Daniel

As I watch Isabella walk away from my party, I can’t help feeling like a loser for not being brave—or bold—enough to ask her to stay until the end.

“I say good riddance.” Lucy snorts, clinging to me like a possessive girlfriend, even though she isn’t.

“Why?” I turn to face her, annoyed.

She scowls, like she can’t believe I’d even ask. “Because she’s a goody-two-shoes and doesn’t belong here. Did you see the way she kept swooning over you? I was this close to punching her ugly face,” she spits, every word laced with disgust.

“Ugly face?” Hugo scoffs. “Are you actually saying Isabella has an ugly face? Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” He laughs.

Unable to stop myself, I follow suit, laughing right along with him.

“Why are you laughing, Dan? That wasn’t funny,” Lucy pouts.

“Yes, it was,” I retort, still laughing.

“Why did Isabella even come?” Raymond asks, frowning.

“Who cares?” Carol says in disdain. “The good news is she’s gone. Her presence was like a bag of trash stinking up the whole backyard.”

“Why are you being so mean to Isabella, Carol?” I snap, unable to listen to this any longer. “She hasn’t done anything to justify the way you talk about her.” My chest tightens. She doesn’t deserve this, especially when she isn’t here to defend herself.

“Why are you defending that goody-two-shoes, Dan?” Lucy glares, clinging to me even tighter.

“I agree with Dan.” Hugo nods. “From what I’ve seen, you don’t even know Isabella, Carol. There’s no reason to keep talking trash about her.”

“Boys are so dumb,” Carol sneers. “You’re both head over heels for the princess just because she’s beautiful and popular. No wonder you’re best friends.”

“Daniel isn’t head over heels for her,” Lucy hisses, turning to me. “Are you?”

“Can you stop calling Isabella a goody-two-shoes?” I groan, my irritation getting the best of me. “You know what? I’m out of here.” I yank my arm out of Lucy’s grasp and stomp toward the kitchen door, needing space before I lose my temper.

“Where are you going?” Lucy calls after me.

I don’t answer. Instead, I head straight inside my house and lock myself in my bedroom.

My gaze drifts to the bed, where the present Isabella gave me is lying. Without thinking, I run my fingers over the smooth surface of the portable electronic device, staring at it like it might disappear if I look away. Then I pick up the pink envelope. A faint, sweet scent rises as I open it and unfold the white note inside, decorated with delicate designs along the edges. 

I pause, taking in the neat, feminine handwriting—handwriting I’m sure belongs to Isabella.

Daniel,

Thank you so much for inviting me to your birthday party.

I hope you enjoy the laptop and the cupcakes.

Best regards,

Isabella Williams

I read the note at least five times, unable to stop the stupid, goofy smile spreading across my face. Eventually, I fold it carefully and slip it back into the envelope, hiding it under my pillow—just in time to hear a knock on the door.

“Dan, why is your door locked?” Lucy’s voice follows, accompanied by the frantic twist of the doorknob.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to convince myself I can’t shut Lucy out. She’s my friend, and it isn’t her fault I’m angry at myself for letting Isabella walk away today.

“Dan?” Lucy insists.

I finally open the door.

“Why are you hiding in here?” she asks, stepping inside before I can answer. She shuts the door behind her and adds suggestively, “Were you waiting for me?”

“No,” I say flatly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want?”

She follows me and drops onto my lap, looping her arms around my neck and leaning in close. “Now it’s the perfect time to give you your eighteenth birthday present,” she whispers, pressing against me and brushing her lips along my jaw.

I close my eyes, letting myself react to her touch even though Isabella’s face fills my mind instead—I can see the latter’s smile so clearly it hurts. For a split second, I almost convince myself she’s the one sitting on my lap, the one leaning in, and the one making my pulse race.

“I missed you so much, Dan…” Lucy murmurs, her voice low and familiar.

I lie on top of her, kissing her on autopilot. I try to force Isabella out of my head and focus on the girl who’s actually underneath me, but it’s harder than it should be.

My eyes stay shut as my mind betrays me, replaying how Isabella looked today. The way she smiled. The way she smelled. The way my chest tightened every time she glanced at me. I hate myself for it, even as I cling to the moment, desperate to forget.

