—
The persistent knocking drew me out of the dreamland. My eyes fluttered open as the room came into focus. I shifted and felt a weight against my left hand. Turning my head, I froze. He was sitting beside the bed, his head resting on the edge, eyes still closed but starting to stir.
“Marcus?” I whispered. Did he sleep here? What exactly happened last night?
I remembered feeling tired, then closing my eyes… I must’ve fallen asleep at that point. My hand was wrapped around his, my fingers tightly clasped, like I hadn’t wanted to let go even in sleep. Did I really hold his hand as I slept? Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Another round of knocks followed, and a familiar voice called through the door, “Hazel! Open up, come on!”
Marcus lifted his head groggily, blinking at me with a half-awake expression, and I quickly pulled my hand away, clutching it to my chest.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning,” I said softly, still flustered.
My eyes lingered on him. His hair was mussed on one side from where he’d lain, with a faint crease on his cheek. It was the first time I’d seen him like this. And it was… something.
The knocking resumed, more insistent this time.
“I’ll get it,” Marcus said, heading to the door.
I tested my ankle and winced as sharp pain shot up my leg. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was clear I wouldn’t be walking normally anytime soon.
“Marcus?” Diya’s voice came from the hallway, surprise clear. “What are you doing here?” Even without seeing her, I could imagine that cheeky smile. “Don’t tell me you actually slept here!” she teased, laughing.
I bristled at her assumption. If only she knew the truth. Still, it made me wonder—how would I feel if Marcus spent the night in her room? Technically, there wasn’t a rule against it, but with the school’s strict atmosphere, it always felt… implied.
“But—” Diya began, but I couldn’t make out Marcus’s reply; the only thing I knew was that she sounded pissed. Then her voice rang out, sharp. “Hazel, how could you let Marcus sleep in your room?!”
She burst into the room, but all the fire and anger drained from her face the moment she saw me. The plastic bag in her hand slipped to the floor with a soft thud.
“What happened to you?” she asked, her voice suddenly gentle.
Without hesitation, she rushed to my side and sat on the edge of the bed. I glanced at my ankle, still propped up on a pillow.
“I just sprained it,” I said.
Diya leaned in, taking my hand. “How?”
Before I could answer, Marcus re-entered and sat in the desk chair. He looked at me and said, “We should probably tell her what’s going on.”
Diya turned to him and only nodded before her gaze snapped back to me. “Tell me.”
I sighed, and we explained everything about how the night had unfolded.
“I get it now,” she said at last, her voice distant, colder than I’d ever heard it.
“You got hurt,” she replied quietly. I couldn’t argue, as she had a point. Still, Marcus had promised to handle the situation, and I trusted him. “The Purity Group,” she muttered, glancing at Marcus. She opened her mouth, but he raised a hand first.
“I’ll be careful.”
The conviction in his voice seemed to calm her. She took a deep breath, her words fading before they could be spoken.
I decided to break the tension. “Diya, what’s in the bag?”
She blinked, as if pulled from her thoughts, then looked down at it before glancing back at me.
“Oh… that,” she said, her usual energetic tone conspicuously absent. She picked up the bag and placed it on the bed. “I brought some makeup accessories… and a guide.”
“A guide?” I frowned. “Diya, I know how to apply makeup. You know that.”
Makeup wasn’t something I often wore, but when I did, it was for formal events, and I kept it simple.
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“It’s not for makeup,” she said, shaking her head as she held up the book. “It’s a guide on how to enjoy yourself at a party.”
I stared, dumbfounded. “What?”
Diya’s lips twitched. Before I could react, Marcus burst into laughter. Diya glanced at him, and soon enough, she couldn’t hold back either, doubling over, laughing until she fell to the floor.
“You… you think this is funny, don’t you?” I asked, glaring as they both laughed. Diya clutched her stomach, and Marcus turned away in a failed attempt to stifle his laughter. Despite myself, I felt a grin forming.
“What did I do to deserve this?” I muttered.
“Well, I should get going,” Marcus said, standing.
Diya’s laughter faded. She looked up at him, her expression sincere. “Thanks for taking care of her; I’m really grateful. I’ll take it from here.”
He nodded, giving me one last glance. “Get some rest,” he said, leaving before I could say anything.
“Now then,” Diya said, brushing herself off. “Let’s get you an ice pack for that ankle.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching as she walked over to the fridge. I realised I hadn’t checked my phone since waking up, so I reached for it while she rummaged through the supplies.
“What?” I murmured, blinking at the screen. It was already 1 p.m. How did we sleep this long? Then I remembered it was the painkiller from last night. It must’ve caused drowsiness. That explained why I passed out so quickly.
