(RORY’S POV)The night air was cool and soft, a gentle contrast to the humid warmth of the house, now filled with the low hum of conversations winding down. The last of the guests were saying their goodbyes, their voices a symphony of well-wishes and happy memories. My family, now a small, exhausted but content group, were gathered in the living room, the space that had been a battlefield just hours before. The once-pristine decorations were now a little askew, a testament to the joyous chaos of the party. A few stray balloons had made their way to the ceiling, their silver and pink surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the lamps. The scent of cinnamon, sugar, and aged paper still lingered, a comforting, familiar aroma.I sat on the couch, nestled between my dad and my sister, Rosalie. My hand, tucked into Todd’s, felt warm and safe. He was talking to my Aunt Ryan, his voice a low, happy rumble as he recounted a story about my cousin’s impressive dance moves. He had been a natural all
(AMANDA’S POV)The music was a warm, vibrant blanket, a cheerful hum that settled over the party and seeped into every corner of the house. Laughter was a constant, joyous sound, and the air was thick with the scent of good food and celebration. This was Rory’s world, a beautiful, chaotic, and loving place. And in that moment, standing in the middle of her living room, I felt like a ghost.My performance for Nana had been a triumph. The applause, the tears in Nana’s eyes, the way Rory looked at me with such immense pride—it had all been a temporary, beautiful high. It was a glimpse into a life I desperately wanted to be a part of. For a few glorious minutes, I was Amanda, the girl with a beautiful voice, the friend. But now, with the song over and the spotlight off, the reality of my situation settled over me like a cold shroud.Leslie’s words, a low, dangerous growl, echoed in my ears with every beat of the music. "You have until the end of the weekend… If you don't have something on
(RORY’S POV)The scent of cinnamon and sugar that had filled the house all morning had given way to the soft, sweet fragrance of the flowers Todd had brought, mingling with the subtle, clean scent of the just-cleaned living room. The chaos had been scrubbed away, replaced by an air of hushed anticipation. The house, which had been a war zone just an hour ago, was now a wonderland of pink, blue, and silver. Streamers hung in perfect, cascading arcs from the ceiling, and balloons floated in clusters in every corner of the room. A massive cake, a masterpiece of my sister’s, stood on the kitchen counter, its three tiers waiting to be admired.My own transformation was complete. The worn sweats and t-shirt were gone, replaced by a simple but elegant navy-blue dress that my sister had insisted I wear. My hair, which had been a mess of loose strands all morning, was now pulled back in a neat, polished ponytail. I felt like a different person, a more put-together, more confident version of my
RORY’S POV) The sun was barely a rumor on the horizon, a soft, blushing glow seeping through the edges of my bedroom curtains, but the house was already alive with a particular, high-octane energy I knew well. It was Surprise Party Day. I jolted awake not to an alarm, but to the unmistakable clatter of pans in the kitchen, followed by the low murmur of my dad’s voice and the occasional burst of my Aunt Ryan’s booming laughter. A symphony of chaos was already in full swing. My sister, Rosalie, was undoubtedly in the thick of it, a whirlwind of organized fury. I pulled on my softest sweats and a worn T-shirt, and padded down the stairs, following the scent of coffee and something sweet. The living room, usually a haven of quiet comfort, was a war zone. Streamers in various shades of pastel were strewn across the floor like colorful, fallen ribbons. Balloons, some sadly deflated, were everywhere. My sister, Rosalie, was wielding a glue gun with the intense concentration of a surgeon, h
(RORY’S POV)The world outside the car window was a watercolor of deepening twilight, a smear of charcoal-grey clouds and the hazy orange glow of streetlights. But inside the car, everything was rendered in impossible, crystalline detail. The soft purr of the engine was a tangible vibration through the leather seat. The scent of him—clean cotton, faint sweat, and the unique, warm spice that was just Todd—clung to the air, a perfume more intoxicating than any other. It was on my clothes, in my hair, a permanent brand on my senses.My skin hummed with the memory of his touch. The rough pads of his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the solid warmth of his palms spanning my back, the gentle, almost reverent way he had learned the geography of me. My lips felt swollen, sensitive, and a faint, delicious ache lingered in muscles I hadn’t known I possessed. I was a map he had memorized, a book he had read cover to cover, and I had never felt more known, or more truly myself.He pulled up to
(TODD’S POV)The world had narrowed to the space of my living room, to the feel of Rory’s lips on mine and the soft, trusting weight of her in my arms. The movie’s credits were a silent, scrolling tapestry of light and shadow on the screen, forgotten. The only sound was our breathing, ragged and syncopated, a new and intimate language we were learning together.I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted and swollen from our kisses. A faint, rosy blush colored her cheeks, and a single tear track glistened in the dim light. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.“Rory,” I whispered, my voice rough with an emotion so vast I had no name for it.Her eyes fluttered open. They were dark pools, deep and unguarded, reflecting the same awe and terror and desperate want that was currently setting my blood on fire. There was no fear there, only a question, and a trust that humbled me.“Is this okay?” I asked, my thumb stroking her che