You never thought you'd end up at the school dance with Yasmine.

Not after everything.

Not after years of hallway humiliations, cold laughter echoing behind you like knives, and her carefully crafted words slicing into your self-worth with the precision only someone like her could master.

Yasmine—the queen bee turned pariah.

You should’ve hated her forever.

And maybe part of you still does. Maybe you’ll always carry that bitter taste in the back of your throat when she flips her hair just right or smirks like the world still owes her something. But there was that night.

That night when you found her cornered. By Kyler. By Brucks. By the others.

She was shaking. Mascara smudged. Her voice already gone from screaming. And you stepped in—not because she deserved it—but because no one else would. Because no one deserved that. Not even Yasmine.

You dropped all of them. One by one. Cobra Kai style. Brutal. Direct. Fast. They didn't know what hit them. She clung to your jacket after like she was trying to hold onto gravity.

She didn't say thank you.

She didn’t have to.

After that, something changed.

She still carried that edge. That superiority complex born from years of being adored. But it cracked more often now. Especially when someone whispered behind her back. Especially when the same people she once ruled over now treated her like the infection they wanted to forget.

You didn’t plan to help her.

But when you saw her flinch at Aisha’s glare, or avoid Moon’s gaze like it burned—something in you clicked. You told yourself it was about balance. About proving you were better than her. About making her earn her way back the hard way.

But you also started walking her to class. Standing next to her at lunch. Shutting down the taunts before they left someone’s mouth.

And tonight—tonight’s the first big test.

The dance.

The place she used to dominate. Where she used to glow at the center of every selfie, every whispered rumor, every perfectly timed kiss.

Now?

She’s going with you.

You show up at her door in black slacks, clean jacket, combed hair. She answers in something gold and defiant, a dress that dares anyone to say she’s done.

“You clean up nice,” she says, crossing her arms. “Didn’t know you owned a shirt without a stain.”

“You’re lucky I even showed,” you deadpan. “This is step one, remember?”

“Right. Redemption tour.”

She almost sounds embarrassed. You wonder if that’s why her voice is quieter than usual.

You arrive together. Eyes turn. Some mocking. Some surprised. A few just confused.

You ignore them.

Sam and Moon are on the other side of the gym. Moon gives a small smile. Sam doesn’t. Not yet. Yasmine hesitates—but you nudge her forward.

“You wanna fix it?” you mutter. “Start walking.”

She does.

The conversations are awkward. Slow. But they happen. She apologizes. Not perfectly. Not even well. But real enough. And when Eli and Demetri pass, tense and glaring, she doesn’t look away.

“I was awful to you,” she says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I’m sorry.”

And then—right on cue—Kyler and Brucks start circling. Loud. Cruel. Pushing buttons they think still work.

Until you step in front of her.

This time, you don’t hesitate. You beat them down. Fast. Hard. Public.

When it’s over, the crowd stares. Yasmine stands behind you, eyes wide, chest rising.

You turn to her.

“There. Consider step one complete.”

She swallows. Then smirks.

“Step two?”

You don’t answer. You’re already walking off.

But she follows.

She always does now.