Butterflies

Chapter 21

"Julia!"

Alex's voice had cut through the air, sharp and certain. My stomach had twisted as his footsteps had closed in behind me.

"Party at Carlton's." His tone had been casual, but his eyes—dark and unyielding—had pinned me in place. "Be ready by four. I'll pick you up."

His gaze had flicked over me, assessing, deciding. Like he had already known the answer.

I had hesitated, gripping the strap of my backpack.

"You're hesitating, Jules." His voice had dropped, almost amused.

"I'm not," I had said quickly. "It's just—I have midterms coming up, and my schedule is—"

"And nothing." His words had been final, each syllable slicing through my excuse. "You're coming. End. Of. Discussion."

He had turned to walk past me, just like that, as if my protests hadn't mattered.

"Alex, please," I had tried again, my voice lower now, almost desperate. "Just try to understand."

He had stopped mid-step, then looked over his shoulder. A slow smirk had crept onto his lips.

"Oh, I understand, Jules." His voice had been smooth, almost mocking. "I understand that you don't get to say no."

A chill had run down my spine.

Midterms had come and gone, but every single day after had been hell. Alex hadn't given me a break with the partying. I hadn't had a single chance to study, to prepare, to save myself from disaster. Now, all I could do was pray my results would burn before I ever had to see them.

And there I was—again—stuck in another party.

The world around me blurred. The music, the laughter, the shifting bodies—it all faded into the background. My grip on the red plastic cup had tightened, but I barely felt it. The only thing I could focus on was him.

Alex.

Leaning against the wall, one arm draped around some girl like she was nothing more than decoration. She had tilted her head toward him, a lazy smirk on her lips, fingers tracing slow circles on his chest. But it wasn't her that had made my stomach churn. It was the words spilling from his mouth.

"Not even once."

He had chuckled, shaking his head like he was amused. Like it was all a joke.

"I made it all seem real—like I'd actually do anything to get her back. And those emails? Too easy. The foundation of everything. A few carefully chosen words, a couple of well-timed threats, and she knew what choice to make. Crawl back to me where she belongs... or watch her little friend become the next target."

He had taken a slow sip from his drink, as if savoring the memory.

"Double the bullying. The insults. The emails." He had let out a mock sigh. "And she still resisted. Thought she could stand up to me, but she understood later that she doesn't have a choice. She's becoming a real pain, though—not listening like she used to, starting to act up. Starting to think she actually has a choice."