Whispered Temptations

Chapter Three

「 ✦ Halsey's POV ✦ 」

Ten months later



"For God's sake, Hazel, slow down," I called, half breathless as I hurried after my sister down the uneven sidewalk. "The house has walls. It isn't going anywhere."

Hazel only laughed and kept gliding ahead of me like some long-legged woodland creature born to move gracefully through the world while the rest of us suffered.

Streetlights washed the block in amber, catching in the glossy spirals of her dark curls as she spun around mid-step and began walking backward. The electric-blue satin of her dress shimmered against her caramel skin, molding to her slim figure as if it had been sewn onto her. Silver straps wound around her ankles, making her look taller than ever, which felt especially rude considering I already had to tilt my chin up to glare at her.

"Some of us," I informed her, "were not blessed with the DNA of a giraffe. Have mercy on my tragically short legs."

She grinned, flashing the dimple in her left cheek that had gotten her out of trouble for most of her life.

"Your legs are adorable, Zizi."

"They are overworked, actually."

That made her laugh harder.

The sound drifted through the warm night air, light and bright and familiar enough to ease something tight in my chest. A year ago, I would never have let Hazel drag me to a crowded sorority party filled with strangers and impossible girls in tiny dresses.

A year ago, I would have hidden in my room and pretended I had a migraine.

A year ago, I still measured every room by how many people in it might remember the winter formal.

Hazel reached me at last and caught my hand in both of hers, still smiling.

"You made it this far. No dramatic collapse. I'm proud of you."

"I can still collapse if you're too generous with your encouragement."

She ignored that and squeezed my fingers. Her eyes flicked over me with unconcealed satisfaction, taking in the fitted black halter top she'd bullied me into wearing and the dark jeans hugging my hips and thighs.

Hazel had called the outfit hot but mysterious.

I had called it a cry for help.

Now, beneath the gold wash of the streetlamp, I smoothed my palms over the silk fabric clinging to my torso and tried not to tug the neckline any higher. The top showed more cleavage than I was used to, which was saying something considering there was nothing subtle about my chest.

Hazel noticed, of course.

"Stop doing that."

"I am not doing anything."

"You are trying to turn a halter top into a turtleneck with the power of self-loathing."

I choked on a laugh.

"Hazel."

"What? Am I wrong?"

"You are deeply disrespectful."

"And deeply right."

She looped her arm through mine and resumed walking, this time at a pace designed for actual human beings.

The music grew louder as we neared sorority row, bass pulsing through the summer night in steady waves. Groups of college students clustered on front lawns beneath strings of lights, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying across the street. The houses themselves loomed large and bright with open doors and glowing windows, all white columns and manicured hedges and the kind of careless beauty that made me feel like I'd stumbled into a movie I had no business starring in.

I swallowed.

Hazel felt it immediately.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

She snorted.

"That means no."

I let out a slow breath. "I just don't know why I'm here."

Her head whipped toward me so fast her curls bounced.

"Because Halo invited you."

"That is not the same thing."

"Because Halo begged you."

I gave her a look.

Hazel grinned. "Because I begged you. Because Lo has barely stopped talking about seeing you tonight for the last week. Because you leave for school soon and she wants one last summer memory with both her sisters under one roof."

I looked away, my throat going strangely tight.

"And," Hazel added more softly, "because you don't get to spend the rest of your life hiding from people who were cruel to you."

That landed deeper than I wanted it to.

The breeze shifted, carrying perfume, cut grass, spilled beer, and the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine from somewhere nearby. I focused on that instead of the old instinct rising in me - the urge to turn around, go home, scrub my makeup off, and sink into the green armchair in Dad's office with a blanket and a book and never let the world look at me again.

"I hate when you get wise," I muttered.

Hazel preened. "It's a burden, really."

I smiled despite myself.

She caught it and beamed.

There had been a time, in the months after the winter formal, when neither of my sisters knew what to do with me anymore. Halo tried loud love - shopping bags, face masks, late-night calls, and constant demands that I leave the house. Hazel tried quiet fury - slipping into my room with mugs of tea, lying beside me in bed without speaking, and glaring at anyone who even said Tyler Henderson's name within hearing distance.

Mom had done what mothers do best. She had held me together when I shook apart.

Dad had become dangerous in the stillest possible way.

No one ever said much about what happened after the school "investigation," only that Tyler had lost his captaincy, Carly had been suspended, and several students learned too late that rich parents could not always buy their children out of consequences.

It hadn't mattered much to me then.

Humiliation doesn't vanish just because someone else gets punished for causing it.

But somewhere between winter and summer, something in me had shifted. Not healed entirely. Not even close.

Just... shifted.

The weight I'd lost had not transformed my life the way magazines promised. Neither had better makeup, softer curls, contacts, or clothes that fit the body I had spent years trying to disappear from. None of it had erased what happened.

