Unmasked

Chapter One: The Mask

I relocated from a small town in Georgia where I used to know everyone, to a city that didn’t care to know me. I was seventeen years old and desperate to disappear, to let go of the girl I used to be. The girl who adored museums, wore her bright pink sweatpants from Walmart without shame, and got excited for puzzle nights with her parents every Friday. That girl was soft. Ordinarily. Invisible.

New York was my decision. I begged for it, fought for it. I told my parents it was for a better education, better opportunities, but deep down, I wanted a bigger story. A larger life. I wanted to become someone.

And New York? It was a beast. Loud, unbothered, electrified by strangers. But it was also a clean slate, a blank page, and I was ready to write a new version of myself in bold, black ink.

Then I met Damien Wolfe.

He was the kind of guy every mother warned their daughters about the kind of danger that came dressed in designer jackets and smirks sharp enough to cut glass. Rich. Reckless. Beautiful in a way that made girls lose their words and their common sense. He wasn’t just admired, he was worshiped.

And somehow, he noticed me. Well... not me.

He noticed the version I created for him. The iced latte–sipping, ripped-jeans–wearing, city-loving “cool girl” I sculpted out of fear that the real me wouldn’t be enough.

He liked her. So I stayed with her.

I remember the first time he slid his arm around me like I belonged to him. Effortlessly, possessive, practiced.

“Hey, babe,” he said, without even glancing up as he tossed his half-done homework into my locker. His fingers lingered at my waist, casual and claiming.

Behind him, I tucked my nearly perfect test prep into the locker, trying not to flinch. I’d studied for that chemistry exam all week. But his girl? She didn’t care about school.

“Skip today?” he asked, flashing the kind of grin that made my stomach twist in ways I wasn’t ready to unpack.

I hesitated.

“I guess that works,” I replied, my voice cool and effortless, though my pulse betrayed me.

He kissed my cheek, a quick brush of lips that left a brand. We walked down the hallway, steps echoing off the lockers as we slipped through the back exit like we owned the world or at least like he did, and I was just the girl on his arm.

“We’ll get Starbucks,” he said. “Your favorite.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

But my favorite was actually a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza, the kind that burned your mouth and left oil stains on the napkin. And the sugary drink in my hand? It made my teeth ache and tasted like everything I hated about pretending.

Then he said it casually, like it was nothing.

“I got us IDs. Bar night tonight.”

I nearly choked on my sip, coughing hard enough to turn heads if anyone had been around.

“Are you okay?” he asked, amused. One eyebrow raised. A grin playing at his lips. “Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just... surprised.”

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper, brushing my ear. “I told you’re with me now. We go places.”

And he meant it.

We went places.

Rooftop lounges where the city glittered like it had secrets. Penthouses with black marble counters and people twice my age. Parties that started at midnight and ended in stories I never told my parents. I wore heels that made my feet scream and lipstick that didn’t suit me, and I smiled through it all like I belonged there.

Sometimes, I even believe it.

There were quiet ones, between the noise when I’d look around and think, This is the dream. This is life. My hand tucked in his, my lips painted scarlet, my reflection sharpened by the city lights.

Almost.

It almost felt like warmth. Like love.

But beneath the glitter was always the truth: I was a small-town girl pretending to be someone I wasn’t. A girl with paint-stained fingers and a sketchbook under her bed. A girl who missed Friday night puzzles and pizza slices, and the version of herself who didn’t need anyone’s approval to feel alive.

The mask fit... but it never stopped itching.

And deep down, I wondered how long I could keep wearing it before I forgot the face underneath?