A Recipe for Disaster

see you again

It was the day of the party, and I wanted to be anywhere but there.

But when someone holds blackmail over you, you have no choice but to play along, even when every instinct is telling you to bail. I sighed, resigning myself to the reality that if I had to go, I might as well look presentable.

While rummaging through my closet, my phone lit up with a message from Ryder.

beanbug:
Do you still need that ride?

Me:
Yeah. But don't come inside. Just text me when you're here. Park two houses away.

beanbug:
kk

I tossed my phone onto the bed, my gaze landing on a white dress I hadn't worn since June. Thin straps and a fitted cut made it feel elegant, almost too elegant for tonight's chaos. But it will probably have alcohol and food, so fancy enough!

After slipping into the dress, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Mascara, a hint of blush, gloss, and concealer. The dress hugged my figure like it was made for me, though it felt shorter than I remembered, just grazing my thighs.

Had I that much grown? I smiled at myself, feeling surprisingly confident, and pulled my hair into a high ponytail. I grinned once more as I twirled around my room, then quickly threw on baggy pants to dodge my parents' judgments about 'how clothes that are not until your knees make you look like a stripper'

Five minutes later, Ryder's text appeared on my screen.

beanbug:
I'm here.

Me:
Be there in a minute.

I grabbed my purse and rushed downstairs. "I'm going to a party!" I called out, heading for the door.

My mom's voice cut through the air like a siren. "Wait, what?" She stared, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"Yes, a party," I repeated, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Like... a birthday party?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I shook my head. "No, a real one. With other teens."

Her expression shifted to a frown. "And this is...safe?"

I nodded quickly. "Graham, Joyce, Marissa, and Malerie will be there," I said, hoping the familiar names would settle her nerves.

Mom sighed, crossing her arms. "Alright, but be back by midnight, don't get into any trouble, and don't—"

"Mom, I promise," I cut in, eager to leave before Ryder grew impatient.

As I reached the door, she asked, "Do you need a ride?"

"Nope! Graham's got it," I lied, bolting toward Ryder's black Ford truck. I yanked the door open, and Ryder jumped, clutching his chest.

"What the hell!" he snapped, scowling.

"Sorry!" I muttered, slipping off the baggy pants I'd thrown on over the dress.

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "the fuck—what are you doing?"

"Relax. I'm just taking off the pants," I mumbled, straightening the dress.

He rolled his eyes as he started the car, but not before looking at me, up and down. "Sure looked like something else."

The silence that settled over us was only broken by the sound of See You Again by Tyler, The Creator. Halfway through the song, Ryder glanced over and said, "Nice dress."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Thanks."

He looked back at the road, one hand on the wheel. "For Graham?"

I nodded, my shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. "Yeah, he'll be there. Just... wanted to make an impression."

Ryder nodded, taking a turn. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks... likewise," I said, giving a half-awkward smile.

He gave me a side-eye, amused as he let out a small chuckle. "Likewise? What are you, 80?"

I let out a sarcastic chuckle, "You're so funny."

"I know," he replied confidently, pulling up to Xavier's three-story, black-and-white house. The bass was thumping, loud enough to feel it from outside.

"Alright," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "We need a plan."

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the car, the song Rather Pretend by Bryant Barnes, know playing, as I try to keep my voice steady. "What's the plan?"

"You're staying close to me the whole night," he stated, his tone firm.

I shook my head instantly, taking a step back. "No, I can't do that. My friends are coming over."

He groaned, the sound full of impatience, as he ran a hand through his hair. "You can see them any other time! Just tonight, stick with me."

I held my ground, arms still crossed, and gave him a defiant look. "I'll stay with you for a bit, but not all night."

He raised an eyebrow, his face shifting to something between frustration and amusement. "Fine. A solid 90% of the night. But listen, you've got to act... well, touchy. Really touchy."

I raised both eyebrows, shaking my head in disbelief. "Touchy? I can barely hold your hand without feeling awkward. Let's not even talk about being touchy."

"I don't care if you're the most awkward person on earth," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Just pretend you're not. Can you do that?"

I sighed, the sound sharp and heavy as I dropped my shoulders, already worn out by the thought. "I'll try. But no promises I will not run out traumitized."

"Good." He nodded, a little too pleased. "And if Matilda's there, you better be the flirtiest person in the room. Go all in. Maybe even... extra."

I crinkled my nose in distaste, stepping back slightly. "Extra? I'm good, thanks."

He smirked, leaning closer. "Come on. I'm sure Graham would love to hear about—"

"Okay, okay!" I cut him off, raising my hands in surrender, then crossing my arms again. "I'll be flirty and... whatever you want. Happy now?"

His grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute as he stepped out of the car. "Perfect."