Sophia stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection, her heart racing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” she muttered to herself, disbelief lacing her voice. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against the fabric of the dress Sara had chosen for her—a deep emerald green that hugged her curves just right. It was unlike her to dress up for anything, especially for someone like Alex, but tonight felt different.
“You’re lucky,” Sara chimed in from the other side of the room, rummaging through the closet for accessories. “Not everyone gets a concert dedicated to them by Clara Jean, you know.”
“Lucky?” Sophia echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Or just plain crazy? I mean, he’s the one who hurt me, and now he’s throwing this over-the-top concert to win me back.” She
