Page 13 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"No." Kiah flops back dramatically. "You will be with me, your very protective roommate, and I’ll be your wing woman to hook up with whoever slipped that invitation into your bag."

The invitation seems to pulse in my hands. My mom always said my curiosity would get me in trouble someday.

Looks like today might be that day.

"Come on." Kiah’s eyes sparkle with mischief. "Don't you want to know who's watching you? Who thought you were interesting enough to invite?"

Watching me? Yes, I want to know. Need to know. Dying to know. Who and why.

My stomach flutters at the thought. It's terrifying and thrilling at the same time, like the moment before a performance. This feeling in my gut is a lot more tempting than Levi’s phone call. Maybe I should feed into it.

"The black dress?" The word comes out barely above a whisper. "Okay. Wait, what about Devon’s party?"

She dismisses that with a hand gesture. "He’ll get over it. I much rather do this."

"Okay," I say. "Then let’s get ready."

Kiah nods excitedly, her eyes gleaming. "Let’s get railed tonight, girl!"

Kiah's closet explodes across our room like a fashion hurricane. My black dress makes my breath catch— black silk against my skin, falling just above my knees. The girl in the mirror looks very hoe-some. The perfect way to attract the creep who secretly invited me to this party instead of handing it to me like a gentleman. Maybe tonight I might do more than kiss a stranger.

I apply makeup, trading my usual natural palette for something bolder. The smokey eye tutorial takes three tries, but eventually, I create something that makes my eyes look huge and mysterious. My hair goes up in a twisted bun, a few loose curls framing my face like notes escaping from a score.

"Holy shit." Kiah's whistle cuts through my concentration. "You clean up nice, Mozart."

I smooth my hands down the silk, fighting the urge to change back into jeans and hide behind my cello. The dress feels like permission to be a hoe— someone who takes risks, who doesn't plan every moment of her life around practice schedules and grade point averages. I used to be that girl who partied until I realized my future would look a lot like my mother’s if I kept it up.

"I'm not looking for the guy," I say to her as she disappears into the bathroom. Just like in high school, everyone seems obsessed with coupling up, while I'm busy dreaming of concert halls and standing ovations.

"Stop overthinking." Kiah shrugs into her jacket.

I fidget with my purse strap. "I just... these people aren't exactly fucking nice or welcoming. Blackridge has been a bunchof rich snobs. Tonight at the party will be no different." It’s hard to say aloud that I do not fit in.

"Trust me, they're not going to be giving you swirlies in the bathroom." She grabs my shoulders. "Though you might want to watch out for the bedrooms upstairs. I won’t leave your side though until you tell me too."

"The Reapers— what are they exactly?" The name alone sends a chill down my spine.

Kiah stares at me like I've just said I've never heard of Mozart. "Seriously? How do you not know about—" She shakes her head. "Never mind. You'll see soon enough. Let’s go."

The Uber ride feels endless. I watch the campus lights fade behind us, replaced by sprawling estates that make my trailer park childhood seem like a different planet. The house that comes into view is massive, all stone and shadows against the night sky.

"Ready for an unforgettable night?" Kiah squeezes my hand as we step out.

Before I can answer, a figure materializes from the darkness. Tall, dressed in a black robe, holding an actual scythe. The mask turns toward us— a twisted version of the Grim Reaper.

My hand shakes as I hold out the invitation. "She's with me," I say quickly, pulling Kiah closer. "My plus one."

The mask stares back, silent and judging.

A slight nod, and we're inside. More masked figures line the halls like living statues, their presence making the opulent house feel more like a gothic cathedral. Crystal chandeliers catch the light, throwing fractured rainbows across marble floors.

"Drinks?" Kiah is already moving, her eyes tracking a group of guys by the stairs.

Even here, surrounded by wealth that makes my head spin, she's completely herself.

I follow her lead through rooms that look like they belong in a museum, not a college party. Each space we pass through feels both beautiful and dangerous, like a gilded cage with the door left temptingly open.

Maybe that's exactly what it is.

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