One Temptation

The Dinner Dilemma (Chapter 3)

The dinner is here :)

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I'd been staring out my window for what had to be five minutes straight, maybe six if you count the time I zoned out imagining throwing something at West's face.

Across the street, through the dim orange glow of the streetlights, sat his house — the house of Satan himself, also known as Kaleb West.

And yes, unfortunately, he only lived one street down, and he was across from me. Close enough that if I leaned far enough out my window, I could see his room, and I could practically hear his stupid laugh. (Trust me, I'd tested that theory. Big mistake.)

Most girls at school would literally sell their souls to live where I do. At one point, I did enjoy watching their faces fall when I mentioned it. I mean, who wouldn't? It was like owning front-row seats to the hottest disaster in town.

And for a while, I did enjoy the chaos — the late-night arguments, the stolen glances if both our windows were open, the occasional shouting matches that somehow ended in laughter or doors slamming.

Now? I mostly enjoyed glaring at his house.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and exhaled, watching my reflection blur. He was probably getting ready for the dinner. The dinner I was supposed to be excited about. The dinner that made me want to fake food poisoning.

Then it hit me — I was literally staring at West's house, thinking about West getting ready. Great. Creepy stalker behavior achieved.

I sighed, dramatic as ever. "God, I need a hobby."

I still had twenty-five minutes before dinner, which meant I should've been getting ready, but honestly? I doubted they would show up anytime before seven.

Right on cue, Mum yelled from downstairs. "Madi! Be ready by seven, okay? Linda just texted — they'll be late!"

Linda. West's mum. The woman who had basically co-parented me at this point. She was sweet, caring, and completely blind to the fact that her son was the human embodiment of an unsharpened pencil — pointless and annoying.

Still, she'd always been there for me. Even when West was, well... West. Which, now that I think about it, was probably why he hated me. He thought I'd turned his mum against him. To be fair, I might have — but he totally deserved it.

"Don't worry, Mum! I'll be ready!" I yelled back, already distracted.

I grabbed my sketchbook and flopped onto my bed. Drawing always helped me chill. Or at least it did until I realised thirty minutes had disappeared and Mum would actually murder me if I wasn't downstairs soon.

So I got up and got ready.

My dress was this long, flowy pink thing that cinched at the waist just right. I paired it with gold dangly earrings and a stack of bracelets that jingled every time I moved. My hair fell in loose curls over my shoulders, and I kept my makeup soft, just enough to make it look like I'd tried without trying too hard.

When I finally went downstairs, it was 6:50 p.m., and the house smelled like lasagne — Mum's signature "we're trying to impress people we actually like" dish. And dessert? Chocolate fudge cake. My literal weakness.

I was just helping Mum set the table when the doorbell rang.

Aiden, my little brother, sprinted for the door. Sixteen years old, a walking menace, and somehow still one of the few people I could tolerate.

"Welcome!" Mum said, her voice all warm and cheery as Linda walked in, followed by Simon — West's dad, aka someone I never really got to know.

He gave a polite nod to my dad, barely glancing at the rest of us. I'd never liked him much, and judging by West's permanent scowl whenever Simon was around, the feeling was mutual.