Chapter 27

Drasa's POV

I looked up to see Kai holding the microphone, his eyes wide with what looked like genuine surprise as he took in my transformation. The spotlight from the stage area seemed to follow his gaze, illuminating me like I was some kind of exhibit on display. 

Maya's hand immediately found mine, her fingers warm and reassuring as they interlaced with my own. She could sense my growing panic, the way my breathing was becoming shallow and rapid. Without hesitation, she raised her voice loud enough for everyone in the immediate area to hear.

"Hey, Kai! Continue with the program and stop eating Drasa with your eyes!" she called out boldly, her tone carrying both authority and protectiveness. "Give the girl some space to breathe!"

I felt a surge of gratitude toward Maya that was almost overwhelming. Here was someone who barely knew me, standing up for me in front of a crowd of people, refusing to let me be turned into some kind of spectacle. Her boldness in that moment made me feel less alone, less exposed.

But just as I thought the attention might shift away from me, another murmur rippled through the crowd, this one carrying a different energy entirely. The whispers were sharper, more pointed, and they seemed to be coming from a specific direction.

I followed the sound with my eyes until I found the source, and my blood turned to ice.

There, about fifteen feet away, stood Elara with another girl beside her. Even in a crowd full of beautiful people, Elara commanded attention effortlessly. Her hair caught the party lights perfectly, her designer bikini probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, and she carried herself with the kind of confidence that came from never having been told no.

Maya leaned close to my ear, her breath warm against my skin as she whispered, "That's Tasha, Elara's best friend. They're like a two-person mean girl committee."

The information hit me like a punch to the gut. Tasha looked just as polished and intimidating as Elara, her dark hair styled in perfect beach waves, her body toned and confident in a way that made me acutely aware of my own insecurities.

"Let's go," I whispered urgently to Maya, tugging on her hand. "Please, I want to leave. I can't do this."

But Maya's grip on my hand only tightened. "We're not going anywhere," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the chaos around us. "You have every right to be here, and you're not running away from these bitches."

Before I could argue further, the crowd around Elara seemed to part like the Red Sea. People were gravitating toward her, drawn by some invisible magnetic force that popular people seemed to possess. I watched in horrified fascination as conversations stopped, heads turned, and everyone's attention focused on her approach.

She walked toward me with deliberate slowness, each step calculated to maximize the drama of the moment. When she was close enough that I could see the cruel amusement dancing in her eyes, she stopped and let out a laugh that was designed to carry across the entire area.

"Ops" she said, her voice pitched perfectly to ensure maximum audience participation. "I have to say, Drasa, I'm surprised to see you at a party like this. I didn't think this was really your... scene."

The way she said it, with that perfectly practiced tone that sounded polite made my skin crawl. Every person within earshot was listening now, phones coming out, people positioning themselves for the best view of whatever drama was about to unfold.

Elara's eyes traveled slowly over my outfit, taking in every detail with obvious judgment. The look on her face was one of barely concealed disgust mixed with amusement, like she was looking at something pathetic and entertaining at the same time.

"I mean, I have to ask," she continued, her voice getting louder to ensure more people could hear, "is that supposed to be designer? Because it looks more like you raided the clearance rack at some discount store. You can't even afford to wear real designer clothes to a party like this?"

The crowd around us made that collective "ooooh" sound that meant blood was in the water. I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation, the same shame I'd experienced at that party weeks ago flooding back with renewed intensity.

"You can go to hell with your designer bullshit, Elara," Maya shot back, her voice carrying clearly through the suddenly quiet space around us. "At least Drasa doesn't need to buy her personality from a boutique, unlike some people who think expensive clothes can cover up how ugly they are on the inside."

The crowd's reaction was immediate and electric. Phones were definitely recording now, people were pushing closer to get a better view, and I could hear excited whispers about drama and confrontation.

Elara's perfectly composed expression flickered for just a moment, But before she could respond, Tasha stepped forward with the aggressive energy of a guard dog protecting its owner.

"Excuse me?" Tasha snapped, moving closer to Maya with obvious hostile intent. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to Elara like that? Do you have any idea who she is? Do you know what kind of connections she has?"

Maya didn't back down even an inch. If anything, she seemed to grow taller, more imposing, her protective instincts fully activated.

"I know exactly who she is," Maya replied coolly. "She's a bully who gets off on making other people feel small because she's so insecure about herself. And frankly, I'm not impressed by her or her little sidekick."

Tasha looked like she was seriously considering escalating things to a physical level. Her hands were clenched into fists, her body language screaming aggression. The crowd around us was practically vibrating with anticipation, sensing that things were about to get really messy.

But just as the situation seemed ready to explode, the energy shifted slightly.

Elara, sensing an opportunity to regain control of the narrative, tilted her head with a fake concerned expression. 

"You know what, though?" she said, her voice taking on a patronizing tone that made my skin crawl. "I do have to ask, Drasa did you weave your hair like that on purpose? It's just... it looks so weird. I mean, I can see people starting to notice and whisper about it. Maybe you should have kept it normal instead of trying so hard to be different."

The comment landed exactly where she intended it to. My silver hair, which had made me feel so beautiful and unique just hours ago in Maya's mirror, suddenly felt like a neon sign advertising my otherness. I became acutely aware of the stares, the whispers, the way people were looking at my elaborately braided hair like it was some kind of costume or cry for attention.

The familiar panic started building in my chest, I wanted to disappear. But just as I thought the situation couldn't possibly get any worse, a bounce echoed from behind. 

"What's wrong with her hair?"

Every single person in our little drama circle turned toward the voice, and I felt my entire world shift on its axis.

Standing there, backlit by the party lights like some kind of vision, was Amelia. But this wasn't the Amelia I knew from work, this version of Amelia was barely wearing anything at all a tiny black thong that was essentially just a string, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and what could generously be called a bra but was really just two minuscule triangles of sheer fabric that covered only her nipples.

Her body was absolutely perfect in that way that seemed almost impossible in real life. Every curve was exactly where it should be, her skin was flawless, and she moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing she was the most desirable woman in any room she entered.

The reaction from every male in the vicinity was immediate, primal, and vocal.

"Holy fucking shit," someone breathed from somewhere in the crowd.

"Now that's what I call a body," another voice said, followed by appreciative whistles and murmurs.

"Damn, who is that goddess? She's absolutely stunning!"

"She's so fucking sexy it should be illegal!"

"Look at that ass that's perfection right there!"

"I'd give anything to be with a woman like that!"

The comments kept flowing, a steady stream of masculine appreciation that seemed to energize Amelia rather than embarrass her. She soaked up the attention like she was born for it, every step calculated to maximize the effect she was having on everyone watching.

As she moved toward our group, conversations throughout the entire party area began to quiet down. People were turning to stare, pointing, whispering to their friends about the nearly naked goddess who had just appeared like something out of a fantasy.

When Amelia finally reached our circle of drama, she positioned herself so that she was facing Elara directly, completely unbothered by the fact that she was essentially nude in front of what had to be over a hundred people by now.

"I asked what's wrong with her hair," Amelia repeated, her voice carrying a dangerous edge that I had never heard at the club. "Because from where I'm standing, she looks absolutely stunning. Her hair is gorgeous, unique, and frankly, more interesting than anything else I've seen at this party."