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Chapter Seventeen: Sun-Kissed Sundays
publish date:
2026-07-17 00:08:13
最新章節
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Six: The Cost of a Dream
The headquarters of Lumen Studios was a brutalist masterpiece of poured concrete, towering steel beams, and floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the industrial skyline of the city. It didn't scream fashion; it screamed power. When Dom’s Jeep pulled up to the security gate, my palms were sweating so much I was terrified I’d slip right out of my seat. "Hey," Dom said softly, putting the Jeep in park. He turned in his seat, his blue eyes dropping to take in my outfit. Chris had outdone himself. I was wearing the vintage, oversized leather trench coat, belted tightly at the waist to create a sharp, dramatic silhouette, paired with chunky, square-toed boots. Bianca had kept my makeup incredibly fresh—dewy skin, a sharp wing of brown liner, and a soft, blurred nude lip. I looked like I belonged on a mood board in this very building. Dom stared at me, his gaze slow and heavy. For a second, he didn't even breathe. "You look..." He cleared his throat, a faint, rare trace of color
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Five: The Master Plan and the Messy Room
"Oh my god! Oh my god, Chris, look at this!" I practically took down the doorframe to the living room, waving my phone in the air like a madwoman. Bianca was in the middle of masking her face with a bright green avocado paste, and Chris was draped over the sofa, dramatic as always, sketching in a notebook. "Kelsey, if this is about another TikTok meme of you and the chocolate fountain, I am going to throw myself off the balcony," Chris groaned, not even looking up. "Lumen Studios," I gasped, holding the phone directly in front of his face. "Read. The. Screen." Chris squinted at the blue checkmark, his eyes scanning the message. Within three seconds, his sketching pencil clattered to the floor. He sat up so fast I thought he was going to pull a muscle. "No," he whispered, his jaw dropping. "Lumen? The Lumen? The ones who did the utility-cargo drop that sold out in four minutes last fall?" "Yes!" I squealed, jumping up and down on the hardwood floor. "They want to intervie
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Four: The Quiet After the Storm
My bedroom in our new loft was the only space that felt completely finished. Chris and Bianca had helped me drag in my massive white vanity, the faux-fur rug, the towering gold-framed mirror, and the sheer, dramatic pink curtains that pooled on the hardwood floor. It looked like a high-fashion sanctuary—a pastel-pink dream designed to shield me from the harshness of the outside world.But tonight, the room felt too big. Too quiet.I was curled up on the center of my mattress, buried under a mountain of plush blankets. And despite everything—despite the runway second-place victory, despite the glorious satisfaction of kissing Dom in front of the entire campus, and despite the fact that I knew I deserved so much better—I was wearing Malik’s oversized, faded gray varsity hoodie.It was pathetic. I knew it.If this were a movie, the strong, independent protagonist would have burned the hoodie the second she found out about the betrayal. But in real life? Detaching yourself from your
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Three: The Aftermath and the Agreement
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed with a cheerful little ring as we walked out, but the atmosphere inside that café remained entirely dead. I could feel the burning weight of fifty pairs of eyes boring into my back, but I didn't care. My lips were still tingling. My heart was a frantic, wild thing, beating so hard against my ribs I was sure Dom could feel it through the heavy wool of his coat. Dom didn't say a single word. He kept his large, warm hand wrapped securely around my waist, guiding me smoothly through the double doors, down the concrete steps, and straight toward his Jeep parked on the curb. The second the passenger door clicked shut behind me, the bubble popped. I slumped back against the leather seat, burying my face in my hands. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I actually did that. I am insane. I have officially lost my mind." The driver’s side door opened, and Dom slid in. He didn't start the engine. He just sat there in the quiet cabin of the Jeep. I slowly
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-two:The Art of pretending
I woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of Chris's dramatic laughter echoing from the kitchen. I sat up, stretching, only to realize I was still wearing Dom's oversized black t-shirt. The soft cotton had stretched out overnight, and as I walked out into the open-concept living room, the hem brushed against my thighs. Chris was sitting on a cardboard box, holding a mug, while Bianca leaned against the kitchen counter. The moment they saw me, their eyes locked onto the massive black tee. "Oh, look who decided to join the living," Chris purred, a wicked, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "You went out for a basic lecture yesterday and came back dressed in the scent of expensive cedarwood, clean laundry, and a six-foot-two brooding artist. Fascinating." "Leo texted me that you had a little chocolate accident," Bianca giggled, sipping her coffee. "But he didn't mention you'd be bringing home souvenirs." "It's just a shirt," I mumbled, my
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-One: The Chocolate Fountain Spill
I didn't reply to Malik's comment. I stared at his words—You looked good out there, Kels—for a solid ten minutes, my thumb hovering over the screen. A younger, more fragile version of me would have typed out a stinging, sarcastic retort, or perhaps a desperate, lingering question. But the girl in the liquid-silver dress? She didn't say a damn thing. Doing too much would only feed his ego, making him think he still held some kind of leverage over my peace of mind. So, I left the comment there, like a trophy of his regret, and locked my phone. The next afternoon, the high-fashion adrenaline had officially faded into the mundane reality of college life. Aethelgard was hosting a mandatory-attendance campus panel on student entrepreneurship in the main student union building. "I would rather swallow a sewing needle," Chris had groaned, burying his face under three heavy duvets on his mattress in our empty loft. "I'm sleeping for the next forty-eight hours. My fingers are literally
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