By the next day, Mia thought things had finally started to calm down. The whispers in the hallway had dwindled to an occasional glance, and Dylan Westwood hadn't so much as looked her way during their shared classes. Maybe, just maybe, she could go back to being her invisible, soda-spilling self.
But, of course, fate had other plans.
It started during lunch when Lila slammed her tray down on the table with an excited grin.
"You're not going to believe this," she said, practically vibrating with energy.
"Please tell me it doesn't involve Dylan Westwood," Mia groaned, taking a bite of her sandwich.
"Oh, it definitely involves Dylan Westwood," Lila said, her eyes sparkling. "He's throwing a party this Friday. A huge party. And guess who's invited?"
"Literally everyone?" Mia guessed.
"Well, yeah," Lila admitted. "But that's not the point. The point is, you have to go."
"Why would I do that?" Mia asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because it's the perfect opportunity for you to, I don't know, actually talk to him?"
"I already talked to him," Mia said. "He told me we're cool. End of story."
Lila groaned dramatically. "Mia, you're killing me. Do you not realize the potential here? You're like, the only girl in school who's had an actual moment with Dylan Westwood. And now you're just... ignoring it?"
"It wasn't a moment, Lila. It was an apology for ruining his hoodie," Mia said.
"Whatever you want to call it," Lila said, waving her hand dismissively. "The point is, you need to go to that party. Who knows? Maybe he'll notice you again."
"Or maybe I'll just embarrass myself in front of the entire school again," Mia muttered.
Lila sighed, leaning across the table. "Look, I know you're scared. But this is high school, Mia. If you don't take risks now, when will you?"
Mia hesitated, her sandwich halfway to her mouth. She hated when Lila made a good point.
By the time Friday rolled around, Mia was a bundle of nerves. She'd spent the entire day debating whether or not to go to the party, only for Lila to show up at her house that evening with a bag full of clothes and a determined look.
"You're not backing out," Lila said, barging into Mia's room.
"I wasn't backing out," Mia lied.
"Good. Because I brought options." Lila dumped the bag onto Mia's bed and started pulling out clothes.
Mia groaned. "Do I really have to dress up for this?"
"Uh, yeah," Lila said, holding up a sparkly top. "You can't just show up in your usual jeans and hoodie."
"What's wrong with jeans and a hoodie?"
"Everything," Lila said. "Now, try this on."
An hour later, Mia stood in front of her mirror, feeling like an entirely different person. The sparkly top Lila had picked out actually fit her pretty well, and the ripped jeans gave her just the right amount of edge.
"You look amazing," Lila said, grinning at her.
Mia frowned at her reflection. "I look... like I'm trying too hard."
"No, you look like someone who's about to have the best night of her life," Lila said, dragging her toward the door.
The party was exactly what Mia had expected: loud music, red Solo cups, and way too many people crammed into Dylan Westwood's massive house.
"This is insane," Mia said as they walked inside.
"In the best way," Lila said, grabbing her arm. "Come on, let's find something to drink."
Mia followed Lila through the crowd, feeling more out of place with every step. This wasn't her scene, and she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was watching her, even though she knew that wasn't true.
They ended up in the kitchen, where a group of girls were gathered around the counter, laughing and chatting. Mia recognized most of them from school, but she didn't know any of them well enough to strike up a conversation.
"Here," Lila said, handing her a cup of what looked like soda.
Mia sniffed it suspiciously. "What is this?"
"Just Coke," Lila said. "Relax, Mia. Not everything is spiked."
Mia took a sip, feeling slightly better. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
And then she heard his voice.
"Hey, Anderson."
Mia froze. She turned around slowly, and there he was: Dylan Westwood, standing just a few feet away, looking effortlessly cool in a black T-shirt and jeans.
"Oh. Hi," she said, her voice coming out way higher than she'd intended.
Dylan smiled, leaning against the counter. "Didn't think I'd see you here."
"Yeah, well, my friend kind of dragged me along," Mia said, glancing at Lila, who was conveniently pretending not to listen.
"Well, I'm glad you came," Dylan said, and for a moment, Mia thought she must have misheard him.
"Really?" she asked, immediately regretting how surprised she sounded.
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "You're... different."
"Different how?" Mia asked, narrowing her eyes.
Dylan chuckled. "In a good way. You're not like everyone else here."
Mia wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was that supposed to be a compliment?
Before she could overthink it, Dylan nodded toward the living room. "Wanna get out of here? It's kind of loud."
Mia blinked. "Uh, sure."
Lila gave her a thumbs-up as Dylan led her out of the kitchen and into a quieter corner of the house.
They ended up sitting on the back porch, where the noise of the party was replaced by the sound of crickets and the distant hum of cars.
"So," Dylan said, leaning back against the railing, "what do you really think about all this?"
"All what?" Mia asked.
"The party. The people. High school."
Mia hesitated. "Honestly? It's kind of overrated."
Dylan laughed, and for the first time, Mia realized how nice his laugh was.
"Yeah, I get that," he said. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just... playing a role, you know? Like everyone expects me to be this perfect guy, but half the time, I don't even know who I am."
Mia stared at him, surprised by how genuine he sounded. "That's... kind of deep."
Dylan shrugged. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
They sat in silence for a moment, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by something... different.
"Thanks for coming," Dylan said finally, looking at her.
"Thanks for inviting me," Mia said, and for the first time that night, she actually meant it.
As they headed back inside, Mia couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Dylan Westwood wasn't just the school's golden boy anymore. He was... something else. Something more.
And for better or worse, Mia was starting to see him in a whole new light.