In the grand scheme of questionable life choices, attending one of Truman Woods' most infamous parties with the intent of "seducing" Pierre Yamamoto-Key was teetering somewhere between "really bad idea" and "oh dear God, why am I like this?"

But here I was, standing in front of Erin's bedroom mirror, attempting to look like someone who knew what she was doing. Spoiler alert: I didn't. Not even a little.

"I look ridiculous," I muttered, tugging at the hem of my crop top for the third time in five minutes. "Like, is this what people wear to parties, or do I look like I'm trying too hard?"

Erin, ever the realist, glanced up from her phone with a bored expression. "You look fine, Lee. Stop overthinking it. The goal is to be seen, not to win a fashion show."

"Right. Seen," I repeated, staring at my reflection. My jeans were tight but not too tight, and the top was cropped just enough to say "I'm fun" but not "I'm trying to be an Instagram influencer." Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that this whole operation was doomed from the start.

Fabian, sprawled out on Erin's bed like he owned the place, raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. The top's cute and all, but if you really want to make Pierre notice you, you need to go for bold. Something that says, 'Hey, look at me. I'm a force to be reckoned with. Also, I may or may not have magical powers.'"

"Magical powers?" I snorted, glancing at him. "What do you want me to do? Show up in a cape?"

Fabian grinned. "I mean, it would be iconic."

Erin rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. You look fine. You don't need a cape. Or magical powers. Just be yourself."

"Right. Myself," I said, smoothing my hair down and trying to ignore the knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. Being myself was precisely what got me into last year's meltdown fiasco, so maybe being someone else wouldn't be the worst idea.

Fabian propped himself up on his elbow, watching me with a smirk. "Relax, Lee. It's just a party. You flirt, you dance, you maybe get Pierre to kiss you, and boom! Mission accomplished."

"And if Franklin Butt suddenly drops from the sky and ruins everything?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the thought of him.

"Then we'll punt him across the room and go back to dancing," Fabian said cheerfully. "Problem solved."

Erin shot him a look. "That's not a plan."

"It's a solid plan," Fabian argued, waving a hand dismissively. "If Franklin wants to play dirty, we can play dirtier."

I groaned. "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want this night turning into a scene from a bad teen movie."

Fabian hopped off the bed and grabbed his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. "We'll be fine. Besides, I have a good feeling about tonight. You're gonna crush it."

"Yeah," Erin said, her tone more cautious. "Just... remember the goal. You don't have to push things with Pierre too fast. Play it cool."

"Cool." I nodded, feeling anything but cool. "I can do that."

The three of us left Erin's house and made our way to the party. It was being hosted by some senior I vaguely recognized — one of those rich kids with a house big enough to fit half the school in their backyard. As we walked up the driveway, I could already hear the music blaring and see the dim glow of lights from inside. People were milling around on the lawn, red solo cups in hand, laughing and shouting over the music.

This was it. My grand entrance into the world of high school royalty. Or, you know, the awkward stumblings of a girl trying not to trip over her own feet.

We made our way inside, squeezing past groups of people who were either too drunk to notice us or too cool to care. The house was massive — all sleek furniture and chandeliers that looked way too expensive for a bunch of teenagers to be dancing around.

"There's the man of the hour," Fabian whispered, nudging me and nodding toward the far side of the room.

And there he was. Pierre Yamamoto-Key. The star of the swim team, the pinnacle of popularity, and currently standing by the snack table like he'd just walked out of a GQ photoshoot. He had one arm casually draped over a chair and the other holding a beer, talking animatedly to a couple of his swim buddies. His smile was effortless, his hair perfectly tousled in that "I didn't try but somehow look amazing" kind of way.

My heart did a little somersault, which was both annoying and exciting.

"Okay," Erin said, grabbing my arm before I could chicken out. "This is your moment. You've got this."

"I don't got this," I whispered back, suddenly feeling like my legs were made of jelly. "I'm gonna trip, or spill something on him, or—"

"Or you're gonna walk over there, flash that charming smile, and make him fall head over heels for you," Fabian interrupted, giving me a gentle shove. "Go get him, tiger."

