"I wasn't the girl every boy noticed ,but I was the girl he noticed , and to me ,that was everything "
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I step out of the car, the chilly Glasgow evening kissing my cheeks as I clutch the two gift bags tightly in my hands.
The sky is just beginning to darken, the pale streetlights flickering to life, casting warm halos in the dusky air. Mr. Thomas, peers at me from his open window.
"I'll wait for you here, Miss Renna," he says with a polite nod.
"Oh, there’s no need for that, Mr. Thomas," I say, mustering a reassuring smile. "You can head back home. Aadam will drop me off later."
He hesitates, glancing toward the bright lights and laughter spilling from the house, “Are you sure, Miss Renna? Sir did mention—”
"I’ll be fine, Mr. Thomas," I cut in, voice firm. Daddy can be a little too protective sometimes, and I know he wouldn’t be thrilled about me staying out late. But I’m seventeen now. I can handle it. “He won’t mind, really. Go home and enjoy your evening. I’ll be with my friends.”
For a second, it looks like he might argue, but he just gives a reluctant nod. “Alright, Miss. But do have a good time, and please, be careful.”
“I will,” I say, giving him a warm smile. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas.”
He drives away slowly, as if hoping I’ll change my mind and call him back. But I don’t.
I take a deep breath and face the house before me. It’s already bustling already—friends mostly, gathered on the porch, laughter and I can hear the muffled bass of the music pulsing from inside.
I smooth my dress, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of him seeing me in this, knowing he’s wearing the matching outfit I’d chosen.
I walk up the driveway, stepping around people lingering near the front steps. The door is wide open, and I slip inside. It’s packed—people everywhere, some I vaguely recognize from classes, others complete strangers.
I weave my way through the crowd, dodging elbows and half-empty cups. I scan faces, looking for my friends . Where are they? For a split second, I feel a pang of nervousness, my steps faltering.
But as I move further into the house, winding through groups of laughing partygoers, they're nowhere in sight. I make my way toward the back of the house, where the living room spills out into the garden.
Then I hear it—Cameron’s unmistakable voice, booming over the crowd. His tone is full of exaggerated enthusiasm. “Come on, George! If you don’t do it tonight, when are you ever gonna grow a spine?”
