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"No, not that one—this one. You have to dress to kill, not like you're going out with me," Sandy said, holding up my black sneakers as if they were treasure.
I yanked them out of her hands and gave her a look. "Happy now?"
"Almost. Don't forget a chain."
She smirked like she'd just won a game I didn't know we were playing. I rolled my eyes.
"If I get bored, I'm coming back," I warned. "We still have to be up early tomorrow."
We'd spent the entire day apartment-hunting and found nothing but overpriced shoeboxes. I never imagined finding a place to live could be this exhausting.
"You didn't have to wear a hoodie," she said as I locked the door behind me. "That house will be hot with all those people inside."
Today's outfit—Sandy's choice, of course—was black baggy jeans, a plain black T-shirt, gold chain, and the black sneakers she'd insisted on.
"I seriously need to go shopping," I muttered, ignoring her comment. "I barely brought enough clothes."
She swung her hair behind her shoulder, her pink sleeveless top and white shorts bouncing along with her. "Well, obviously, you're taking me with you. I have taste."
"Unfortunately," I said under my breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
We stepped out to the car. Her mood was all sunshine and glitter; mine was… storm clouds and static.
"Is your boyfriend coming?" I asked as she started the engine.
"No. He has to work."
"He must really trust you," I said, watching the city lights blur by.
She let out a soft laugh. "He does."
I nodded, but my mind drifted. I wasn't sure how I felt about the party—nervous, curious, maybe even a little excited. It had been a long time since I'd been surrounded by that many strangers. A part of me whispered I shouldn't go. But another part of me… needed the noise.
I didn't realize we'd arrived until Sandy tapped my shoulder.
"Hey, we're here!"
"Mmmh."
"Were you daydreaming with your eyes open again? Never mind, let's go."
Outside, the house pulsed with music so loud it made the ground vibrate. Laughter and shouting spilled from every corner. People were everywhere—leaning against cars, stumbling across the lawn, clutching bottles and tumblers. Some were smoking, others already making out. The air stank of booze, sweat, and vomit. Someone had clearly partied too hard too early.
"Come on," Sandy said, grabbing my hand and weaving through the chaos. My ears rang with bass, my body brushing against strangers as we pushed through the crowd. The irritation was instant.
We finally reached what looked like the kitchen. A blond girl in tight blue jeans and a black crop top practically launched herself at Sandy.
"Enough, you're gonna crush her," a guy behind her laughed, pulling her gently away.
"This is Derek," Sandy said, pointing at him. "And this is Rachel—Derek's girl."
"And her best friend," Rachel added with a grin so wide it almost looked like it hurt.
Rachel buzzed with energy, like she ran on five energy drinks and good vibes. I couldn't imagine her and Sandy in the same room without causing chaos.
"Nice to finally meet you. We've heard a lot," Derek said, extending his hand.
I hesitated before shaking it, earning a few surprised looks. "Nice to meet you too," I said flatly.
Derek tried to make small talk. Rachel joined in, asking questions about my course—Economics—while telling me he was in law school. He said his sister would be in the same class as me. I hoped he didn't expect us to be friends.
Rachel bragged about doing nursing with Sandy, saying "best friend" one too many times. I nodded, smiled when expected, and quietly wished for an escape route.
Salvation came in the form of more people. Crates of beer and whiskey appeared, carried by the rest of Sandy's friends.
Abby came in last—white mini skirt, black crop top, white jacket. Her hug with Sandy was tight, but when her eyes landed on me, a soft blush crept up her cheeks.
"I'm Abby," she said, holding my gaze like it was something fragile. "Sandy's been giving us excuses not to meet you."
Behind her were Mikey, covered in tattoos; John, with his too-large glasses; and Justin, tall with long, messy hair. They all seemed to know me—thanks to Sandy's big mouth.
After too many introductions, I mumbled something about the washroom and slipped away.
The line to the bathroom was long. I almost turned around when I felt a light touch on my shoulder—gentle, but firm enough to stop me.
I spun around, ready to snap, but the words died in my throat.
She stood there—close enough for me to smell her perfume. Warm. Clean. A little like vanilla. Her eyes caught mine, steady and calm, like she wasn't just some stranger at a loud party.
"Sorry," she said quickly, pulling her hand back. A nervous smile flickered at her lips. "I didn't mean to startle you. You just… looked a little lost."
I wasn't lost. Not in the way she thought. But the way she looked at me—steady, unshaken—made it hard to move.
"Come on," she said, tilting her head toward the hallway. "I'll show you a free one."
And for some stupid reason, I followed.
She walked ahead, small but confident. Her black hair spilled down her back like silk. Her waist curved delicately, the kind of shape that made people look twice. She glanced back once, catching me staring, and smiled like she knew.
She led me to a pink-and-white room with a spotless bathroom.
"Here," she said softly.
"Thanks," I muttered, not trusting my voice.
I closed the door behind me and exhaled like I'd been holding my breath. After freshening up, I returned to the hallway, brushing off some girl trying to flirt with me. I wasn't in the mood.
Back near the bar, Sandy caught my wrist.
"Come dance," she said.
"No. You know I can't," I replied, pulling away.
She pouted dramatically, but I slipped toward the counter.
One shot. Two. Three. The burn in my throat dulled everything else. The music blurred into static.
A guy tried to talk to me. I ignored him until he gave up.
Then she appeared. The same girl from the hallway.
"Hey," she said lightly. "If you're planning to go home, that's probably enough."
"Mind your own fucking business," I slurred, my voice harsher than I meant.
She didn't flinch. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and chuckled softly.
"Still an asshole even when drunk, huh?"
"What the hell do you want?" I muttered.
"You," she said simply.
No hesitation. No stuttering. Just truth sliding off her tongue like it belonged there.
Before I could react, she leaned in and kissed me—soft, quick, enough to make my heart lurch against my ribs.
"Wanna leave?" she whispered.
I didn't think. I just nodded.
I told Sandy I was heading out. She looked at the girl beside me and smirked knowingly. Minutes later, we were in her car, engine humming beneath us, the night air slipping through the windows.
For the first time that night, the noise was behind me.
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