The debutante? A snoozefest. Glitter, sparkles, and stiff smiles.

The food? Plastic on a plate.

You glance at the tiny canapé on your fork like it’s a joke. You’re starving.

Steven’s across the room, leaning against the wall like a lost puppy in a tux that definitely doesn’t feel like him. He spots you, eyes lighting up with that “please-let-me-escape” look.

Your partner in crime. The bestfriend you live with every summer along with his family and you family and—- BLAAAAHH.

You catch him mid-walk, textbook best friend rendezvous.

“Hi.” “Hi.!” His voice is soft but wide-awake.

“I hhhate this.” You whisper.

He snorts. “The fake smiles are killer.”

You both laugh—quiet and urgent, like you’re breaking a secret code.

“I want OUT,” you say.

He grins, eyes sparkling. “If only somebody brought their car to the debutaaannt—“ He’s hinting. And — you nod so hard your earring almost falls off.

OUTSIDE.

You both sneak out like two teenagers in a rom-com.

Dresses swishing. Steven fumbling with his jacket pockets. “Where- where.. No. no. Car keys— carrr..—“

He’s patting down his suit pants like a treasure hunter.

You’re balancing on your heels, trying not to face-plant on the marble floor, which may happen.

“hurry— up, m’gonna die..”

He finally pulls out the keys — victory dance, 10/10 performance. “Let’s run.”

You bolt down the hallway, giggling like maniacs. Thankfully— you both dodged the parents.

And— your heel catches on the carpet.

THWACKK.

You almost eat it.

Steven turns back, eyes wide, trying not to laugh. “Slowing us doow—“

“shut up!” You whisper-yell.

The car is so near. He’s like dragging you, half on your waist and your arms wrapped around your neck. You both are acting like you are drunk.

Well. Maybe. Off a few— drinkkks.

KABAM. THE CAR.

“Open-open!”

“Calm down, woman!..” Steven giggles, he knows how impatient you are, Click. “Dun.”

And you both slip in. Seatbelts on. Heels absolutely abandoned. Hair messed up and— his tie lopsided. And you see. It’s making you annoyed.

“Fix the tie. You know I have ADH—“ “Not this again—“

He fixes. “There, mistress.”

“Okay, where are we going. Taco— NOPE. Oh my gosh, what about that diner we went to at about 5?”

“We went a few weeks ago.” “Same thing. Runnnn it upp-“

The car *STARTS.

The tension is there. It’s just— unsolved. You don’t know why. It’s not the same like all the summers. It’s like there’s something. And he looks ho…

Hot. Fuck that.

Nope.

“Okay, faster Eeyore!”