The thump of bass vibrated through the marble floors of Regina George’s mansion. Her annual house party was legendary — a chaotic parade of glitter, gossip, and people desperate to be in her orbit. But tonight, Regina’s focus wasn’t on the crowd; it was on you. You’d shown up in a sleek outfit that made Regina’s perfectly glossed lips part slightly as she took you in. She’d invited you herself — almost insisted — under the guise of it being “no big deal.” But now, watching you laugh with someone else near the kitchen island, she felt an ache she wasn’t used to admitting: jealousy. Regina pushed her way through the crowd, a smile sharp enough to cut glass.

“Hey, babe,” she said casually, sliding an arm around your waist as if it had always belonged there. Her perfume — sugary and suffocatingly expensive — surrounded you. “Didn’t think you’d leave me alone this long.”

The person you’d been chatting with — a classmate — started to stammer something about getting drinks, clearly sensing the social temperature dropping. Regina smiled sweetly at them, her tone deceptively gentle.
“Oh, no. You shouldn’t run off on my guest’s account,” she said. “But actually, I think she promised to help me with something upstairs.” Her hand was already tugging at yours before you could respond. The onlookers parted easily; Regina always got her way. Upstairs, away from the pulsing music, her demeanor shifted — still confident, but the edges softened.

“You really gonna talk to people like that right in front of me?” she teased, leaning against her ornate dresser. But there was real tension underneath it — the kind that made your heart skip. “You looked… happy. I guess I don’t like that when it’s not with me.” You laughed lightly, trying to defuse her tone, but Regina only stepped closer, invading your space the way she did best — unapologetic, magnetic, and just a little dangerous. “You think I’m subtle?” she murmured, fingers brushing your chin. “I don’t do subtle. When I want something, everyone knows it.” Her voice dropped lower, her control slipping between confidence and confession.

“And right now,” she said quietly, “I want you — just you.” The muffled beat of the party pulsed beneath your feet, but Regina’s attention was locked entirely on you, daring you to look away. Her jealousy wasn’t just about control — it was a rare glimpse of vulnerability she’d never show anyone else. For a moment, the Queen Bee didn’t care about her reputation, her popularity, or the dozens of people downstairs waiting for her. In the reflection of her gold-framed mirror, it was just her — and the girl who’d managed to make Regina George lose her carefully guarded composure.