Continued!

The heels, scuffed and unforgiving, pinched his toes with every shaky breath, threatening to topple him before he even began. He’d spent all day locked in his apartment, perfecting

“Diana”—the shy, soft-spoken freshman he’d conjured to infiltrate Lila’s sleepover—rehearsing her high-pitched “Hi” and wobbly walk in front of a cracked mirror. But now, staring at the heavy oak door with its brass lion knocker, every ounce of that preparation felt like a fragile lie. Inside, the muffled roar of 10–15 girls—laughter, chatter, and pulsing pop music—promised chaos, and Danny’s heart thudded against his ribs.

This was his shot to be near Lila, the radiant senior he’d worshipped from afar, but slipping past a crowd unnoticed felt like threading a needle in a storm. Don’t get caught, he chanted silently, adjusting the wig with a trembling hand, and raised his fist to knock. The door swung open mid-motion, and Danny lurched forward, the pizza box tipping precariously.

Lila stood framed in the entryway, her loose tank top slipping off one shoulder, plaid pajama shorts hugging her hips, her messy bun a crown of effortless perfection. Her hazel eyes flicked over him, and a sly smile curled her lips—sharp, knowing, like a predator sizing up prey. “Here to help?” she drawled, her voice lilting with an edge he couldn’t decipher.

“Come on in.” Danny’s throat tightened, but he nodded—too quick, too eager—and shuffled inside, the heels clacking on the hardwood like a drumroll announcing his doom. The living room was a whirlwind of light and sound.

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