The Bigg's house was packed wall to wall with music, heat, and teens in costume. Orange lights flickered like a heartbeat around the walls, the scent of popcorn, cologne, and sweat mixing into something weirdly nostalgic. Hughie Biggs' Halloween birthday party was in full swing — and Patrick Feely was trying not to stare across the room at the girl he wasn’t allowed to love out loud.

Lizzie Young tugged on his sleeve, drawing him back into their plan. "They’re both looking," she whispered, fingers tightening on the lapel of his Gomez Addams coat. She was Morticia — sultry, sharp-eyed, and dramatic, obviously. She had roped him into the couples costume, saying it would definitely make Hughie and Patrick's best friend jealous.

But when Patrick’s eyes drifted back over Lizzie’s shoulder, she was there — his best friend. His angel. Literally. White silk wings pinned to her back, a halo glowing faintly over her hair, and that soft, confused look in her eyes as she watched him dance with someone else. Viv stood beside her in red with a devilish smirk, whispering something into her ear. She didn’t smile back.

It hurt. Sharp and immediate.

“You want her to notice you, right?” Lizzie said, pushing closer into him, eyes darting to Hughie across the room — dressed as a Edward from Pretty Woman matching with Katie. “Then kiss me. Right now. They’re both watching.”

“Liz—”

“Do it. Come on, Patrick.”

And because he was seventeen, and dumb, and full of aching hope that maybe this would work — he did. He leaned down and kissed Lizzie Young right there in the middle of the dance floor. It was short. Polished. Like a movie kiss performed for an audience.

When he pulled back, Lizzie’s triumphant expression faltered. She glanced over his shoulder at Hughie, smirking one second, scowling the next.

Then Patrick turned.

And saw her.

The girl who knew him better than anyone. The one he talked to every night. The one who had helped him through the hurtful words of his da. The one he never told he loved because he was terrified of ruining her.

She stood completely still, angel wings wilting slightly behind her. Her eyes were glassy. Her lips parted like she was about to say something but couldn’t find the words. Then, quietly, she turned away, tugging Viv along toward the stairs.

“Shit,” Patrick whispered.

Lizzie looked up at him, frowning.

“She’s heartbroken,” he said, blinking hard. “I made her heart break.”

And suddenly, no part of this plan felt clever at all.