1974 || 5SOS

Chapter 16

Scarlett

A month had passed, and I was no longer the same girl who had stumbled out of the hills that night, wide-eyed, scared and unsure. The money, the attention, the weight of what I'd done—it didn't feel like something I had to apologize for anymore. I wasn't pretending anymore. I was me, and I was unapologetic.

The glare of the flashbulbs still danced in my head sometimes, but what lingered more were the stares I got when I walked into a room now. Men looked at me like I was a forced to be reckoned with; they saw the woman I was becoming. And I loved it. Every second of it. I wasn't scared anymore. I didn't shrink. I let them stare, and I stood taller daring them to speak to me.

Kitty had kept her cool through all of it—her effortless ease in front of the camera, the way she'd turned into a goddess of the West Coast. But me? I was something else. I was a redheaded bombshell with no apologies. I'd slipped out of the cage I'd spent my whole life in, and the world hadn't swallowed me whole like I thought it would. After Ashton had come to my rescue I had made a resolve to never let that happen again.

So the first time a man looked at me like I was his after I made myself that promise, I didn't flinch. I smiled back, giving him just enough of a glimpse of the fire I was finally letting out. I had my fun. But I made sure the game was always on my terms.

Men were different now, too. They weren't used to me—this version of me—and I could see it. The way they hesitated before speaking, the way they tried too hard to impress, like they didn't know if I what I was thinking. I was something bigger now. Something better than they could imagine.

I was over the quiet, dutiful Scarlett. I was done with the girl who tried to be good to please everyone. And the more I looked around, the more I realized—I didn't owe anybody anything.

The studio was alive with heat and energy, the lights blinding but familiar. This was where I had learned to shed my old self. The faint murmur of the photographer's commands faded into the rhythmic clicking of cameras, but today, it was different. Today, I wasn't just standing in front of a lens—I was owning it.

Kitty was up first. She was the embodiment of sunshine and warmth, a vision of effortless beauty that matched the sultry vibe of Miss July. The photographer directed her into position, and with one glance at her, it was clear why she was a natural. She wore a red-and-white gingham bikini bottoms with little bows on the hips, and a playful, confident smile that could melt any camera lens. She looked like she belonged on a California beach, her tan skin glowing in the studio lights.

I watched her for a moment, marveling at how easy she made it look. She didn't just model; she became what she wore. She was the perfect picture of a carefree California girl, a goddess of the West Coast. She was always the one who made it look effortless, the girl who had always known exactly who she was.

But me? I was still figuring it out, even though something had clicked after the past month—something inside me had shifted.

When the photographer called me over, I pushed myself off the wall and strode toward him, white heels clicking on the floor like a steady drumbeat. Today, I was Miss December, dressed in a sheer white fur-lined robe draped around my shoulders.

The cold, snowflake-like aesthetic of December didn't feel distant to me now. I had mastered the cold persona. I was turning into something else, someone I could be proud of.

The photographer gestured for me to take my place. "Scarlett, give me something sharp. I want fierce."

The words hit me with the force of a challenge, and I rose to meet it.