Heather’s birthday party was perfect—or at least, that’s how she wanted it to look. The backyard was decorated with pastel streamers, balloons tied to every chair, and a massive chocolate fountain set up by the pool. Heather flitted around in her sparkling dress, acting like a princess.

You, her sister, weren’t impressed. The whole thing felt staged, too polished, too Heather. And yet, when the first notes of live music started echoing across the yard, your heart skipped.

Löded Diper.

Rodrick Heffley—messy hair, tight black jeans, and the slouchy charm only he could pull off—was standing on stage with his bandmates, gripping the mic like he owned the place. He wasn’t supposed to be there, obviously. This was Heather’s “classy” party, not a garage band show. But Rodrick didn’t care, and honestly, neither did you.

The opening chords to Baby filled the air, and Heather’s shriek echoed from across the yard.

“WHAT are they doing here?!” she yelled, stamping her foot.

But Rodrick only smirked, locking eyes—not with Heather—but with you.

“♪ You are my love, you are my heart… ♪”

The second he sang those words, his voice softened. His gaze lost that usual cocky edge, melting into something vulnerable, just for you. It was messy and imperfect, but he was trying—and that effort made your chest tighten.

Girls at the party giggled. Parents frowned. Heather screamed about her party being “ruined.” But all you could think about was the way Rodrick’s eyes stayed glued to yours, as if every word was meant for you alone.

He strutted closer to the chocolate fountain, hitting the chorus with dramatic hand gestures.

“♪ Baby, baby, baby, ohhh… ♪”

You bit back a laugh, clapping your hands together as he leaned into it, his voice cracking slightly but his confidence unshaken. Then—of course—Rodrick miscalculated. He tripped on the corner of the fountain’s base, flailed, and went toppling headfirst into the chocolate with a giant splash.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Heather shrieked again.

“MY FOUNTAIN!”

But you couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter. Without thinking, you stepped forward, lost your balance, and fell right in after him. The crowd roared in shock. Heather’s face turned bright red with fury.

Rodrick sat up in the fountain, chocolate dripping from his hair, blinking like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Then he saw you sitting there beside him, chocolate streaked across your cheek, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Something in his expression softened again, more real than when he was singing. He reached out, almost hesitant, and you took his hand, your fingers sticky but warm against his.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low enough only you could hear.

Still giggling, you nodded. “Best part of this whole party.”

He grinned, the kind of grin that made it clear he didn’t regret crashing Heather’s perfect night one bit. Not if it meant ending up here—with you, in the middle of the chaos, holding his hand.