Vengeance In Velvet

{Noelle’s POV}

The courtyard smelled like cheap perfume, laughter, and sun-warmed concrete.

Someone’s speaker was leaking music— the kind of mindless beat people danced to when they didn’t have worries, or shame. I stood near the edge of the fountain, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my heart was pounding like it was about to climb out of my chest and beg me to run.

He was there.

Right before me.

Leonard Saint-Claire.

Golden boy. Fashion major— the kind of handsome that was carved to make people hate themselves a little. His laugh carried across the courtyard; unbothered, lazy, like life always bent in his direction.

And it did.

He stood with his usual circle— all glossy hair and loud egos, people who wore their popularity like armor. There was Julian too, leaning against a column with a camera around his neck and his expression soft but distracted. He was the only one who ever looked like he didn’t belong there. The only one who sometimes looked at me like I existed.

But I should have known that attention was dangerous.

“Are you seriously going to just stand here?”

Clara’s voice came from behind me, half-whispered, half-thrilled. My so-called friend, if friendship meant egging me into stupidity. “You’ve been talking about him for weeks, Noelle. Plus you two had been friends once upon a time, so go say hi.”

I shook my head. “That was in another life, Clara. I don’t think he knows I exist now.”

I was scared… and I was meant to be. I knew Leonard properly once, the then-version of him. We had both grown up together in the fashion dream but that was so many years ago. Now, he was someone else, leaving me in the dust of his ascension.

Now, his kind didn’t look like they related with my kind— that’s if I even have a kind.

“He does.” Clara grinned, eyes bright. “Trust me.” She said sweetly but I didn’t know then that trust was the worst currency to spend in these types of places.

I stared now. The sun hit Leonard’s hair just right, turning the strands to gold. His hand moved as he gestured— fluid, commanding, confident. And then, as if the universe conspired against me, his gaze shifted.

And landed.

Right on me.

I froze.

He smiled— small, knowing. The kind of smile that said, I see you, and I know you’re seeing me.

My throat went dry at once and the air felt thinner now but then Clara nudged me forward before I could think of my next move.

And as if that wasn’t scary enough, Leonard was now walking towards us.

No entourage. No sidekick. Just him, crossing the courtyard with that lazy arrogance that said he owned the ground.

“Hey,” he said when he reached me, his voice smooth, unhurried. “Noelle, right? From the design studio?”

I stared.

I couldn’t believe this was real. But then it was.

He remembered who I was and my name on his lips sounded too intimate. Or maybe it was just me.

I nodded now, afraid my voice would crack. “Yeah. That’s.. me.”

“Great. It’s nice to see you again.” His smile deepened. “We’re having a little.. thing tonight— kind of like a celebration. You should come.”

A celebration.

Me?

I have to be stuck in a deep sleep.

Either that or the universe is playing an expensive prank on me.

Clara squealed excitedly beside me now, but I barely heard her. I was too busy staring at Leonard’s eyes— pale grey, like smoke curling around silver. It seemed like genuineness was buried in them and seeing this, I told myself this discussion meant something new. I told myself this was how things changed.

I told myself too many lies…

**

The party was louder than I’d expected.

Music vibrated through the walls of the studio space. Lights glowed low and red, throwing strange shadows on the racks of half-finished champagne bottles and scattered chairs. Everyone looked like they were performing— drinking, laughing, posing for invisible cameras.

And me?

I felt like I was in another world.

I shouldn’t have come alone, but just when I harbored that thought, Leonard found me.

“You came,” he said, his gentle tone calling my attention. I instantly turned to face him and met his warm smile.

He handed me a drink. I don’t drink but I took it, because people like me didn’t refuse people like him.

“You look nervous,” he continued.

“I’m not,”

A lie.

He stepped closer to me now and the scent of his cologne— sandalwood and heat, wrapped around me. “Good. I was starting to think I’d scared you off.” He muttered softly and the air around me felt hot instantly.

I tensed in a shocking-but-I’m-not-complaining way but someone called his name then. He turned away briefly, laughing, answering, and still holding my wrist like I was some fragile accessory he didn’t want to misplace.

Wait!

He’s holding my wrist!

What should I—

He turned back to me now and I was caught off by his motion. I stared at him and noticed his grin had changed. There was something else behind it now— something I didn’t understand.

“Let’s make the night interesting,” he murmured. “You trust me?”

I hesitated.

He saw it, and his smile curved crueler. “Relax, Noelle. It’s just a dare.”

A dare.

I tensed again— a different kind.

The word meant nothing and everything in this school and by the time I realized what Leonard meant, it was already too late.

He pulled me toward the center of the room where everyone was gathered. “Everyone,” he announced, his tone dripping with growing amusement. “You all remember what we said— the final dare of the semester?”

There were so many people and they all responded with cheers.

Phones came out now and I felt the ground slip from under me.

Leonard looked at me again, that same easy smile still carved on his face. “You’re perfect for it,” he said quietly, so only I could hear. “Just play along.”

He leaned down.

His lips brushed mine— and we kissed.

Just like that.

I wasn’t prepared for such warmth but it happened before I could even breathe.

Now?

Now the crowd whooped. Someone clapped. Someone else shouted,

“He did it! That’s the one!”

And then I heard it. The chant.

DARE LINE: “Kiss the Ugliest Girl in the department”.

The laughter that followed was deafening.

Now, I staggered back, breathless, the taste of the blissful kiss slipping from my mouth and the one of humiliation replacing it.

Leonard’s grin faltered for a second— maybe guilt, maybe pride, but I didn’t wait to decipher it. I didn’t want to wait to find out so I turned and pushed my way through the bodies, my vision blurring at once.

I made it outside before the tears came.

The courtyard was empty now, the fountain still gurgling like nothing had happened but then my phone buzzed— messages were already coming in. Tagged photos. Cruel captions.

#Saint-ClaireStrikesAgain.

‘Guess she thought he meant it’.

‘Definition of pathetic’.

I deleted the app before I could read more.

I stood there, shaking now with mascara bleeding down my cheeks— I had made myself up for this. I had dressed well feeling a bit confident, but now, I felt like dirt, my heart barely beating.

Somewhere inside the studio, they were still laughing, very blissfully. I realized this and in that moment, something inside me, something soft but sharp.. snapped.

It didn’t shatter loudly. It just… cracked, like porcelain cooling too fast.

I cleaned my tears roughly— angrily, and promised myself I would never let them see me like this again, miserable.

Not Leonard.

Not anyone.

Not ever.