LOGINSheila’s POVA week later, I came home to find a black dress laid out on my bed like a threat.It was simple. Soft black fabric, short sleeves with a skirt that hit mid‑thigh, and a neckline a little lower than anything I’d ever worn outside the house.Zuki appeared in my doorway, arms crossed. “Tonight,” she said. “We test you in the wild.”“In the what?” I asked.“The wild,” she repeated. “A club. Music. Strangers. Lights. Real field conditions.”“I’m underage,” I said nervously.“It’s an 18+ place,” she replied, laughing. “They just X your hand so you can’t drink. Relax, we’re not getting arrested.”I stared at the dress. “I’m not wearing that.”“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’ll wear it with the boots we bought and the jacket you like so you don’t feel naked.”She walked over, picked up the dress, and held it to my front. “Trust me.”I swallowed. “Why do we need a club, exactly?”“Because,” she said, “you’ve practiced in safe spaces. Cafés, Bobby’s room, texts. All with a safety ne
Sheila’s POVThat night, after our Vegas run, we sat on the living room floor with snacks spread between us. My feet were tired, my head full.I'd been driving around town till atleast 8pm. Before we came home.Zuki popped a chip into her mouth. “Okay,” she said. “Tomorrow we start on your phone.”“My phone?” I asked.“Yes,” she said. “Your texting game is tragic.”“It’s texting,” I said. “You type words. You send them. What game is needed?”She reached for my phone where it sat on the table. “Show me your chat with Bobby.”I snatched it faster than I thought I could. “No.”“Why not?” she asked.“Because,” I said. “It’s personal.”She raised a brow. “I’ve literally seen you in your dead sleeping shirt. There are no secrets left.”I hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But don’t judge.”“I will absolutely judge,” she said. “That’s my job.”I unlocked my phone and opened the chat with Bobby. She scooted closer until our shoulders touched.Her eyes moved fast over the messages. She hummed, mad
Sheila’s POVThe next Saturday, Zuki barged into my room at nine in the morning and flung open my curtains.“Wake up,” she said. “It’s time.”I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. “Time for what?”“Vegas,” she said. “Real Vegas. You promised.”“I never promised anything,” I mumbled.She ripped the blanket off me. “You made a deal with the devil, baby. Read the fine print.”I squinted up at her. “Why are you dressed like that?”She was in ripped black jeans, a cropped top, and a light jacket. Her hair was down in wild waves. She looked like she was walking onto a music video set.“Like what?” she asked.“Like trouble,” I said.“Exactly,” she replied with a smile.An hour later, after coffee and minimal protests, I found myself driving us toward the Strip. I’d lived in Vegas long enough that most of it had lost its shine, but for tourists like Zuki, it was still magic.She pressed her face to the window. “This is insane,” she said. “It’s like a theme park for adults.”“Pretty
Sheila’s POVThe text from Bobby came two days later.Bobby: hey lifesaver got a minute to look at something? code is being weird againI saw it while I was sitting at the kitchen table, working on my own thesis. My heart did its usual stupid jump.Me: What did you break this time?Bobby: nothing the universe hates me come over if you’re free? ill order pizza I stared at the screen longer than needed. My pulse sped up.Zuki walked in, chewing on an apple. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”“It’s Bobby,” I said.She leaned over my shoulder, shameless. “Let me see.”I angled the phone so she could read.She grinned. “Perfect. Field test with a real target.”“I’m not ready,” I said instantly.“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’ve been walking around the house like a princess in training for a week. You even flirted with a barista by accident.”“I didn’t flirt,” I said. “I just said thank you.”“Exactly,” she said. “Step by step. Tonight we test your progress.”“I don’t w
Sheila’s POVTwo days later, I stood in front of the mirror and tried not to panic.Zuki had picked my outfit. Simple black jeans that actually fit. A soft, pale top that showed my collarbones but not too much. My hair was down for once, brushed out and falling over my shoulders. Light makeup. Lip balm again, eyes slightly defined.I still looked like me. Just… edited.Zuki appeared behind me in the mirror and rested her chin on my shoulder.“You look good,” she said. “Like the main character who doesn’t know she’s the main character yet.”“I feel like a fraud,” I muttered.“Good,” she said. “All hot people feel like frauds at first. It means you care.”“That sounds fake.”“Everything is a little fake,” she said. “We’re just picking the fake that helps you.”She stepped back and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go. I’m hungry. And your training arc awaits.”We drove to a small café about fifteen minutes away. It had a glass front, warm lights, and a little bar area to the side. Not too crowded
Sheila’s POVAfter the makeup test, I begged for a break. Zuki gave me exactly ten minutes.Then she clapped her hands. “Up. We are going to fix your walk.”“I thought we already fixed my walk,” I said from the couch.“That was basic spine survival,” she said. “Now we are adding attitude.”“I don't need an attitude,” I said.“Yes, you do,” she replied. “Right now, you move like you are going into war.”She stood in the middle of the room. “Watch.”She took a few steps. It was not exaggerated. Just smooth, relaxed, her shoulders back, hips swaying slightly, like music was playing inside her head.“This is normal,” she said. “I'm not even trying. You? Show me your regular walk.”I frowned and walked across the room like I always do.She squinted. “You walk like you're on your way to rough up somebody.”“I like walking smart,” I said.“Don't walk smart,” she replied.She motioned me back. “Again. This time, shoulders back. Think ‘I belong here’ instead of ‘Please don't look at me.’”“You







