5. No Party For Me
947 Words
ELLIE
So there I was, standing at the door and trying not to make eye contact with the hottest boy I'd ever seen in my entire life. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do, knowing how insanely hot Beck was up close. And now he was here, and I could hardly breathe.
I had no idea what to say. Literally zero. My entire brain had been replaced with a slideshow of inappropriate thoughts and emergency evacuation alarms. My heart thudded so loudly in my chest that I was certain he could hear it, just standing there all perfect and smug with his stupid crooked smile, like this was some cheesy rom-com moment and he was the hot neighbor with a secret past.
The bastard was probably enjoying himself.
"Hey," I said, but it came out like a squeak, so I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hi."
Smooth, Ellie. Real smooth.
His eyes twinkled with amusement before he said, "You always look this freaked out when someone rings the doorbell?"
"I wasn't expecting...company," I said awkwardly, still avoiding his gaze.
"Right," he nodded slowly, glancing past me into the house like he was checking for witnesses. "So... are you such a Debbie downer that you live on your own?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.
He blinked, caught off guard as he said, "Uh... it was a joke?"
"Well, I'm not laughing."
"Relax, Buzzkill," he said with a half-laugh, leaning against the doorframe like he owned it. "You don't have to bite my head off. I'm just trying to make conversation."
I crossed my arms, heat flaring up my neck as I said, "If that's your idea of conversation, then maybe stick to waving. You were better at that."
Beck raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself as he said, "Are you always this feisty in the morning?"
"Do you always flirt like an arrogant jackass?"
"I wasn't flirting," he smirked.
"Right," I said. "And I wasn't about to slam the door in your face right now for being a dick."
He didn't answer right away. His expression shifted slightly, like maybe he hadn't expected this much pushback. Then he scratched the back of his head and shrugged.
"Actually, I was just gonna ask if your mom was home."
The air went still.
I looked down at my socks, then up at him again, and I hated the way his smug expression crumbled in real time.
"My mom's dead," I said quietly. "I live with my aunt."
"Oh." His face froze. "f**k. Sorry. I didn't..."
He laughed awkwardly, like that would somehow fix it before he said, "Wow. Great start, Beck. Now you're officially the neighborhood douchebag."
I let the silence stew for a little longer. He shuffled a little, then shoved his hands into his pockets like maybe if he kept them there, he wouldn't make the situation worse.
"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry," he said. "I'm not trying to be a dick."
"Too late," I replied.
He gave me a guilty wince, then he said, "Yeah, well, I'll earn it back. I swear I'm not always this bad at talking to girls. It's just... you're kind of intense."
I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. Probably both.
"Anyway," he continued, "I just wanted to let you know we're having a small housewarming thing tonight. It might get kinda loud."
I held my breath as I imagined what was going to happen next. He'd probably flash that stupid smile again, toss in a you should come by, and I'd pretend to hesitate like I wasn't already planning my outfit in my head.
But instead, he said nothing. He just looked at me and waited for a reaction. Then he nodded like that was the end of it.
"Oh," I finally managed to say. "That's... fine. I hope it's fun."
"Cool," he said, already backing away. "Catch you around, Buzzkill."
And just like that, he walked off the porch and disappeared across the lawn, leaving me standing there with my hands clenched into fists and a red-hot ball of shame growing in my chest. I shut the door eventually, then walked upstairs like a zombie and collapsed onto my bed.
And then I screamed into my pillow.
I screamed like a feral animal, because what the hell just happened? Why did my body betray me like that? Why was he suddenly next door and shirtless-adjacent and waving at me and then not even bothering to invite me to his stupid party?
I wasn't even mad at him. I was mad at myself for getting all weird and sweaty and defensive, and for letting him see me so flustered. I was mad at myself for hoping just a little bit that maybe the universe was giving me an opening.
Clearly it wasn't.
If I wanted this, if I actually wanted Beck Ryder to take my virginity before the cancer took everything else, I couldn't just sit around hoping for invitations that were never coming. He clearly didn't see me like that. Not yet, at least. To him, I was just the weird, overreactive girl next door with attitude problems and a tragic backstory. I was clearly not girlfriend material, and definitely not hookup material.
So if I wanted in, I needed to play it smarter. I needed to infiltrate his world and get close without making it obvious. I had to become one of the boys, and someone he could actually let his guard down around. Only then would I even have a shot.
And if I was going to do it, then it had to start tonight.
- Writer
