---- Chapter 6 Ally Gomez POV: He came back to the apartment that evening, a white bandage wrapped artfully around his head. A war hero returning from battle. \'Hey,\" he said, his voice carefully subdued, as if he were still in pain. | was sitting on the sofa, staring at a blank television screen. | had spent the day in a fog of pure, unadulterated horror. \ "Hey,\" | replied, my own voice a monotone. He came over, trying to sit beside me and put an arm around me. \"I' m sorry about last night,\" he murmured into my hair, his tone thick with fake contrition. \"For getting you into that mess.\" | flinched away from his touch. \'Look,\" he said, trying to sound wounded. \"! got my head split open for you. The least you can do is not be mad at me anymore, right?\" His hand started to creep toward my thigh. He wanted his reward for his grand performance. \"You think this is all about sex, don't you?\" | asked, my voice trembling with a rage so profound it felt like it was dissolving ---- me from the inside out. \"That' s all | am to you.\" \"Of course not!\" he answered instantly, the lie slipping from his tongue with practiced ease. \'! like you, Ally. Your body is just a very, very nice bonus.\" A laugh escaped my lips. It was a broken, hysterical sound that was more sob than mirth. | looked at him then, really looked at the handsome face that had been the vessel of all my dreams and all my pain. My eyes were cold, desolate, and utterly empty. He shifted under my gaze, a flicker of unease in his eyes. He wasn't used to this. He was used to me melting, forgiving, believing. \'I' m going out,\" he said abruptly, standing up and grabbing his jacket. He couldn' t stand the silence, the judgment in my eyes. He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in the blessed, ringing silence. | knew he wouldn't be back that night. He needed an audience that would appreciate his performance. A few days later, the president of my honors society cornered me after a lecture. \"Ally! The fall barbecue is this weekend,\" she said brightly. \"You have to come! And please, please bring Branson. We' re all trying to network for internships at Ayers Global.\" More of the same. | was a conduit. A connection to power and influence. | mumbled that |' d ask him. | sent Branson a ---- perfunctory text, fully expecting him to ignore it. To my surprise, he showed up at the barbecue on Saturday. And he brought Kennedy with him. She was clinging to his arm, laughing at something he' d said, looking for all the world like she belonged there. \'Kennedy wanted to come along,\" Branson said to me, his tone flat, offering no apology. He glanced at me, his gaze impersonal, as if looking at a stranger he was forced to acknowledge. My heart, that stupid, stubborn organ, gave a familiar, painful squeeze. | just nodded, turning back to the grill. The entire event was torture. | watched as Branson doted on her. He grilled her steak just the way she liked it, cut it into pieces for her, and fetched her drinks. He listened with rapt attention as she talked, his focus entirely, completely on her. It was a level of care, of gentle intimacy, that | had never once received from the man | thought was my boyfriend. In two years, | had been the one to cook for him, to bring him coffee during late-night study sessions, to make sure his life ran smoothly. I' d told myself he was just naturally reserved, that he wasn' t a demonstrative person. Now | saw the truth. He wasn't cold. He just wasn't warm to me. ---- | watched as Kennedy wrinkled her nose at the pickles in her salad and, with a casual flick of her fork, deposited them into Branson' s bowl. And Branson, the man who had a borderline pathological obsession with cleanliness, who had once given me the silent treatment for an entire evening because my fork had accidentally touched his plate, simply picked up his own fork and ate the pickles without a second thought. In that moment, | understood. There are no principles, no unbreakable habits, when it comes to the person you truly love. You will break any rule for them. | was just never that person for him. Later, the group started a game of truth or dare. Kennedy lost a round and was dared to take three shots of tequila. Before she could even protest, Branson had taken the glasses and downed all three himself. A few rounds later, it was my turn. My dare was to eat a piece of grilled chicken slathered in the world' s hottest hot sauce. The fiery pain exploded in my mouth. My eyes watered, and | started coughing, my throat on fire. | instinctively looked toward Branson for a glass of water, for a shred of concern. He was busy laughing at something Kennedy had whispered in his ear. He didn' t even notice. The last sliver of my heart turned to stone. Eventually, the crowd thinned out, with most of the students gathering around Branson to ask about his father' s company. ---- | was left at the picnic table with only Kennedy for company. She turned to me, her sweet facade dropping away to reveal the viper beneath. \"It must be hard,\" she said, her voice dripping with faux sympathy, \"being his girlfriend but having him ignore you completely. But then again, what did you expect?\" | said nothing, just sipped my water. VA girl with your background, with those disgusting photos all over the internet,\" she continued, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. \"You' re an embarrassment. You were never good enough for him. You were just a temporary distraction. A toy. And now he' s tired of playing with you.\" Her words were meant to be daggers, but | was already dead inside. They bounced off the numb armor | had built around myself. She seemed annoyed by my lack of reaction. As she opened her mouth to say something else, a waiter carrying a tray of fresh charcoal for the grill tripped. The tray went flying, sending a cascade of glowing red embers right towards us. Kennedy screamed. In a flash, Branson was moving. He launched himself across the space between them, not towards me, his actual girlfriend, but towards her. He threw his arms around Kennedy, turning his own body to shield her, his back taking the brunt of the flying, red-hot coals. Title: A Princess? No! I'm the Female General! In "A Princess? No! I'm the Female General!" by CrushReel, Adela Taylor, a noble family's daughter, disguises herself as her brother to secure their Duke title by joining the army. 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