On the day of our graduation ceremony, Blake asked me to meet him afterward.
He’d hinted mysteriously that he’d gotten us tickets for a graduation trip to Hawaii. I knew this was it—the unspoken thing between us would finally be voiced today.
A thick layer of concealer covered my birthmark. I wanted to look my best for Blake.
But I waited and waited at the school gate until the sky grew dark, and Blake never showed. I sent countless messages and made endless calls, but they all went unanswered. It wasn't until I saw a classmate's Instagram Story that I realized he was at his mansion in Beverly Hills.
With a knot of dread in my stomach, I drove to the affluent neighborhood I had only ever seen on TV.
There, I met Blake's mother, Eleanor Sterling. She was an exceptionally elegant woman. She must have recognized me from the viral photo, and I'd heard Blake mention her. Eleanor had impeccable manners and pretended not to notice the birthmark on my face. The Sterling mansion was so vast I got lost on my way to the restroom, and that's when I overheard the cruel whispers:
"Is that the girl Blake likes?"
"What's wrong with her face? What could he possibly see in her?"
"She's not even as pretty as me. What kind of love potion did she use on him?"
I knew they were right.
When I drifted back to the main hall, feeling lost, Eleanor addressed me gently. "Miss Hayes, Blake is entertaining friends at the moment. I'll have him contact you when he's available, alright? There's no need for you to worry."
Looking at the noble, elegant woman before me, at the splendid and dazzling decor, I fled the Sterling estate as if escaping a nightmare.
Blake's party must have been a grand affair, as he didn't contact me for a full week. With the deadline for university registration looming, I sent him another message. Again, no reply.
I gathered my courage and went to his house once more.
But when I reached the mansion's entrance, I couldn't bring myself to go in. The house was ablaze with light, buzzing with voices. Another wild party was in full swing. And at the center of it all was Blake.
The young man, dressed in a casual shirt, was laughing and chatting with an easy grace among a crowd by the pool, completely in his element. He looked nothing like a boy who was supposed to be on a trip with me, and he still hadn't reached out.
I stared at him, my mind blank. He was as dazzling and magnetic as ever, tall and proud, and even his manner of speaking was the same. But in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger.
Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to run. But my feelings for Blake—my hopes for our future—held me frozen to the spot.
Perhaps my stare was too piercing, because Blake, deep in conversation, suddenly looked up and met my eyes.
He froze for a moment, then waved me over to the quiet terrace to talk.
