The World According to Susie

Ch22: The End of The Night

The mansion buzzed with energy, the kind that only came with important people in expensive clothes pretending not to notice each other. Glasses clinked in the kitchen. Crisp autumn leaves crunched under expensive loafers outside. The cool October air crept in through the open doors, but inside, the hors d'oeuvres table was the real star of the evening, radiating warmth and culinary chaos.

The crowd was finally thinning, drifting into the night like glittering phantoms. That left Georgia and me alone with what really mattered: the snacks. I was doing my best, but Georgia? She was on a mission, attacking the hors d'oeuvres like she'd been training for this moment her entire life.

"Henry John always has the most impressive spread," Georgia said, her voice muffled by what had to be three cheeses, a cracker, and possibly half a grape.

I watched her from a distance, mesmerized. She was stunning. Objectively, painfully stunning. Even as she inhaled cheese cubes like a sentient vacuum cleaner, I couldn't help but laugh.

She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion as she shoved another piece of brie into her mouth.

"You," I blurted before I could stop myself.

That got her attention. She froze mid-bite, the world seeming to slow around us. The light from the chandelier above hit her just right, illuminating her face like some kind of divine intervention. Her expression changed—serious, unreadable, like she'd just stepped out of a moody indie film.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Do I have something on my face?"

She reached for her phone to check her reflection, but I stopped her with the truth before I could even think it through.

"I'm staring at you," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth unfiltered.

And then... silence.

The tension between us was palpable, like the crackle of static before lightning strikes. My hand wavered, then slowly put my plate down, as though the weight of my feelings had suddenly made it unbearable.

"Georgia," I said softly, the word heavy with everything I wanted to tell her.

Her expression was unreadable, her eyes fixed on mine in a way that made my heart pound in my ears. She opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. Was she confused? Shocked? Horrified?

"Did you just say something?" she asked, her tone casual—too casual—as she picked at the snack table, filling another plate.

The moment shattered.

"NOPE! Nothing at all! Uh, actually, I—I need the bathroom!" My voice shot up an octave, and before she could respond, I grabbed my tiny purse and bolted.

The halls of the mansion were a maze, but I managed to find the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it as my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. My reflection in the ornate mirror stared back at me, flushed, panicked, and so embarrassing.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed at myself, gripping the edges of the sink like it could somehow ground me. "You're not the lead in a rom-com! You're the quirky best friend who spills wine on the protagonist's wedding dress!"

I splashed water on my face, trying to calm down. But the second my thoughts drifted back to Georgia—the way she'd looked at me, the warmth in her voice when she'd talked about Henry John's snacks—my cheeks burned again.

Taking a deep breath, I stared at my reflection.

"Georgia... I like you," I whispered to the mirror, testing the words. They sounded ridiculous, even to me.