“What time is the party?” I asked.
Diya froze, then turned to face me like I’d lost my mind. “Don’t tell me you’re still planning to go.”
“Of course I am,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But I’ll need your help.”
—
—
As vibrant lights flickered over the walls, music throbbed through the dimly lit event space, its rhythm pulsing in my chest. The venue, a mid-sized hall in a city hotel, buzzed with lively chatter from about thirty people. I sat at a round table tucked in the corner, sharing it with Diya and two upperclassmen I vaguely recognised but had never spoken to directly.
About half an hour had passed since we arrived. Despite my injured leg, I’d made an effort to greet as many people as possible. While mingling earlier, I’d spotted someone I’d hoped to avoid: Robin. Leaning against a high-top table, he was across the room, laughing and gesturing animatedly with a group. With him here, I needed to tread carefully, especially in conversations involving him.
At the centre of the room stood the host of the event, the birthday girl herself. She was the undeniable star of the evening, surrounded by a throng of admirers vying for her attention. Any hope of catching her alone would have to wait.
“You don’t like the drink?” Diya’s voice pulled me back to the table. She nodded toward the mocktail she had ordered for both of us; its contents were an icy blue with flecks of mint and berries floating near the top.
“It’s fine,” I said, taking a small sip and not particularly loving or hating it. “Why did you pick this one, though?”
“No real reason. It just looked pretty,” she replied with a grin, finishing hers.
“Did you like it?” I asked.
She nodded enthusiastically, setting the glass down and resting her chin on her hand. “Anyway, what’s with the interrogation? It’s just a drink.”
“I’m just curious, that’s all. But why are you sitting here, Diya?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not exactly the sit-still-at-a-party type. Usually, you’re off chatting with everyone.”
Diya was the definition of a social butterfly, and seeing her just sitting here idly was strangely unnerving. She leaned forward, her tone softening. “My best friend’s injured. How could I leave you here and go off to have fun? I’m here to make sure you have a good time…even if you came for other reasons.”
“You don’t have to hold yourself back for me.”
“Never think you’re holding me back or that I’m forcing myself to do this,” Diya said firmly. “That’s not the case, alright? It never has been.”
It was rare to see Diya so serious, and every time I did, it caught me off guard. I felt a pang of guilt because deep down, I had been worrying about just that.
“Besides,” she added, “I’m here to help you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I had only asked Diya to assist me if I needed help moving around, to avoid putting too much strain on my leg.
Suddenly, she stood up, brushing her dress and strolled over to the group gathered around Hoshi-senpai and, within moments, had seamlessly joined their conversation. Her laughter rang out as if she’d been part of it from the start. I couldn’t help but marvel at how easily she blended in.
After a few minutes, Diya returned. She stopped in front of me, her expression unreadable, and held out her hand.
“Come on,” she said.
I blinked up at her. “What’s going on?”
“Just trust me,” she said, shaking her outstretched hand to emphasise her point. “It’ll be worth it in the end.”
Though I had no idea what she was planning, I took her hand. She helped me to my feet, matching her pace to my limp without hesitation. We stepped into the quieter reception area, where the noise of the party faded into a soft hum. She led me to a small sitting area, and we sat down.
“Diya, what exactly are we doing here?”
As if on cue, Hoshi-senpai appeared from the hallway. As she arrived, her shoulders drooped slightly, and she exhaled heavily, her hand running through her hair as she plopped down into the chair across from me.
“Hazel,” she said with a tired but warm smile. “We met briefly earlier, didn’t we? I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you.”
She laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not bothering me.” She glanced at Diya. “Though, I hear you came here for a reason, even with an injury.”
I turned to Diya, who smiled and winked. I smiled back; I definitely owed her something nice.
“Yes, I did,” I said, facing Hoshi-senpai again. “If you don’t mind.”
She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “Go ahead. This isn’t exactly a private space, but it’ll do.”
“Robin challenged my class to a competition during the cultural festival. I came to ask for your help and support.” I expressed my intentions as best as I could in a concise manner.
“That’s… intriguing,” she said at last. “Robin’s always been competitive, so I can’t say I’m surprised. He lives for challenges that let him show off. Since it’s our last year, I suppose he’s looking to make it memorable. Me, though…” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed, looking away. “I just want to relax these last few months, you know? Take it easy for once.”
“I understand,” I said, masking my disappointment. “I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”
But I could tell she wasn’t finished.
“I could’ve just told Diya this earlier when she asked,” she admitted, “but I didn’t.”
Which meant, despite her reluctance, she still had something to offer. Diya giggled softly beside me; I could tell she was pleased with herself.