Night out
VIOLET
“You sure you aren’t coming?” Mom asked for what felt like the hundredth time, her head popping through my door, interrupting the movie I was halfway through.
“Yes, Mom,” I replied, my gaze darting back to the TV. “I still don’t feel great.”
Lying had never been my strong suit. When I was younger, Mom could see right through me with just a glance. I prayed that wasn’t still the case.
“Make sure you take your medicine,” she said, her tone laced with concern.
“Got it,” I mumbled, and with that, she disappeared from the doorway.
I exhaled in relief, sinking deeper into my bed. Skipping a family night out wasn’t exactly the best move, but the idea of spending the evening with my "blended family" made my stomach twist in knots. The thought of enduring awkward conversations and forced laughter was too much for me tonight.
As the movie credits began to roll, I decided to head downstairs. Maybe I’d grab a snack and retreat back into my room for the rest of the night. I had barely reached the top of the stairs when Ryan stepped out of his room.
He noticed me immediately. His eyes narrowed, and for a long moment, he just glared at me—me and my oversized sweatpants.
“You didn’t go?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“Why didn’t you?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. He was dressed in a black hoodie, the hood pulled low over his face, and one earbud dangled from his ear.
“Got a basketball game,” he said, snorting dismissively. “What’s your excuse?”
“Sick,” I replied, trying to sound convincing.
“Oh, right,” he muttered, not even pretending to believe me. His eyes lingered on me a second longer before he turned toward the stairs. “I’m gonna grab a shower,” he said, brushing past me with a bump of his shoulder. “That is, if you’d get out of my way.”
I stepped to the side of the staircase, and he barged past me
It had only been two days since "Operation Jealousy" backfired spectacularly, but his parting words—"Stop acting like a whore"—still echoed in my mind, making my stomach churn. I cringed at the memory, hating how much it had gotten under my skin.
I headed downstairs and plopped onto the couch. The truth is when you’re a nerd with just two friends,you end up spending your Saturday night alone in your stepfather's living room watching the reruns of Friends because, well, the only thing better than dealing with your own drama was laughing at someone else’s.
Just as Chandler delivered another sarcastic quip, I heard a familiar voice from outside the door. "Hello? Violet?"
I paused the show, my heart racing at the unexpected sound of my name. It couldn’t be my mom; they’d only left half an hour ago, and I doubted they’d even made it through the appetizers yet.
“Vi! You home?” The voice called again, more insistent this time. It sounded familiar. Ashley?
Curious, I got up and opened the door to find her standing there, looking absolutely stunning. She wore a shimmering black party dress that clung to her curves. Her hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders, and her makeup was flawless, highlighting her bright eyes and full lips. For a brief moment, I wondered if she had gotten lost on her way to a club.
Ashley’s eyes widened as she took in my appearance—sweats, a messy bun, the whole lazy ensemble. “No, just kill me now, Vi. Seriously? You’re still dressed like that?”
I blinked at her, trying to comprehend the urgency in her tone. “What are you talking about? What’s the occasion?”
She groaned, pulling me off the door and into the house. “It’s the Midnight Mixer tonight! You promised you’d come!”
And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The Midnight Mixer. The biggest party of the year, filled with students from all grades. Luke and Ashley had been adamant that I needed to attend, and at the time, I didn’t see a reason to say no.
“I had totally forgotten,” I admitted, biting my lip as a wave of guilt washed over me. Ashley let out an exasperated eye roll.
“Come on! You need to get dressed—now,” she insisted, dragging me toward my room.
“Hey, chill! You might hurt me,” I laughed, trying to keep up with her frantic pace.
Ashley shot me an incredulous look, waving her hand up and down my body. “Go get dressed because you sure as hell are not showing up looking like you’re about to binge Netflix for the next twelve hours!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll change!” I said.
“Or no,” she added. “I'll just find you an outfit.”
Before I could protest, Ashley started rummaging through my closet, pulling out a few options and tossing them onto my bed. “Too casual,” she muttered as she tossed aside a pair of jeans. “Too fucking casual,” she dismissed a simple blouse. “Bitch, you don’t have any other clothes than baggy stuff or just too formal,” she said, throwing another dress onto the pile with a huff.
After a while, she pulled out a shimmering blue dress that sparkled even in the low light of my room. “This one! Try it on!” she declared, holding it up with a triumphant smile.
I hesitated for a moment, eyeing the dress. It was beautiful—a fitted bodice that flared out slightly at the waist, with a low back that added just the right amount of allure. “I don’t know, Ash…”
“Just put it on! You’ll look amazing, I promise,” she urged.
With a resigned sigh, I slipped into the dress.The dress clung to my frame in all the right places, and though I wasn’t one for dressing up, I had to admit I looked... decent.
“Wow! You look incredible!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels. “Now let’s do something with your hair and makeup.”
“Are we really doing this?” I asked, reeling from how quickly the night had turned around.
“Absolutely! Just sit still; I have a plan.”
I settled into a chair as Ashley worked her magic, curling my hair and applying just the right amount of makeup to accentuate my features.
“You’re turning heads tonight. I can feel it!” she said, her enthusiasm contagious.
Once she was satisfied with my transformation, she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. “Okay, now you look like you’re ready for the Midnight Mixer! Let’s go.”
I sighed as I grabbed a light jacket, not wanting to deal with the chill in the evening air. Running a hand through my hair,we left the room
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