But little by little, I had started recognizing my own face again.

Not as a punchline.

Not as a before picture.

Just mine.

Hazel nudged me with her shoulder. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

I groaned. "If you call me gorgeous, I'm turning around."

"You do look gorgeous. This is not my fault. Also, your boobs look incredible."

I nearly stumbled.

"Hazel!"

"What? They do. If I had those, I'd commit crimes."

I burst out laughing so abruptly I had to stop walking.

Hazel's smile softened as she watched me.

There it was again - that quiet look she got whenever she caught me laughing lately, like she was still a little surprised I could.

"Don't do that," I said.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like I returned from war."

Her expression changed at once. Not ashamed. Just honest.

"You kind of did."

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

There was no point pretending she was wrong.

Instead I slipped my arm tighter through hers and let her drag me the rest of the way toward the largest house on the block, its wide front porch strung with fairy lights and packed with laughing bodies.

Halo's sorority house.

Music throbbed from somewhere deep inside, loud enough to rattle the front windows. Girls in tiny dresses and boys in backwards caps spilled across the lawn and steps, moving in clusters that opened and closed around us as we approached.

Hazel straightened instinctively, shoulders back, smile effortless.

She belonged in spaces like this.

People noticed her immediately, calling her name from the porch and front walk. She waved without breaking stride, all practiced charm and careless confidence, then leaned close enough for only me to hear.

"If anyone makes you uncomfortable, point them out and I will ruin their life."

I smiled. "That's comforting."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Her fingers brushed mine once before letting go.

We climbed the porch steps together. The wooden boards vibrated beneath our feet from the bass inside.

A group of fraternity boys moved aside to let us pass. One of them looked Hazel over with open admiration until he noticed my expression and abruptly found the floor fascinating.

That almost made me laugh again.

The front door stood wide open. Warm air rushed out in a wave of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, along with the heavy beat of early-2000s hip-hop pulsing through the house. Lights flashed over a packed living room where bodies pressed together in motion, drinks lifted overhead, and laughter rose in bright bursts.

For a second, I froze in the doorway.

It was too much at once.

Too loud. Too crowded. Too easy to imagine every head turning, every face registering me, evaluating me, measuring whether I belonged.

Hazel touched the middle of my back.

A small touch.

Steady.

Not pushing.

Just there.

"Breathe, Zizi."

I inhaled.

Then exhaled slowly.

And stepped inside.

The floor was sticky beneath my platform sandals. The bass rolled straight through my ribs. Colored lights slid over unfamiliar faces and bare shoulders and glittering jewelry. Girls danced in the center of the room while clusters of people shouted over the music near the walls.

And somewhere beyond all of it, a familiar laugh rang out.

Hazel lit up at once.

"There she is."

I followed her gaze.

Halo stood in the middle of a loose circle of girls near the makeshift dance floor, one hand lifted as she laughed at something someone said. Her black hair spilled down her back in glossy waves, and her pink dress clung to her like it had been invented for the sole purpose of making men drive into telephone poles.

Then she saw us.

Her smile vanished for one startled second.

Not because she was unhappy.

Because she didn't recognize me.

I felt it from across the room - that split second of confusion before realization hit.

Then her whole face changed.

"HALSEY LEE MEADOWS!"

She came at me like a missile in pink stilettos.

I barely had time to laugh before she threw herself into me, wrapping both arms around my shoulders hard enough to rock me backward.

"You're here," she said into my hair, squeezing tighter. "Oh my God, you're actually here."

"Hello to you too," I wheezed.

She pulled back only long enough to hold me at arm's length and look at me properly.

Her amber eyes widened.

Then narrowed.

Then widened again.

Hazel folded her arms smugly beside us.

"I know."

Halo's gaze swept from my curls to my top to my jeans to my shoes and back again, not in judgment but in open, astonished approval.

"Halsey," she said slowly, like she was trying not to scream. "What the hell."

I laughed, cheeks heating.

"That sounds hostile."

"You look so f*****g good."

"Halo."

"No, actually, shut up, because you do." She grabbed my face in both hands and kissed my forehead. "You were always beautiful, but this?" She leaned back, shaking her head. "This is criminal."

Hazel tossed her curls. "You're welcome."

Halo rolled her eyes at her and then hugged me again, gentler this time.

The ache that had been sitting between my ribs all evening eased a little more.

This was why I had come.

Not the party.

Not the music.

Not the strangers.

This.

My sisters, wrapped around me like they had spent my whole life trying to prove I belonged exactly where they were.

Halo pulled back and hooked an arm around each of us.

"Come on," she said, grinning. "There are people you need to meet."

We let her steer us deeper into the house.

As the crowd opened before us and closed behind us, I caught myself smiling.

For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel forced.

And for one brief, dangerous moment, I had the strange feeling that tonight was going to change everything.