19

Y/N stepped out of her room like she owned the night.

Low-rise mini skirt. Fitted crop top that barely passed the decency test. Soft waves in her hair. Lip gloss. Confidence dialed up to max.

Rodrick would implode.

But first... the brothers.

Chris did a full-on spit take when he saw her. "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

Felix stood like he was witnessing a crime scene. "You're not leaving the house in that."

Peter, lounging on the couch with a soda, raised an eyebrow. "She looks great."

Chris whirled on him. "She looks illegal."

Felix pointed. "Put on something else. Or you're not going."

Y/N crossed her arms. "I'm not twelve, Felix."

"You're dressing like Heather Hills on a rampage!" Chris barked.

Peter stood, stretching lazily. "Okay, okay, chill, dads. I'll go with her. Make sure no one tries anything."

That stopped them cold.

"You'd really do that?" Felix asked suspiciously.

Peter smirked. "I'll be her bodyguard. Keep the wolves away."

Chris groaned. "Fine. But the second something sketchy happens-"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I'll call the Simp Patrol."

Peter just gave her a wink. "Let's roll."

They walked a few blocks in the night air. Her heels clicked against the pavement, heart racing with the excitement of finally getting out after weeks of being stuck at home post-broken-arm.

Then Peter suddenly stopped.

"Soooo... I'm not actually going to your party."

She blinked. "Wait, what?"

He grinned. "I've got my own to hit. I just told them I'd watch you so they'd stop yelling."

"Peter!"

"Relax," he laughed. "You're not twelve either, remember? I trust you. You're a badass."

She hugged him tightly. "You're my favorite brother."

Peter grinned into her hair. "Damn right I am. Now go cause chaos, I raised you well."

Bass thumped through the rented house. Lights strobed. The air smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and hormones.

Y/N walked in and jaws dropped.

Girls gave side-eyes.Guys stared way too long.And when Rodrick saw her?He stopped mid-sip of his drink and damn near choked.

"You trying to kill me?" he muttered, pulling her close.

"Not yet," she whispered with a smirk.

They didn't get more than five minutes before someone yelled:

"TRUTH OR DARE! KITCHEN! NOW!"

They joined the circle. Alcohol flowed freely. Dares got...intense.

One girl had to do a lap dance on a guy she hated.A guy had to take his shirt off and let someone write on him with lipstick.Y/N picked dare.

"I dare you to sit on Rodrick's lap until your next turn."

Y/N grinned. "Too easy."

Rodrick? Already smug. Hands already on her waist. Eyes dark.

She sat down and leaned back, intentionally pressing into him. His breath hitched.

"You're evil," he muttered against her neck.

"You love it."

The next dare hit harder.

"Rodrick. Body shot. Y/N."

The room lost its mind.

Someone handed him salt, a lime wedge, and a shot.Y/N laid back on the kitchen counter, breath hitching as Rodrick leaned down.

Salted her collarbone.Took the shot.Ran the lime slowly across her lips and bit it.

He. Did. Not. Break. Eye contact.

The room howled.

Y/N's pulse was everywhere.

He leaned down, whispering just loud enough for her to hear:

"Next time, we're doing that somewhere a lot more private."