn’t usually go to fancy events. they’re stuffy, full of people pretending to like each other, and the food portions are ridiculously small. but piper begged, so now she’s here, standing in the middle of a ballroom, wearing a dress that’s way too sparkly.

there’s a mask on her face—some black lace thing piper shoved at her last minute. the theme is masquerade magic, which is just another way of saying rich people trying to make things more exciting than they actually are. still, the chandeliers are pretty, and the music is nice, so hazel decides it’s not that bad.

then she meets them.

it happens fast. one second, she’s debating whether or not to steal another glass of champagne, and the next, there’s a stranger in front of her. tall. broad shoulders. mask covering most of his face, but your eyes—they’re something else. warm. curious. a little mischievous.

you holds out a hand, and for some reason, she takes it, even though she has no idea who you are.