❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter eighteen: a rocky road to forgiveness
[a/n]: enjoy the chapter!
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( 🥥🐚🌺 )
𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･━━━ "BALLOONS, CHECK. ICE SCULPTURE, CHECK. CAKE, check. DJ, kind-of check. He's been a little bit flaky with the plans, says he's super booked or some shit," Heather mumbles, scrawling in her notebook in her loopy handwriting. Her 17th birthday is quickly arriving, and like Heather, she'd like to make it the most memorable party of the entire year, so she's taking the decorations and party favors to an extreme.
"DJs are cool, for sure, but are you sure you don't want a live band? That would definitely make yours a party to remember," Olive suggests, peering over Heather's shoulder at her mini notepad.
"And what band would that be?" Heather shoots back, combing a stressed hand through her golden blonde hair. "The ones in Plainview are all super lame and filled with kids who desperately need to find a real hobby."
"Touché," Olive replies shortly.
"I'm inviting some cute guys I met at tennis camp last summer, guys I think you'd totally like, Lizzy," Heather says, grinning mischievously.
"Fantastic," Lisbeth replies dryly, clearly unenthusiastic. This prospect is rather shocking, really, because Lisbeth used to be more interested in these kinds of things. Casual hookups, mostly, that she would wash herself of the next day (she wasn't interested in long-term relationships with these boys, because God forbid something draw Lisbeth Wright from her academics), but she had still been excited about it. Something had changed recently. "And what do you think I like in guys?"
"Good eye-candy," Heather ideates, "complete and utter pushovers, etcetera."
"Hm," is all that comes out of Lisbeth's mouth in response.
The quartet (Lisbeth, Olive, Heather, and Haley) enter the air-conditioned ice cream parlor, marveling at the quaint decor and the fresh smell of sorbet flavors and waffle cones. Haley's eyes scan the tiny gold placards, her indecision weighing on her shoulders.
Her serenity can't last long, however, because the shop's bell trills once more as a new customer files in. In all of his black-eyeliner, punk-rock glory, is Rodrick Heffley with his stupid walk and stupid demeanor and stupid mannerisms striding into the parlor like he owns the place.
"Oh, fancy seeing you here!" Rodrick says cheerily, in a tone that suggests this encounter is most definitely not by chance.
"Sure, 'fancy seeing me here.' On the contrary, I'd say I've got a bit of a stalker," Haley retorts, crossing her arms and receiving her friends' inquisitive glances with a shrug and an eye-roll towards the overconfident boy looming over them currently.
"You think too highly of yourself," Rodrick tells her fondly.
"My ego tends to inflate when I learn that I have obsessive fans," Haley spits, her eyes narrowing at him. She shrinks back into the comfort of her friends.
"Sure, we'll call it that. But while I'm here, I think I should treat the princess to a little something." Rodrick winks at Haley (which she replies to by fake-gagging) and reaches into his pocket for his wallet.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐆 ✷ rodrick heffley (✓)
Fanfiction❛ but she doesn't know who i am, and she doesn't give a damn about me ❜ ━━ RODRICK HEFFLEY X OC ━━ ENEMIES TO LOVERS/FAKE DATING ━━ i do not own the diary of a wimpy kid series
