Continued!

“Next sleepover’s gotta be epic,” Jasmine said, her voice sharp with mischief. Danny pictured her—short, wiry, with a grin that promised trouble. She’d once stuck gum under a lecture hall desk; he’d seen it happen.

“Costume night?” Riley countered, her tone clipped and confident.

The jock of the group, all lean muscle and competitive fire—Danny had watched her spike a volleyball like it owed her money.

“Gotta film it,” Sophie added, probably already scrolling her phone. Tech-obsessed and eagle-eyed, she’d caught him staring at Lila once and smirked like she’d cracked his PIN code.

“Let’s make it legendary,” Lila said, her words laced with that effortless charm. “Pranks, games, the whole deal.”

Danny’s chest tightened, a dull ache spreading beneath his ribs. A sleepover. Her sleepover. A glittering, chaotic universe he’d never touch—not as Danny, the invisible pizza boy. He pedaled home, the cold biting at his knuckles, Lila’s voice looping in his head. What if he could be there? Not just dropping off a pie—belonging.

His apartment was a dump—peeling paint, a couch that sagged like it was tired of life, and a fridge that buzzed like a dying insect. His roommate was out, probably chasing cheap beer at some dive bar, leaving Danny alone with the hum of the city beyond the thin walls. He flopped onto the couch, the pizza smell still clinging to his shirt, and stared at the water-stained ceiling. Lila’s face swam into view—those eyes, that laugh, the way she turned heads without even trying. He’d spent months orbiting her from a distance: across lecture halls, down crowded corridors, through that damn sorority window. She didn’t know his name. Probably didn’t even register him as human.

“What if I could get in?” he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He laughed—a dry, nervous bark—at the sheer stupidity of it. Sneak into a girls-only sleepover? They’d boot him out faster than a burnt crust. Unless…