The party was in full swing.
The rhythmic sounds of the music shook the walls of our usually quiet suburban home, and the air buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the occasional clink of cups.
People swarmed every corner—lounging on the couches, dancing in the living room, and spilling out onto the patio.
I couldn’t believe how many people from school had shown up. It was surreal.
“Elvis,” I said, nudging him as we stood by the kitchen island, surveying everyone, “you didn’t tell me this was going to be the event of the year.”
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself.
“Kristen, my dear, when I plan something, I don’t half-ass it. This is just the beginning.”
Despite his confidence, I was on edge. I adjusted the hem of my form-fitting black dress, which I had agonized over pi
