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2025-06-04 22:46:52
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Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers The silence before the storm
I needed to find him. My heels echoed across the marble floor as I stepped back into the ballroom. The music was slower now, softer—velvet smooth violins weaving through laughter and glitter. The chandeliers flickered above like stars caught in a windless sky. My chest still ached with what Evelyn had said, the way she’d said it. Her words clung to me like thorns. I could still hear the tremble in her voice when she said, "Even when I tried to be you." But I needed to find Lucas. I scanned the crowd—his dark hair, his height, the way he always seemed slightly apart even when surrounded. I knew the shape of him by heart now. But he wasn’t near the refreshments, or along the terrace. My fingers curled at my sides, half-anxious, half-restless. “Pearl!” An arm looped around mine before I could slip past the second arch. Anastasia. She spun me with a grin, a flush already high on her cheeks. “Oh my god, where have you been? You disappeared after that dance.” “I just needed some air
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers The Prom night ( 2 )
The ballroom glowed. I mean that—glowed. Not just from the chandeliers dripping with golden light or the crystals twinkling from every arch, but from the way people looked at one another, full of joy, awe, and nerves. The school had outdone itself. Velvet curtains framed the marble windows, bouquets of moon-colored roses stood tall on each table, and soft orchestral music curled through the air like perfume. Lucas took my hand again as we stepped inside. He was devastating in a black tuxedo, no bow tie, just the top button of his shirt slightly undone—as if rules didn’t quite apply to him. His presence turned heads, as always, but it was more than just his looks tonight. There was something about the way he walked in beside me, calm and sure, that made people stop and whisper. And me? I was wearing the pink gown we’d picked together—a soft, flowing miracle of silk that shimmered with every movement, like I was made of rose petals and moonlight. My long black hair had been le
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers The Prom Night ( 1 )
I woke up to the sound of Apollo snoring. Loudly. Apollo had grown even more overnight—I swear he was twice his size every time I blinked. He was sprawled across the foot of our bed, one paw hanging dramatically off the side like some tragic royal. I wiggled out from under the blankets, stepping around his tail like a trained circus dancer. Today was the day. Prom. The last, glittery, totally dramatic event of the school year. I still couldn’t believe I was actually going. I padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the steam curl through the air like morning magic. As I stepped in, the water poured over me like a soft waterfall. I tilted my face up, letting the warmth melt away the butterflies in my stomach. Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a pale robe, I stood at the vanity, squinting at my reflection. Hair: damp. Eyes: sleepy. Skin: needed help. I reached for my emergency stash—lavender honey face mask. Lucas called it my “mud armor,” and I intended to wear
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers The last exam
The first light of dawn seeped softly through the curtains, painting the room in gentle golds and pinks. The castle was quiet except for the faint hum of the ocean waves far below the cliff, a constant lullaby that had become a part of our everyday life. I blinked awake, feeling the comforting weight of Apollo curled at my feet. His sleek black fur warmed the cool floor as he stretched and blinked up at me with those curious, bright eyes. He was growing fast now, moving with the elegance and power of a panther much larger than his small size suggested. Slowly, I sat up, pushing my long black hair out of my face. Today was the last exam, the final challenge before the end of the school year. My heart felt steady, the nerves softened by all the studying I’d done, by the steady presence of Lucas beside me. I was ready. The routine felt familiar and grounding. I moved to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash over me as I stood beneath the shower. The steam filled the room, swirling
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Dancing in the moonlight
The castle welcomed us back like a tired, old friend—its high, arched windows glowing golden against the darkening sky, the ocean sighing somewhere below. My gown rustled faintly as we stepped into the warmth of the grand hall, Apollo’s soft paws padding beside me, his sleek panther cub body already much larger than it had been when he first arrived. He blinked at me with his moonlit eyes and yawned, curling by the hearth as if he too was satisfied with the world tonight. Lucas set the boxes down with exaggerated care, stretching his arms like he’d just conquered the world. “I think we’ve officially done the most luxurious day two people can possibly manage,” he said, undoing the top buttons of his dark shirt. I laughed, a little breathless. “I still can’t believe I own a dress like that. And shoes like these.” “You deserve them,” he said simply, and I didn’t argue. We changed into more comfortable clothes—me into a soft ivory blouse and wide-legged pants, my hair loose and fa
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Wrapped in silver and rose. ( 2 )
The woman who ran the boutique introduced herself as Madame Celia. She had grey hair swept into a chignon and wore a black velvet shawl even though the room was warm. She looked at me once, really looked, and nodded to herself like she had seen ghosts before. “Something delicate,” she murmured, circling me slowly. “With breath and movement. Nothing too heavy. Yes... pink. A soft one. Old rose. Like candlelight through blush glass.” She disappeared behind a curtain and returned with a gown that made my breath catch. It was pink—but not sugary pink. It was dusk pink. A color caught between romance and goodbye. The satin was soft, flowing, with layers that caught the light like water. The bodice was corseted, with off-shoulder sleeves that curled like petals along the arms. The skirt floated when she walked, even on the hanger. I touched it, almost afraid. “It’s…” “It’s yours,” Madame Celia said gently. “Go on.” — The fitting room was quiet. There was a single gold-framed
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