Dare to Burn

They say you can tell a lot about someone by how they spend their Friday nights. Most girls my age are out living their best lives, collecting memories and making mistakes. Me? I'm usually buried in textbooks, chasing that elusive scholarship that might be my ticket out of here.

I'm Harper West—the perpetual good girl. The studious one. The responsible one.

At least, that's who I was until tonight.

"Hold still," Alex commanded, wielding an eyeliner pencil like a weapon. "You're worse than a toddler."

I grimaced but obeyed. After losing Dad to cancer three years ago, I'd retreated into myself, focusing solely on grades and helping Mom make ends meet. My former friends had shown their true colors then, using Dad's death as ammunition in their cruel jokes. Only Alex had stuck around, refusing to let me completely disappear into my shell.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Take a look."

I turned toward the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. The emerald dress Alex had practically forced me into hugged curves I usually kept hidden under baggy sweaters and jeans. My pale blonde hair remained in its practical bun—I'd drawn the line at wearing it down—but somehow looked elegant rather than severe.

"I look..." I trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"Hot," Alex finished for me, grinning triumphantly. "You look hot, Harper. Own it."

I pressed my palms to my flushed cheeks. "The dress is too short."

"It's perfect," Alex insisted. "Noah won't be able to take his eyes off me with you as my wingwoman."

I bit back a sigh. Noah Parker—the sole reason I'd agreed to this makeover and party expedition. Alex had been crushing on him since freshman year, despite my warnings about his reputation. Being best friends with Julian Blaze, Evergreen High's resident bad boy, was enough to make Noah guilty by association in my book.

"You really think tonight's the night?" I asked, trying to sound supportive rather than skeptical.

Alex's honey-brown eyes sparkled with determination. "It has to be. Senior year's almost over, and I'm running out of chances."

I squeezed her hand. "Then let's make it count."

What I didn't say: Noah Parker doesn't deserve you. Guys like him don't notice sweet, genuine girls unless they're looking for homework help.

But tonight wasn't about my opinions. It was about being there for the one person who'd been there for me when I needed it most.

The house vibrated with bass that seemed to pulse through the floorboards. Bodies packed every available space, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and something distinctly alcoholic. I'd never felt more out of place.

"There he is!" Alex shouted over the music, spotting Noah across the room. "Wish me luck!"

Before I could respond, she vanished into the crowd, leaving me stranded in a sea of people I recognized from school hallways but had never actually spoken to.

This was a mistake.

I edged my way along the wall, trying to look like I belonged while scanning for any familiar face. Through a gap in the crowd, I spotted Julian Blaze holding court in the living room, surrounded by his usual entourage. His dark curls fell carelessly across his forehead as he laughed at something someone said. I'd never understood the appeal—sure, he had the whole brooding, green-eyed bad boy thing going on, but his arrogance canceled out any attractiveness.

Where Julian was, Noah couldn't be far. Maybe Alex had found him already. Maybe she was finally confessing her feelings. My stomach knotted at the thought of how that conversation might be going.

The air grew thicker, harder to breathe. I needed space. Needed quiet. Needed to not be here.

I pushed through the kitchen, ignoring curious glances, and found a sliding door leading to a back patio. The cool night air hit my face like a blessing as I stepped outside, drawing a deep breath that didn't taste like other people's exhalations.

"Harper? Is that you?"

I turned to find Violet Jenkins perched on a patio chair, her cheerleading uniform replaced by a sequined top and jeans. We'd worked together on a few school projects—she wasn't as superficial as most people assumed.

"Hey, Violet," I managed a smile. "Needed some air."

"Same. It's a madhouse in there." She patted the chair beside her. "You look amazing, by the way. Alex's handiwork?"

I nodded, about to respond when a stumbling figure crashed into me. Cold liquid splashed across my chest, soaking the front of my dress.

"Shit! My bad," slurred the guy, steadying himself against the railing. His glazed eyes barely focused on me before he collapsed into a nearby chair.

Violet winced sympathetically. "Bathroom's down the hall on the right. Want me to come help?"

"I've got it," I assured her, though inside I was screaming. The dress—Alex's dress—was probably ruined, and I had nothing else to wear.

I navigated back through the party, clutching my arms across my chest to hide the worst of the stain. The bathroom door was partially ajar, the lock visibly broken. Great. I'd have to be quick.

I dampened paper towels and dabbed at the stain, but it only seemed to spread. Frustration welled up as I stared at my reflection. This night couldn't get any worse.

The universe, apparently taking that as a challenge, chose that moment to prove me wrong.

The door swung open, and the same drunk guy from the patio stumbled in. His bloodshot eyes narrowed as he registered my presence.

"Well, hello there," he slurred, blocking the exit. "Didn't get to properly apologize outside."

Something in his tone made my skin crawl. "It's fine. I was just leaving."

He moved closer, the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes overwhelming. "Don't rush off. Party's just getting started."

His hand shot out, fingers digging into my bare arm. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone at a party."

Panic rose in my throat. "Please let go."

"We're just gonna have some fun," he insisted, his other hand reaching for my waist.

I squeezed my eyes shut, mind racing for a way out. Then suddenly, the pressure on my arm vanished. A thud, followed by the sound of fists connecting with flesh, made me snap my eyes open.

A blur of motion had the drunk pinned against the wall. Fists flew in rapid succession, each blow punctuated by a grunt. Through my shock, I recognized the back of a dark, curly head.

Julian Blaze was beating the living daylights out of my harasser.

"Stop!" I cried out, finding my voice. "You'll kill him!"

Julian didn't acknowledge me, continuing his assault with mechanical precision.

"Julian! That's enough!" I grabbed his arm mid-swing, using all my strength to pull him back.

The drunk guy seized the opportunity, scrambling past us and out the door.

Julian whirled around, his forest-green eyes blazing with an intensity that made me step back. Recognition flickered across his face as he took me in.

"What the hell are you doing in the men's bathroom?" he demanded.

I blinked, momentarily speechless. Of all the things to focus on right now...

"The men's...?" I glanced around, noticing for the first time the urinal in the corner. "I didn't—I was just trying to clean my dress—"

Julian scoffed, shaking out his hand where the knuckles were already bruising. "Next time, check the sign before you hide out. Could've gotten yourself in real trouble."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "You okay?"

The question caught me off guard. "I—yes. Thank you."

He nodded once, then his expression hardened back to its usual arrogance. "Whatever. Tell your friend Alex that Noah's not interested, by the way. Save her the embarrassment."

With that parting shot, he disappeared, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the lingering question of why Julian Blaze, of all people, had come to my rescue.

And how he knew my best friend's name.