Doesn't Know

1.8

Edited/Rewritten

Rodrick's fingers drummed idly on the steering wheel, keeping time with the heavy beat of the rock song blasting through the van's speakers. The wheel cover—a skull-and-flames design that Y/n had picked out during a late-night run to Walmart—was worn in places from his habit. His right hand, however, was firmly planted on Y/n's upper thigh, fidgeting absently with a loose thread in her fishnets.

"You know," Y/n muttered, side-eyeing him as his finger tugged at the thin string again, "next year I'm picking the costume, and you're wearing a maid dress or something. This is humiliating."

Rodrick laughed, the kind of deep belly laugh that made his shoulders shake. "As long as I get to look at you wearing what you're wearing right now..." He shot her a quick, devilish smirk before returning his gaze to the road. "I don't care if I'm in a damn chicken suit."

"Sometimes you're unbearable." Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't quite fight the grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Wish I could say the same about you, princess."

Y/n snorted and turned her attention to the glowing orange lights that flickered through the van's window as they approached the party. The house was massive, decked out in every Halloween decoration imaginable, from grinning jack-o'-lanterns to fake cobwebs hanging from the porch railings.

The moment Rodrick parked, Y/n was out of the van, tugging her tiny shorts down and muttering under her breath about how cold it was. She didn't get far before Rodrick caught up, loping around to her side of the van.

"Ditches get stitches," he said smugly, slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That's not how the saying goes."

"Close enough," he shot back, giving her hand a squeeze as he guided her toward the front door.

Rodrick nodded at a guy stationed at the entrance, who gave him a lazy wave in return. Y/n flashed an awkward smile, fully aware she had no clue who the guy was but feeling obligated to be polite. Once inside, they were hit by a wave of noise—music pounding through cheap speakers, laughter, and the occasional off-key scream from someone getting startled by a Halloween decoration.

Y/n's attention zeroed in on the refreshment table, where a giant bowl of red punch sat, surrounded by a mountain of crumpled red Solo cups. Without saying a word, the two bolted toward the table like they were racing. Rodrick laughed as Y/n dipped her cup into the bowl first, scooping up the bright red liquid. She took a sip, immediately grimacing.

"Jesus, someone went heavy on the tequila," she groaned, her nose scrunching up as the alcohol burned its way down her throat.

Rodrick chuckled, leaning back against the table with his own untouched cup. "Go wild. I'm the DD tonight."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Y/n took another sip, wincing again but determined.

Before long, a new song started blasting through the speakers—a bouncy, upbeat track with just enough of a groove to pull Y/n onto the makeshift dance floor. Without warning, she grabbed Rodrick's hand and yanked him toward the crowd of moving bodies.

"Come on!" she yelled over the music, already swaying her hips to the beat.

Rodrick planted his feet stubbornly. "Nope. Not happening."

"Rodrick, please!"

"No way."

Y/n pouted dramatically, but before she could argue further, she felt two unfamiliar hands slide around her waist. She froze, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as she turned her head to find a tall, blonde guy grinning down at her.