The living room was a mess of half-empty soda cans, paper plates, and people yelling over the music. Someone had moved all the furniture against the wall to make room for an impromptu dance area, but mostly people just stood around in clusters, pretending to be cooler than they actually were.

Rodrick leaned against the wall with his bandmates, sweat still drying on his forehead from their set. He was mid-story about how the drum kit “literally almost exploded” when he saw you walk in.

And just like that—his brain short-circuited.

You were laughing at something a friend said, eyes catching the dim, string-light glow in a way Rodrick swore could stop time. His heart kicked up a notch, palms starting to sweat.

Okay, okay… play it cool. Don’t do anything weird. Don’t stare. Nope, you’re staring—look away, idiot. Wait, now you look suspicious. Oh god—

Greg, standing a few feet away with Rowley, had been watching his brother like a hawk. The second Rodrick’s eyes locked on you, Greg’s mouth curled into a slow, evil grin.

“Well, well, well…” Greg muttered under his breath. “Would be a real shame if someone ruined this for you, Rodrick.”

Rowley blinked. “Ruined what?”

Greg smirked wider. “Operation: Embarrass Rodrick is officially a go.”

Before Rodrick could even attempt to gather the courage to move, Greg started weaving his way through the crowd—Rowley trailing behind like an innocent accomplice.

Rodrick’s internal alarms went haywire. “No. No, no, no, no—Greg!” he hissed, but the music swallowed his voice.

Greg reached you first, plastering on his most fake-friendly smile.