I took a deep breath, trying to muster every ounce of confidence I had left, and made my way toward Pierre. As I got closer, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. This was it. This was my chance to make an impression.

He spotted me just as I reached the table, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a casual curiosity.

"Hey," I said, hoping I didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

Pierre smiled, a slow, easy grin that made my stomach flip. "Hey. Lee, right?"

He knows my name. He knows my name!

I nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah. I'm in your bio class. We've, uh, never really talked before."

Smooth. Real smooth.

"Right, bio." He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "I think I've seen you around."

I smiled, feeling a little more confident. "Yeah, I've seen you around too. You know, with the swim team and everything."

"Swim team," he echoed, chuckling softly. "Yeah, that's me."

Okay, this wasn't going too badly. He wasn't walking away. That was a win.

"So, uh, are you enjoying the party?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

Pierre shrugged, looking around the room. "It's alright. These things are always kind of the same, you know? Loud music, too many people, not enough space to breathe."

I laughed, relaxing a little. "Tell me about it. I almost got trampled by a group of seniors on my way in."

He chuckled again, and I felt a small surge of victory. I was making him laugh. This was going well.

"So, what about you?" he asked, leaning against the table. "You're not usually at these kinds of parties, are you?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, no. Not really."

He raised an eyebrow. "So, what brought you here tonight?"

I opened my mouth, ready to come up with some witty response, when the universe decided to throw me a curveball.

"Lee! There you are!" A voice boomed from behind me, sending a chill down my spine.

I turned to see Franklin Butt, strutting toward me like he owned the place. He had that same smirk on his face, the one that made me want to punch him every time I saw it.

Pierre glanced between the two of us, clearly confused. "You know Franklin?"

Before I could answer, Franklin draped an arm around my shoulders like we were old buddies. "Oh, we go way back, don't we, Lee? In fact, we were just talking about you earlier, Pierre."

Pierre's eyebrows shot up. "You were?"

I shot Franklin a murderous look. "Franklin, what are you—"

"Lee was just telling me how much she admires you," Franklin interrupted, his grin widening. "Isn't that right, Lee?"

I wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Or at least throw Franklin into the punch bowl.

Pierre looked at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, really?"

I stammered, trying to salvage the situation. "I, uh... well, I mean, you're, you know, really good at swimming, and—"

Franklin gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze, cutting me off again. "What Lee means to say is that she's been dying to talk to you. Isn't that right?"

If looks could kill, Franklin would have been six feet under. But before I could launch into a tirade, Franklin's phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

"Oops, gotta go," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Duty calls. But don't worry, Lee. I'll be sure to check back in on your progress with Pierre later."

And with that, he sauntered off, leaving me standing there, fuming.

I turned back to Pierre, who was watching me with an amused expression. "So... you admire me?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Not like that. Franklin's just... ugh, I don't even know."

Pierre chuckled, setting his drink down on the table. "It's cool. Franklin likes to mess with people. I wouldn't take it personally."

"Well, I do," I muttered, crossing my arms.

He grinned, that same easy, charming grin that made me forget why I was mad in the first place. "You don't need to worry about Franklin. I'd rather hear more about you."

Wait, what?

"Me?" I asked, my brain momentarily short-circuiting. "What about me?"

He shrugged, leaning in a little closer. "I don't know. You seem interesting. Different."

My heart did that annoying fluttery thing again, and I had to remind myself to breathe. This was it. My moment. Pierre was actually interested. I just had to play it cool, keep the conversation going, and—

"Hey, Lee." A low, familiar voice cut through the noise of the party.

I froze, recognizing the voice instantly. I turned around slowly, and there he was. Ethyn Moralez. Standing right behind me, arms crossed, dark eyes locked on mine.

And suddenly, the room felt about ten degrees hotter.

Pierre straightened up, glancing between me and Ethyn with a raised eyebrow. "You know this guy?"

Ethyn smirked, his gaze never leaving mine. "We've met."

Oh, God. This night was about to get a lot more complicated.