Chapter 39 Kristen
It was the day of the party and I felt my guts scatter all over the place.
Nerves.
God they're infuriating.
I had paced the living room four full laps before I heard the knock.
It was early. Barely 6:00. I smoothed my top, exhaled once, and opened the door.
Anna stood on the porch, holding two grocery bags and grinning like she already owned the night. She wore ripped jeans and a fitted black tee, her hair twisted up into a messy ponytail that somehow still looked perfect. Casual, effortless, confident.
“Am I the first?” she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer.
“Technically,” I said, closing the door behind her.
“Well, I brought the holy trinity: chips, sugar, and alcohol masquerading as punch.” She held up the bags. “Your aunt gonna judge me?”
“Probably,” I said. “But she’ll be subtle about it.”
“Perfect. I love subtle judgment.”
Anna walked straight into the kitchen like she lived there. She started unloading bags onto the counter—bowls, cups, sodas, a suspiciously unlabeled bottle, and two pre-mixed jugs of something neon pink.
That was when Patricia appeared from the hallway, sipping a soda, her gaze already sharp.
“Well,” she said, eyeing Anna. “You’re early.”
“You’re Patricia,” Anna replied without missing a beat.
Patricia tilted her head. “And you are?”
“Anna. Kristen’s roommate. I bring alcohol and wit.”
Patricia blinked once, then cracked a smile. “Wit, huh?”
“I ration it,” Anna said. “But I brought enough for the both of us.”
I watched them volley back and forth with the kind of fast, dry energy that could easily turn hostile with the wrong tone. But instead, Patricia handed Anna a glass and gestured at the counter.
“Pour me one, then. Let’s see if your taste is better than your jokes.”
I shook my head, amused.
Anna leaned toward me and whispered, “Your aunt’s a menace. I like her.”
“I heard that,” Patricia said, without turning around.
I smiled. For the first time all day, I felt a tiny piece of the tension fall away.
As we set up the drinks and snacks, Anna took charge like she’d done this a hundred times. She adjusted the bowls, rearranged the cups by color, then stared thoughtfully at the punch bowls.
“You really gonna serve this lukewarm?”
“I was planning to add ice.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ice is for amateurs.”
She lifted a finger and tapped the rim of the closest bowl. Frost spilled out in a perfect wave, glazing the punch into a slushy swirl of pink and white.
I smirked. “Show-off.”
Anna grinned and winked. “You know me.”
She turned and pointed at the keg stand we’d shoved into the corner. With a flick of her wrist, frost bloomed across the metal, elegant and shimmering like blown glass.
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “That your power?”
“Temperature control,” Anna said. “Technically water-based. But freezing’s more fun at parties.”
Guests started trickling in not long after. First a few from class, then people from training sessions, then a few faces I didn’t recognize but welcomed anyway. The music went up, the lights dimmed, the drinks started flowing.
People smiled. Laughed. Told me the place looked amazing. That the snacks were great. That the energy was good.
I played hostess. Directed them toward drinks, answered the door three more times, and tried to float between rooms without spiraling.
For a little while, it worked.
It almost felt normal.
Then the temperature shifted.
Clarissa.
She didn’t knock. She didn’t have to.
The door opened on its own, and she walked in like a crowned queen arriving fashionably late to a court she already owned. Her gown shimmered blood red, slit high, shoulders bare, her hair pinned into a coiled crown of perfect golden curls. Her entourage flanked her—two girls with ice-blonde hair and matching fitted dresses.
Her eyes scanned the room. Cold. Calculating.
“Hmm,” she said aloud. “Decent.”
The music stuttered. Conversations quieted.
Clarissa raised one hand and waved it once, delicate as a pianist.
A wave of distortion passed through the house.
The floor beneath our feet shifted, gleaming to glass. The ceiling vaulted upward, disappearing into crystalline arches. Chandelier light bloomed from the walls, and music began playing from nowhere—soft, orchestral, elegant.
The room had transformed into a ballroom.
I stood frozen, my cup forgotten in my hand.
Clarissa smiled, pleased with herself, and turned away without a glance.
“She loves the entrance,” Anna muttered beside me, appearing with a fresh drink.
“Is this real?”
“Nope,” she said, sipping. “Still your house. Still your walls. But everyone under the illusion sees whatever she wants them to see. It’s like a glamour, just… classier. That's her power. She can bend reality."
“Why?”
“She likes the aesthetic,” Anna said. “Also, the attention.”
I looked around. The party had gone silent, stunned by the transformation. Now people were laughing again, posing for selfies under fake chandeliers, complimenting the “view.”
“I’m gonna go check on the girl with the lavender hair and the confidence of a god,” Anna said, nodding toward the other room. “You good?”
I smiled weakly. “It’s my party.”
“Hell yeah it is,” she said, disappearing into the crowd.
I stayed rooted for a moment. Watching people flit across the mirrored floor. Laugh. Drink. Pose.
But my eyes were scanning for something else.
Someone else.
Where was Caleb?
I hadn’t seen him all night. Not once.
Then—hands at my waist.
I gasped.
A breath touched the back of my neck.
“Boo.”
I turned fast.
It was him.
Caleb grinned, his hands still lightly resting on my hips. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run here. His shirt clung to his chest like it had been painted on, and his smile was that same impossible mix of innocent and smug.
“I was starting to get worried,” I said.
He leaned closer, speaking low, so only I could hear.
“Miss this?” he asked. “Not a chance.”
His palm pressed a little firmer into my hip, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
I couldn’t look directly at him for more than a few seconds. My body was too aware of itself. Every inch of me felt lit from inside, skin hot beneath his touch.
He leaned in again.
“Remember that surprise I promised?”
I nodded.
He smiled, slower this time.
“I’m ready to show you.”
My heart jumped.
“Where can we be alone?”
He didn’t rush the words. They unfurled like silk.
I hesitated.
His face was so close I could see the stubble along his jaw, the glint of his lip ring, the soft flick of his tongue across his bottom lip as he waited.
A single spark of breath from him landed at my throat and sent a shock through me.
I should’ve said no.
But all I could think about was that video. His body. His smirk. The way his hand had slid into those briefs and the heat it had summoned into my stomach in seconds.
I swallowed hard.
Clarissa was across the room, laughing with her circle, basking in her spotlight, her back turned to everything that wasn’t hers.
She didn’t know.
And maybe I didn’t care.
Maybe I was drunk. Or reckless. Or both.
Maybe I just wanted this too badly to keep pretending I didn’t.
I looked up at Caleb.
“I know just the place.”