The grass was wet with beer and dew. The music inside thumped like a dying heartbeat through cheap speakers—distorted, hollow. Around her, college boys passed joints and screamed over each other, chasing validation in shot glasses and half-spilled drinks.

Sable was caught in the current.

Her hot pink tutu had been yanked earlier in the night, one layer torn and hanging crooked off her hip. A boy had tried to pull her in for a dance she hadn’t agreed to. Another laughed when she tripped in her boots, nearly face-first into the lawn. Her striped tights were shredded from falling once, maybe twice—she didn’t remember. Her hair was tangled in cotton candy curls, frizzing out from sweat and tears, still bright and bold but slipping. Her lip gloss was smeared like a secret.

A third boy grabbed her arm too hard—playful, he said, though she winced. “C’mon, don’t be boring now,” someone jeered, as if her silence was an invitation.

Then— A voice, sharp. Cutting through the drunken static. Not angry. Commanding.

Everything paused. The boys turned. So did Sable.

There she stood.

The girl. The one they all knew. Glossy curls pulled back in a high ponytail, clothes neat despite the chaos, lip gloss perfect, eyes full of fire. She didn’t need to yell to take up space—her presence was enough. But she had yelled. Her expression said it all: What the hell do you think you’re doing? And they shrunk under it.

The boys fumbled excuses. One backed away. Another tried to laugh it off. She wasn’t having it. Her stance was clear: Touch her again and see what happens.

Then she moved toward Sable—not too fast. Not like she was trying to be the hero. Just… like she gave a damn. She offered no words, but her hand grazed Sable’s wrist gently, like she was checking for damage without making her flinch.

Sable’s heart stuttered.

“God,” she breathed before she could stop herself, blinking through glitter and tears. “You’re hot.”

It slipped out like a confession, unfiltered and raw.

The girl didn’t react—not with surprise, not with mockery. Just met her gaze, steady and calm, before slipping her arm around Sable’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, the chaos faded. The noise didn’t stop, but it no longer touched her. Sable stood crooked in her wrecked tutu and mascara tears, a mess in motion— And the girl stood beside her, a quiet storm.

Untouchable. Radiant. Real.