You weren’t exactly a social butterfly. In fact, your idea of a “grand entrance” usually involved tripping over the doorstep and spilling your drink.

Bee, on the other hand, was everything a party entrance should be: confident, effortless, slightly chaotic, and impossible to ignore.

“So,” she said, leaning against the wall while you nervously adjusted your jacket, “tonight, you’re going to learn how to enter a party like someone people actually remember.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that… necessary?”

“Absolutely,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Because right now, you walk into a room like a confused squirrel. And trust me, no one remembers confused squirrels.”

You groaned. “Fine. Teach me, sensei.”

Bee gestured for you to follow her down the empty hallway of her apartment.

“First,” she said, “attitude. Walk in like you own the room, even if you’re terrified inside. Think of it as… faking confidence until people actually believe it.”

You tried, striding down the hallway with your best serious face.

Bee’s eyes narrowed. “No. No, no, no! You look like a caffeinated penguin. Relax, walk slow, but intentional.”

You did it again. Slightly better. Bee nodded approvingly. “Okay, that’s not terrible.”

“Every entrance needs a move. Something small, but unforgettable.”

She demonstrated: sliding open an imaginary door, one hand in her pocket, a little head tilt, hair flick, smirk, pause for dramatic effect.

“Your turn,” she said.

You tried to imitate it. The hair flick turned into an accidental face-slap. You froze halfway through, half awkward, half embarrassed.

Bee laughed so hard she nearly fell over. “Okay, okay! Not bad… if your goal is to murder the vibe. Watch me again.”

She demonstrated again, this time adding a slow spin as if she were auditioning for a music video. You watched, wide-eyed, trying not to be hypnotized by how effortlessly cool she was.

“You need to combine attitude and move. And smile. But not like… a real smile. A mysterious, ‘I’m way cooler than you’ smile.”

You took a deep breath, imitating her stance. Heart racing.

Bee stepped back. “Do it.”

You swung the imaginary door open. You tried the slow head tilt. The half-smirk. The pause.

And… you tripped over your own feet.

Bee clapped slowly. “Bravo. Stellar. Absolutely terrifying.”

You groaned. “I’m doomed.”

Bee laughed and leaned close. “No, you’re learning. And besides…” she nudged you, grin teasing, “if anyone looks good at a party tonight, it’ll be you and me. You’ve got me helping.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah… yeah, that makes me feel better.”

Bee smirked. “Good. Now we’ll try again tomorrow. And maybe the next day. By Friday? You’ll be untouchable. Party royalty. Or… at least, less like a confused squirrel.”

You sighed, already dreading it—but also secretly looking forward to practicing with her.

Bee winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everyone notices you… and notices me noticing you.”