The cold night air bit at Avery’s skin as she pushed open the doors of the Crestwood Academy gymnasium, fleeing the humiliating scene inside. The sounds of music and laughter faded into the background as she ran, her tears blurring the twinkling fairy lights that adorned the courtyard.
She collapsed onto a stone bench near the fountain, burying her face in her hands. The wet champagne stain on her gown clung to her skin, a harsh reminder of Camila’s cruel scheme and the doubts Shawn had voiced. Her chest heaved with the weight of betrayal, humiliation, and confusion.
“Why does this always happen to me?” she whispered to herself, her breath visible in the frigid air.
She thought she had rebuilt herself—stronger, more confident—but tonight had stripped all that away, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable again.
“Avery.”
She flinched at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t want Shawn to see the tears streaking her cheeks or the way her shoulders trembled.
Shawn approached cautiously, his usual confident stride replaced with hesitation. He stopped a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Can I sit?”
Avery didn’t answer, but she didn’t tell him to leave either. Taking her silence as permission, Shawn sat on the bench beside her.
“I messed up,” he said quietly.
Avery kept her gaze fixed on the fountain, her voice bitter. “That’s an understatement.”
Shawn sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I let my jealousy get the better of me. I didn’t trust you when I should have, and I—” He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I hurt you.”
Avery finally turned to face him, her gray eyes shimmering with tears. “You didn’t just hurt me, Shawn. You believed Camila. You believed the rumors. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”
“I do,” Shawn said, his green eyes filled with remorse. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it. I should have known better. I do know better.”
Avery sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Then why did you doubt me?”
“Because I was scared,” Shawn admitted. “You mean more to me than anyone ever has, and I let that scare me. I thought if there was even a chance you didn’t feel the same, it would break me.”
Avery looked at him, her tears slowing as his words sank in. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the raw vulnerability he rarely showed.
“I’m sorry,” Shawn said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”
Shawn shifted closer, his breath visible in the cold night air. “I know I can’t undo tonight, but I can fix it. I promise.”
Avery shook her head, her voice flat. “You can’t fix this. Everyone saw what happened. The dress, Camila, everything—it’s ruined.”
“Not if I can help it,” Shawn said, determination hardening his tone.
Avery gave him a skeptical look. “And how exactly are you going to fix this?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Shawn’s lips. “My mom knows someone. A designer. A famous one. If you let me make a call, I can have them here in twenty minutes. They’ll fix your dress, fix everything.”
Avery blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Shawn said, pulling out his phone. “You’re not going back in there looking like this—not because of Camila, and definitely not because of me.”
Avery hesitated, her heart aching from the whirlwind of the evening. “Why are you doing this?”
Shawn’s gaze softened. “Because you deserve to feel like the queen you are. And because I want to show you that I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what.”
Shawn glanced down at his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He tapped a number, his confidence returning as he stood.
“Give me twenty minutes,” he said, offering her a small, hopeful smile. “You’re going to look like a queen.”