DRAWN TO LOVE

Chapter 27-28

Tami POV

It had taken Lola a week of texts, calls, and even showing up unannounced at my door to finally convince me to attend the party. I had refused at first—loud music, people staring, was never my thing—but Lola was relentless.

“Tami, come on! Just one night. You can stay in the corner if you want, no pressure,” she said, pacing in my living room. Her dark hair bounced as she gestured dramatically. “You’ll regret it if you don’t go. Seriously!”

I groaned, sinking further into the couch. “I don’t know… I don’t feel like… all that attention.”

“That’s exactly why you need to go. You’re perfect for blending in, having fun, and still keeping yourself safe. I’ll be right there the whole time,” she said, eyes sparkling with her usual mischievous energy.

Finally, I relented. “Fine. One night. But I’m keeping a low profile. No drama.”

On the night of the party, Lola arrived at my house a little early, the engine of her red Lexus humming in the driveway. “Move it, Tami! Time’s wasting!” she called. She jumped out and held up a small bundle. “Brought some extras. Just in case you need them.”

I peeked at the pile in her arms—tops, skirts, and some accessories. “Extras?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! In case what you planned doesn’t work or you just want a little change. Trust me,” she said with a wink.

I gave a hesitant nod. My mother had already reminded me earlier that evening, “Tami, you can wear something nice, but keep it modest. Confidence comes from your eyes, your posture…Keep it tasteful, let them see your best self.” I had nodded obediently, smoothing my clothes and tugging at the hem of my soft, loose top.

In my room, I changed into a simple but flattering outfit: a soft blouse that skimmed over my curves without clinging too tightly, and a skirt that flared gently at the hips. Even as a chubby girl, I wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin, and my mother’s advice lingered in my mind. I adjusted the blouse and skirt, giving myself a small, nervous smile in the mirror.

Lola leaned against my doorframe, holding out one of her tops. “Try this too, just for fun. It’ll look cute.” I shook my head, laughing softly. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, still grinning. “Now, let’s go before the crowd swallows us whole.”

The drive to the party was quiet, except for Lola’s occasional commentary about how everyone there would look and act. When we arrived, groups of students were already gathered outside, music vibrating faintly through the air. I felt my chest tighten as my nerves flared. I was hyper-aware of my curves, the way my soft arms jiggled as I moved, the fullness of my thighs beneath the skirt. The weight of every glance from strangers made my stomach twist.

Inside, the house pulsed with energy. Colored lights threw shadows across the walls, and the bass of the music made the floor thrum under my feet. I clutched my bag tightly, letting Lola guide me through the crowd.

“Relax, Tami. I’m right here. If anything happens, we leave. Got it?” she whispered.

I nodded, but my eyes couldn’t help scanning the room. That’s when I saw her—Brittney. Leaning casually against a wall, she had that sly, calculating smile I remembered all too well. Her eyes quickly found me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Lola noticed immediately. “Ignore her. Don’t give her the satisfaction. She thrives on reactions.”

But Brittney won't stop staring.

A couple of students came over to me, offering drinks and gestures that suggested I move away from Lola’s side. My stomach sank. I could feel the tension building.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, keeping my distance. “I’m just here with my friend.”

And then I noticed him—Oliver. He hadn’t seen me yet, but he moved through the crowd with that confident ease, laughing and greeting people, drawing attention without even trying. My chest tightened, and I ducked slightly behind Lola. I wasn’t ready to face him just yet.

Brittney’s eyes, however, were not on him. They were on me. Her smirk widened as she whispered to one of her friends, and I realized with a sinking feeling that she was planning something. Her influence over the crowd was subtle but undeniable. As if she were trying to lure me somewhere, to isolate me.

Within moments, a tall guy approached me, holding a drink and leaning in too closely.

“Here, try this,” he said, offering the cup. His smile was friendly, but his eyes were sharp, assessing. I hesitated. Something in my gut screamed that this wasn’t right. But before I could step away, Brittney’s voice floated through the crowd, teasing, “Go on, Tami, it’ll be fun!”

I took the drink hesitantly, feeling a strange warmth spread through my hands. The music throbbed louder in my ears, but suddenly, a heavy fatigue hit me, a dizzy haze clouding my vision. The room seemed to tilt, the lights stretching into blurs of color. I staggered slightly, clutching my bag for balance.

“Hey, are you okay?” a voice asked, distant yet concerned. I tried to respond, but my words slurred. My knees felt weak. Realizing I’d been drugged.

I looked around hoping to catch sight of Lola but she was nowhere in sight. My friend had gone to chat with other classmates, leaving me alone in the crowded, pulsating room. My chest tightened as I spotted Brittney across the room, watching me with a sharp, satisfied gleam in her eyes. She had orchestrated this.

My mind spun. I had been cautious, trying to blend in, stay near the edges, and yet here I was—trapped and vulnerable. Panic made my heart pound faster than the music. I clutched my bag to my chest, willing the dizziness to pass, wishing Lola had stayed nearby.

The next few minutes were a blur. People brushed past me, voices muffled, laughter distant. I leaned against a table, trying to focus, to fight against the drugged haze. I could see Oliver moving through the crowd in the distance, his confident stride pulling attention even from across the room. But my vision swirled, and I could barely make out faces.

Brittney’s smirk haunted me. She had wanted me isolated, away from Lola, and she had succeeded. The thought of her hand in this, orchestrating everything, made my stomach churn. I realized I had to stay calm, try to keep my footing, and somehow get help without drawing attention from the wrong people.

I took a shaky breath, willing my body to obey. Even as the room tilted and swirled around me, I repeated my mother’s advice: “Confidence comes from your posture. Stand tall. Eyes forward. You can control yourself, even when the world seems against you.”

Somehow, inch by inch, I managed to hold myself upright, even as the haze tugged at my consciousness. I knew I needed help—but from whom? Lola was too far, too unaware, and I didn’t know who in this crowd could be trusted. Every glance felt like a threat, every step a risk.

And in that moment, a single thought solidified in my mind: I could not let Brittney win. Not tonight, not ever.