Web: The game of Hearts

Episode 3 -When Worlds Collide

Mary’s POV

Grrr. The knock on my door jolted me out of sleep. It was almost midnight.

“Who the hell could that be?” I muttered, dragging myself to the door.

The second I cracked it open, Emma’s big, mischievous eyes popped into view. She didn’t wait for me to invite her in—she just shoved her way inside. Claire trailed behind her, both of them dressed in black, skimpy skirt that hugged their hips and crop tops that flashed a little cleavage and toned stomach. From one look, it was obvious—they were dressed to kill.

“Why are you still in this?” Emma demanded, flopping onto my bed and giving my oversized T-shirt a dramatic once-over.

“I don’t think I’m going,” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I need to rest. Parties can wait.”

Emma gasped like I’d just confessed a crime. “Nah, you are so going. All the hot guys are gonna be there.”

“Who misses their first college party?” Claire chimed in, grinning. “And guess who’s hosting?”

“David Da King,” Emma cut in, practically squealing. “The hottest guy in school. You cannot miss this.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care about David Da King or whoever. I’m not ready to hang around boys right now.”

Emma waved me off like I hadn’t spoken. “No, no, no—you are ready. Look at you. You might be the hottest girl on campus already. Did you see those guys drooling when we walked past today? Even Serena from Gossip Girl didn’t pull that kind of attention.”

“I’m not Serena,” I wanted to say. But the words stuck in my throat. With Emma and Claire, it was always a losing battle.

“Perfect,” Emma said suddenly, eyeing me with satisfaction. “You’re stunning. If I were into girls, I’d kiss you right now.”

Claire giggled. “No kidding.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”

Emma was already at my closet, throwing doors open. “Let’s see what we’ve got here… Whoa. Okay, this dress.” She pulled out a short pink gown I’d shoved in the back months ago. On anyone else, it would’ve looked simple. On me? It would reveal everything I tried to hide.

My stomach sank. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” they chorused, glaring at me like I’d just committed treason.

“Because…” I hesitated, searching for words. “It makes me uncomfortable. And I don’t want to cause a stir.”

Claire crossed her arms. “Mary, you could walk into a library wearing a trash bag and still cause a stir. It’s just who you are. So instead of hiding, why not own it? Be the Serena of this school.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, holding the dress like it was sacred. “Be Serena. This gown has literally been waiting for you.” She shoved it into my arms and pushed me toward the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind me.

im ready , we gotta start heading out k said immediately I stepped out from the bedroom

Wow , Damm , you look very stunning, Emma said teasing

If I'm a guy , I'd stop you from heading out and have you right now right here, Damm you look ravishing, Claire teases

My face reddened, smiles escaped my lips, stop it , let's go

Michael’s POV

The bass hit me before I even reached the porch. It wasn’t music anymore—it was a vibration, shaking the ground beneath my sneakers, rattling in my chest. The house looked like it might explode, every window glowing with strobe lights, silhouettes moving like shadows behind the blinds.

Inside, it was chaos.

The living room looked like it belonged in an architecture magazine—vaulted ceilings, polished wood floors, chandeliers swinging with the rhythm of the crowd. But instead of study groups or polite mixers like I’d pictured Ivy League kids having, the place was wild. Red Solo cups covered every flat surface. A DJ had hijacked a baby grand piano and turned it into a booth, blasting remixes so loud you couldn’t think straight.

Charles disappeared into the crowd like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, high-fiving strangers, shouting over the music. I hung back, trying to take it all in.

Students were everywhere—laughing, yelling, dancing. Sorority girls in glitter heels balanced on coffee tables, their hair sparkling under the lights. Guys in varsity jackets shoved each other near the beer pong table. A group in pressed blazers debated internships by the fireplace like it was a boardroom instead of a party. Old money privilege and college recklessness, smashed together into one insane scene.

I tried to blend in, moving carefully through the room. Someone shoved a drink into my hand before disappearing into the sea of bodies. I didn’t even know what it was.

For a second, I thought maybe I’d made a mistake coming here. But then the beat hooked me—the whole house pulsed like it had a heartbeat.

Suddenly, the music cut. The DJ’s voice roared through the speakers:

“Ladies and gentlemen, freshmen and legends, give it up for the man himself—the organizer, the billionaire, the king of the night—David Da King Jr.!”

The crowd erupted.

I scoffed under my breath. Typical. What a show-off. Not to brag, but I honestly didn’t get the hype. Sure, he was rich, a model, the golden boy everyone drooled over. But me? I couldn’t help thinking I was better than him. Girls just never seemed to notice guys like me when guys like him were around.

I exhaled, gripping my cup tighter.

This was my first Ivy League party.

My first night of freedom.

And for the first time since arriving, I wondered—was I ready to belong here?

“Hey—watch where you’re going!”

The voice hit me like a jolt. I turned too fast, and the drink slipped from my hand, splashing across the dress of the girl standing in front of me.

“s**t!” she gasped. “You ruined my dress!”

And then I froze.

It was her. The girl. More stunning up close than I’d even imagined. She looked like she’d stepped straight out of another world, a mermaid in human skin—green eyes sharp and alive, blonde hair falling in waves, lips so perfect my brain short-circuited.

“Apologize!” one of her friends snapped, glaring at me.

“I—uh—didn’t mean—” I stuttered.

“Cat got your tongue?” another friend teased, smirking.

Heat rushed to my face. I scratched my head, trying to laugh it off, but nothing came out right.

“It’s okay,” she said suddenly, her voice soft, almost kind. She smiled, revealing a dimple on her left cheek.

I swear, my chest stopped working for a second.

I opened my mouth to say something smooth, something unforgettable. Instead, all that came out was—

“Wow.”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “That’s it? ‘Wow’? You ruin her gown and that’s what you’ve got?”

“I—I’m sorry. I’ll get something to clean it,” I mumbled, retreating before I embarrassed myself more.

I pushed through the crowd, searching desperately.

“Yo, where you running to?” Charles appeared out of nowhere, grinning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing,” I muttered. “It’s… it’s the girl from earlier.”

“Who?”

“The one I saw when I first moved in.”

“Ohhh. Your crush.” He smirked.

“She’s not my crush,” I shot back, but my ears burned. “I just… spilled my drink on her.”

Charles doubled over laughing. “You spilled your drink on her? Bro, that’s hilarious. So why are you running instead of apologizing?”

“I wasn’t running. I was looking for something to clean it with,” I said defensively.

Charles raised an eyebrow, then reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded white handkerchief. “You mean… like this?”

I groaned, realizing I’d had it the whole time.

“Damn. Thanks, man,” I muttered, snatching it back.

And with my

heart racing, I turned toward the crowd again—ready to face her, to fix what I’d messed up, and maybe, just maybe, not blow my one chance.