- sad
- tw: talks of rape/manipulation
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The bass was already pulsing through the foundation of the house when Evelyn pulled into the driveway. A line of parked cars curved around the street, music leaking from rolled-down windows. She'd taken her time getting ready—curled her hair, picked out a deep red dress he always said he loved, and even wore the perfume he bought her last Christmas. The one he said made his heart thump in his chest.
It was Vinnie's 21st birthday.
And despite how big the party was supposed to be, she still felt like she should've been the moment for him tonight.
She stepped out, hugging her coat around her shoulders against the cool breeze. Her heels clicked softly on the driveway as she walked up to the house. The front door was already open, warm yellow light spilling out, and inside, the atmosphere buzzed with energy—laughter, loud music, chatter layered over chatter.
She found him right away.
He was standing near the kitchen, surrounded by some of his roommates, a red solo cup in hand, grinning from ear to ear. The backward snapback on his head tilted just enough to expose the curl of his messy hair, and he looked loose, happy. The kind of happy she loved seeing on him.
He saw her then—his smile flickered as his eyes landed on her.
"Hey!" he said, voice raised over the music, walking over with a swagger in his step. He looked good—black jeans, chain around his neck, that black fitted tee that clung to the definition in his arms. "You made it."
She smiled, trying not to show her disappointment that he hadn't even texted her before the party started.
"Of course I did," she said, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. He gave her a quick one back, then pulled away just as fast.
"I think the rest of the crew's out back," he added, glancing over her shoulder. "Go say hi."
She blinked, then nodded, holding onto the smile she had practiced in the car mirror.
An hour passed in a blur of people she didn't know, laughter that didn't involve her, and drink after drink being passed around like candy. She hung back mostly, nursing the same spiked punch she hadn't even finished. Vinnie had barely been around, swept into a current of people—guys slapping his back, drinks being poured into his mouth like some kind of initiation, his name echoing through the house in cheers.
And then the girls arrived.
A group of them—dressed more for a Vegas club than a house party—stepped inside like they were the main event. Tiny skirts. Cleavage on full display. Lips glossy. Laughter loud. They didn't bother knocking. They were clearly expected.
Vinnie saw them from across the room.
His face lit up.
A smile she hadn't seen all night spread across his face. He actually opened his arms to them, two at a time, hugging them like long-lost friends. They squealed. One even pressed her chest to his when she hugged him, arms slung around his neck like she belonged there.
Evelyn watched from the bottom of the staircase, a tightness creeping into her chest. Her grip on her cup tightened as she watched him laugh, throw his head back, whisper something in the ear of a girl who looked like she'd stepped straight out of a music video.
He hadn't even introduced her.
He hadn't even looked back to check where she was.
The smile on her face faded slowly, until it wasn't a smile at all. Her eyes stung, but she blinked quickly, refusing to let herself cry in a room full of strangers.
