All Chapters of Disguise: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Kylie's POV “Hey, Dexton!” I called, waving my hands like I was trying to flag down a runaway balloon. He turned, pulling away from the girl he'd been chatting with, and gave me a half-smile. “Kylie...” He opened his arms for a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, then caught the girl’s eyes. She gave me a glare sharp enough to cut glass—definitely a she’s-not-happy-about-this glare. And wow, she was pretty. Curious, I asked as my eyes flickered to her, “Is she your girlfriend?” She was cute—like, really cute. The kind of cute that makes you feel weirdly insecure in your own skin. Her cheeks flushed instantly. Aww. The girl’s cheeks instantly flushed a bright red. Aww, that was cute. But come on, Dexton’s heart belonged to Anna, right? “Nope. Not my girlfriend. Just some random girl I saw and... well, I want to f**k her.” He said it like ordering fries—nonchalant, no apologies. I almost choked on my own breath. Did he really just say that? Too blunt, even for Dexton. I glanced

•Kylie's POV Bob was pacing like a man whose life depended on flower arrangements, barking orders left and right like a drill sergeant in designer loafers. "More lights on that corner! And who told you to use plastic lilies? Do I look like someone who’d throw a funeral-themed gala?!" Meanwhile, I sat perched like royalty in my chair, legs elegantly crossed, pineapple juice in hand, sipping it like it held the secrets of the universe. I didn’t lift a finger—unless you count repositioning my straw. Ah, the sweet, sparkling perks of having people do the heavy lifting while you supervise... glamorously. The hall was an explosion of colour—literally. Red and lime lights lit up the corners like Christmas met Valentine's Day and had a baby. Tables were covered in rainbow-patterned cloths that screamed celebrate or else, chairs matched like obedient siblings, and flowers—possibly fake, possibly intergalactic—were perched delicately on each table. Frankly, I didn’t care what kind of flowe

KYLIE'S POV “Kylie, aren’t you done yet?” Eric’s voice pierced through the bathroom door, his tone drenched in exasperation. “Nooope, I’ll be out in a minute,” I replied, casually leaning against the door like I was posing for a sad bathroom ad. That’s what I’d been doing for the past thirty minutes—loitering in the clinic’s bathroom like a fugitive from face wipes. “That’s what you’ve been saying for thirty minutes, Kylie! Thirty minutes!” Eric shouted, thumping the door like it owed him money. “Come out! What—are you scared of needles?” He was clearly trying to rile me up. “Tsk. Of course not,” I scoffed. “Why would I be? It’s just... a sharp, pointy object meant to pierce human flesh. Totally chill.” I let out a laugh that was more nervous than casual. Okay, maybe a little chill-deficient. “You’re definitely scared,” he teased. “It’s just antiseptic, not a lobotomy.” Ugh. But if I go out there, my makeup will get wiped off. “Come on, Kylie, first period already started. I’m

Kylie's POV "Why did you come here?" Dad's arms folded across his chest like a fortress gate, his voice carrying that familiar edge that could slice through steel. He wanted an answer I didn't have—or rather, one I wasn't ready to give. For a split second, I could have sworn his eyes lit up with something that looked suspiciously like... joy? But this was my father we're talking about. The man who'd perfected the art of emotional constipation. I must be seeing things. *Yep, definitely hallucinating.* Ever since I chose music over his precious business empire, we'd been locked in this ridiculous cold war. Two stubborn people trying to out-stubborn each other. Spoiler alert: we're both winning. "Why are you asking me? Ask Mom." I pivoted toward my mother, throwing her under the bus with zero shame. "Mom, why exactly am I here?" Guilt spread across her face like spilled wine on white carpet. "I wanted us to have family time." *Family time.* Right. "Mom," I said, my voice climbin

Kylie's POV "How did I know your name? That's a funny question," I laughed nervously, my voice cracking slightly. "Put that gun down first so you won't do something you'll regret." He chuckled—a sound that sent ice through my veins. "Oh, but I want to. I'm dying to fire this bullet, so don't test me. Now tell me—how did you know my name?" His voice dropped to a whisper, each word dripping with menace. I should have been terrified of the gun. Any sane person would be. But strangely, I wasn't—not really. What scared me was my secrets spilling out like blood from a wound. Though, okay, maybe I was a little afraid of the gun. His hands looked steady, but what if they slipped? What if his finger twitched? *I'd be dead.* *No more sunrises. No more anything. Just... darkness.* *Would I even make it to heaven? Oh God, forgive me for whatever I'm about to do.* But who the hell was this guy? And what was his deal? One thing was crystal clear—I wasn't the only one harboring secrets. My e