Tethered Light

Chapter 4: A Room Full of Noise

I almost didn't go.

The idea of cramming into a house full of people, all talking over each other, laughing too loud, and spilling cheap drinks onto already-sticky floors wasn't my idea of fun. But Olivia's voice stayed with me all day, her invitation—or was it a challenge?—lingering at the edges of my thoughts.

But, by the time the sun set, I'd made up my mind.

The party was off-campus, in one of those old houses students rented in groups too big for the space. The walls practically shook with music as I approached, and I hesitated on the porch, wondering if anyone would even notice if I turned around and left.

Before I could decide, the door swung open.

"Heather!" Olivia's voice cut through the noise, sharp and warm all at once.

She stood in the doorway, her dark curls a little messier than usual, her grin effortlessly disarming. She held a drink in one hand, and her other was already reaching for me, pulling me inside before I could protest.

"You made it," she said, her tone laced with something that felt like approval.

"Yeah," I said, trying not to trip over a pair of shoes someone had left in the hallway. "Figured I'd give it a shot."

"Good," she said, leaning in slightly. "You should do that more often."

She let go of my wrist and disappeared into the crowd before I could respond, leaving me in the middle of a sea of strangers.

***

The living room was packed, bodies pressed together as the music thumped through the walls. I stuck close to the edge of the room, trying not to attract any attention.

Olivia moved through the crowd like she owned it, her laughter rising above the music, her presence magnetic. People gravitated toward her, hanging on her words, vying for her attention. But every now and then, I'd catch her glancing my way, her eyes finding me across the room like she was making sure I hadn't left.

"Heather, right?"

I turned to see Madison, the same girl from rehearsal, the one with the sharp tongue and the knowing smirk. She was holding a red solo cup, leaning against the wall like she'd been there forever.

"Yeah," I said.

"Thought I saw you hiding over here," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Enjoying the show?"

"What show?"

She nodded toward Olivia, who was in the center of the room, gesturing animatedly as she told some story that had everyone around her in stitches.

"Olivia Parker, star of her own drama," the girl said, raising her cup in a mock toast.

I didn't respond, unsure if I was supposed to laugh or agree.

"She likes you, you know," the girl said after a moment, her tone softer now.

"What?"

"Olivia. She's been watching you all night."

I shook my head, brushing off the comment. "She's just being friendly."

The girl gave me a look that said she didn't believe me but didn't push it further. Instead, she clinked her cup against mine—even though mine was empty—and disappeared back into the crowd.

***

By the time Olivia found me again, the party had started to thin out, the music quieter now, conversations turning softer. She appeared at my side like she'd always been there, holding out a drink.

"You've been awfully quiet," she said, her voice low enough that I had to lean in to hear her.

"Just taking it all in," I said, accepting the drink even though I wasn't sure I wanted it.

She tilted her head, studying me with that same piercing gaze that made me feel like I was standing under a spotlight. "You're different."

"Different how?"

"Most people in a room like this want to be seen. You... don't."

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "I don't see the point."

She smiled at that, a small, almost private smile, like she understood something I didn't. "Maybe that's why I noticed you."

Her words hung between us, heavy with something unspoken.

For a moment, the noise of the party faded, the world shrinking down to just the two of us. Olivia leaned against the wall beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.

"Do you always keep people at arm's length?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.

"Maybe," I said. "Do you always ask so many questions?"

She laughed, the sound low and warm. "Only when I want to know the answers."

I glanced at her, unsure if she was teasing me or being sincere. Probably both.

"What's your story, Heather?" she asked after a moment.

The question caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone has a story. What's yours?"

For a moment, I considered telling her—everything. But the words got stuck in my throat, too heavy to let out.

Instead, I just said, "It's not that interesting."

Olivia frowned like she didn't believe me, but she didn't press. Instead, she reached for my hand, her fingers brushing mine lightly.

"Come on," she said, pulling me toward the door. "I want to show you something."

"What?"

"You'll see."

Before I could argue, she was leading me outside, the cool night air wrapping around us as we left the noise and chaos of the party behind.