the party

Chapter Two: The Party

The night pulsed with music. Bass throbbed through the earth like a second heartbeat, rattling the glasses stacked at the bar and echoing in Kayla’s ribs. Colored lights spilled across the pool in shimmering blues and golds, catching the ripples of water where some boy had just gotten out of hand, sending shrieks of laughter through the crowd.

Kayla clutched her small bag tightly against her side, her fingers pressed so hard into the leather strap that they hurt. The smell of alcohol and barbecue smoke curled in the air, mixing with too many perfumes. Her head felt light already, though she hadn’t had a sip of anything.

“This isn’t me,” she whispered, almost drowned out by the beat.

But she was here. For Jason.

She wove her way between clusters of students girls in glittering tops and sequined skirts, boys with their shirts half-unbuttoned, their laughter loud and careless. Kayla glanced down at her own dress: plain navy, modest, nothing like theirs. Her skin prickled with awareness, as though every eye in the place might turn and notice how she didn’t belong.

I shouldn’t have come.

“Drink?”

The bartender leaned over the counter, his shirt gaping open at the chest. His grin was too wide, his eyes sliding over her before landing lazily back on her face.

Kayla shook her head quickly. “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” His voice dropped, conspiratorial. “Jason’s upstairs. Wants to see you.”

Her heart jolted. “What?”

“Top of the stairs, first room on the right,” he said with a wink, as if they shared some secret.

Kayla forced a smile, mumbled a thanks, and slipped away before he could say more.

But as soon as she reached the bottom of the staircase, doubt struck. Wants to see you? Why hadn’t Jason come himself? Why send someone else?

The noise of the party dimmed as she climbed, each step heavier than the last. The corridor upstairs was dim, hushed. The beat of the bass became a faint pulse through the floor, like a distant drum. Her own footsteps sounded too loud against the carpeted stairs.

And then voices.

“…the nerd finally getting her turn.”

Laughter. Sharp, cutting.

Kayla froze. Heat surged to her cheeks.

“…can’t believe she actually showed up. Bet he won’t even”

Another burst of cruel giggles, fading into the distance.

Kayla pressed her back against the wall, her breath shallow, trembling. Jose’s warning rang in her head, steady and certain: If you go, Kay, you might not come back the same.

She should turn back. She should run.

But her hand lifted instead, trembling, and knocked.

A pause. Then the door opened.

Jason Lawson stood there. Shirt sleeves rolled up, hair curling just past his shoulders. His blue eyes widened.

“Kayla?” His voice was softer than she’d imagined. “What are you doing here?”

Her throat went dry. “I… I just wanted to come. It’s your night.”

He leaned against the door-frame, arms folded, eyes flicking over her with something like curiosity. “Didn’t think you were the party type.”

“I’m not,” she admitted, forcing a small smile. “But I didn’t want to miss this.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, unreadable. Then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

He stepped aside, gesturing her in.

The room smelled faintly of cedar-wood and cologne. A guitar leaned against the wall, papers scattered across a desk. The window was cracked open, letting in a whisper of cool night air that barely masked the muffled chaos below. Jason dropped onto the edge of his bed, leaning back on his hands, gaze fixed on her.

“So,” he said, smirking, “you braved the circus downstairs just for me?”

Kayla’s fingers twisted in the strap of her bag. “I guess you could say that.”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and lazy. “Guess I should feel honored.” He tilted his head. “You nervous?”

Her eyes widened. “What? No!” Then, quieter, “Maybe a little.”

“Relax,” he said easily. “You don’t have to impress me.”

The words made her cheeks warm. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“Good.” He leaned forward slightly. “Because I hate fake people. And you… you’re real.”

Kayla blinked. “Real?”

“Yeah.” His gaze softened. “You’re not like the others.”

Her lips parted, her voice barely audible. “Neither are you.”

Jason’s smile deepened, but it wasn’t mocking. It was slower, warmer, like he was letting her in on something no one else got to see. For a flicker of a moment, the arrogance she had always associated with him melted away, revealing someone more human.

He asked about her classes, about the books she always carried. She told him about her favorite novel, half-expecting him to laugh but instead, he listened. Actually listened. His phone stayed on the desk, his eyes steady on hers.

“So you like stories where the girl’s underestimated,” Jason said thoughtfully.

Kayla nodded. “Because she proves them wrong in the end.”

Jason leaned back, studying her. “Maybe you’ll do the same.”

The words sent a flutter through her chest, an ache of possibility.

Minutes passed, or maybe longer time felt slippery. Their shoulders brushed, then their arms. The space between them shrank until she could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint spice of his cologne.

Kayla’s breath caught. This was happening.

Jason’s gaze lingered on her lips before flicking back to her eyes. “You’re braver than people think, aren’t you?”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t feel brave.”

“You came here alone,” he murmured. “That’s something.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe you should.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because if you stay…” His breath brushed her cheek. “…you’ll never forget tonight.”

Kayla’s heart stuttered. The promise or was it a warning? hung in the charged silence.

For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them: the dim room, the muffled thrum of music below, the dizzying closeness of Jason Lawson.

And Kayla stood on the edge of something she couldn’t yet name caught between fear and the wild, fragile hope that maybe, finally, she was being seen.