CHAPTER 67

ARIENNE CALLOWAY

"Mom, Can I Date Someone?"

I stood in the kitchen, shifting from one foot to the other as I watched my mom chop vegetables.

She didn't even glance up. "Just say it, Ari."

I sighed, bracing myself. "Can I... date someone?"

The knife paused.

Slowly, my mom turned to face me, raising a single, perfectly arched brow.

And then—

"Is it Zayn?"

My brain short-circuited.

"What?!" I choked, my voice cracking embarrassingly. "Why would you—?! I mean, who said—?!"

Mom just smiled knowingly, setting the knife down. "He came to ask for my permission two days ago."

I froze.

He what?

"He—" I blinked. "He asked you?"

Mom nodded, looking way too smug about this. "Very politely, might I add." She wiped her hands on a towel and turned fully to me. "I was honestly waiting for you to come and ask me yourself. You're always so stubborn, but I knew you'd get there eventually."

I felt my cheeks heat. "That doesn't—! I mean, that's not—!"

She laughed, patting my head like I was a child. "Relax, sweetheart. I already gave him permission."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I hate how everyone seems to know before me."

Mom just chuckled, walking past me with the confidence of a queen. "Oh, honey. We've known for years. You two were just slow."

And with that, she left me standing there, feeling both completely exposed and ridiculously giddy.

PROM NIGHT

The night was electric.

The entire hall was bathed in golden light, music pulsing through the air as students filled the dance floor, their laughter and cheers echoing.

But none of that mattered.

Because the moment I walked in—hand-in-hand with Zayn Carter—everyone stared.

And it wasn't because of the deep blue-black gown I wore, the fabric hugging my waist before flowing down like liquid midnight. Or even because of the way Zayn looked beside me, dressed in a sharp black suit with subtle blue accents that matched my dress perfectly.

No.

It was because everyone knew.

They knew who I was.

Goddess.

Arienne Calloway.

The girl who had fought with a broken rib and still won.

Even Cleo—the one girl who had spent years trying to make my life hell—was watching from across the hall, her usual smugness nowhere in sight.

Zayn leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against my ear. "You like the attention?"

I smirked. "Please. I  live for it."

He chuckled, his grip tightening slightly around my hand as we made our way toward the dance floor. Fay and Blair were already there, looking way too excited.

Fay practically bounced up to us. "Finally! Took you two long enough!"

Blair just smirked knowingly. "Prom power couple right here."

Cole appeared beside them, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah, they look good. But are we gonna dance or what?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're the most impatient person I know."

"And proud of it."

Zayn just pulled me closer, his hand resting on my waist. "Ignore them. Dance with me."

I exhaled, my heart doing a weird little flip as the music slowed.

The world faded as we moved together, the soft melody wrapping around us like a cocoon.

Zayn's gaze was locked onto mine, intense, unwavering.

"You know," he murmured, "I'm still mad at you for the whole 'hiding-your-identity' thing."

I smirked, tilting my head. "And yet, here you are, dancing with me."

He sighed dramatically. "Yeah. It's annoying how much I like you."

My heart skipped a beat, but I just grinned, pressing closer. "You're stuck with me now, Carter."

His grip tightened. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

And then, without warning, he dipped me slightly, his lips brushing against mine.

It was soft. Slow. But there was something deeper behind it—something that sent warmth flooding through me.

When we finally pulled away, I could hear people cheering.

Fay and Blair were literally screaming, and even Cole was grinning.

I just looked up at Zayn, breathless.

He smirked. "Told you I'd kiss you again when you weren't on pain meds."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and dance, Carter."

And so, we did.