When it’s over, I open my eyes as the room goes painfully quiet. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, guilt settling deep in my gut. I don’t even want to look at Lucy—not because of her, but because I don’t deserve to.

“That was fast, Dan,” she says hesitantly, still catching her breath. “Why did you keep your eyes closed?”

I force myself to sit up and finally meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I guess I just… missed you,” I lie.

“We can do it again,” she suggests, her hand drifting lower as she presses closer to me.

“I think we should go back to the backyard.” I get out of bed before she can tempt me any further. “My mom’s probably wondering where I am.”

She frowns. “Are you sure? We could stay here a bit longer.”

“Our friends and my family are waiting,” I reply, already pulling on my clothes. “I can’t just disappear.”

“You’re right. Anywho, maybe we can smoke something later tonight.” She fishes a rolled cigarette out of her jeans. “I brought it for you. You can consider it another birthday present.”

I’ve been in plenty of fights, and I’m far from an exemplary young man, but I’ve never gotten involved with hard drugs like my friends have. At most, I smoke a cigarette or two and drink alcohol now and then.

However, though, this time the temptation hits hard—hard enough to make me consider using it to dull everything I feel for the princess—but I manage to shake my head and refuse her “present.”

“I know you want to try it, Dan. The sparkle in your eyes tells me everything,” Lucy insists, her lips curling into a smug smile.

“Why did you bring that into my house?” I snap. “Throw that thing in the garbage, and don’t you ever offer it to me again.”

“But Dan, I—”

“Now,” I bark.

She freezes for a second, then turns away, pulling her clothes back on before storming out of my bedroom.

I take a deep breath and head to the bathroom, disposing of the used condom—god forbid my mom ever find it. She knows I’m not a virgin, but there’s no need to leave proof lying around.

I splash cold water on my face, gripping the edge of the sink until the tension finally eases from my shoulders. Once I feel steady enough, I make my way back to the backyard, ready to rejoin my friends and to pretend that Isabella’s eyes aren’t haunting me twenty-four seven.

* * *

Mom asks me to cut the cake the moment I step into the backyard, and I agree without hesitation. Lucy is already hanging out with our friends, and even though she looks calm and collected, I know her well enough to catch the anger simmering behind her eyes.

Once everyone gathers around the table—my mom’s chiffon cake front and center—I’m forced to endure the dreaded Happy Birthday song, silently cursing whoever invented this stupid tradition before finally cutting the cake. I mean, why would anyone want to delay eating? I seriously don’t get it.

Thankfully, it’s over in less than a minute, and I finally get to eat what I’ve been looking forward to all day, as I love Mom’s chiffon cake. Whenever she bakes it, it feels like a celebration in this house—though she doesn’t do it often, since we can’t afford the ingredients on a regular basis.

Later that night, the guests head home, leaving just Mom, Hugo, Lucy, and me in the backyard while Dad takes care of Rose and Oliver. We decide to clean up right away so we can sleep without worrying about the mess.

“Did you enjoy your party, Dan?” Mom asks softly.

“Of course I did. Thank you so much for it,” I reply, matching her tone.

“I like your friend Isabella,” she adds casually. “She’s so sweet and polite.”

I flinch at the mention of the princess’ name.

“I don’t like her,” Lucy cuts in, trying—and failing—to sound respectful. “She doesn’t belong here. I don’t know why you think she’s sweet.”

“You’re jealous of Isabella because she’s pretty and rich—unlike you,” Hugo smirks, laughing.

“Why would I be jealous of that goody-two-shoes?” Lucy scoffs, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m just stating the truth.”

“You should invite Isabella again, Dan.” Mom smiles warmly. “I promised her I’d bake another cake since she had to leave early.”

“Can you stop talking about her already?” Lucy yells. “You shouldn’t waste your time kissing her ass, Samantha.”

I immediately glare at her, seeing red. “What the hell, Lucy? Don’t talk to my mom like that.”

The backyard goes silent.

I don’t care how mad she is, or why. But yelling at my mom is unforgivable.

Lucy snaps back, “What’s your problem, Daniel?”

“Go home, Lucy. I don’t want you here anymore,” I say, turning away from her.

“Go to hell, Daniel,” she claps back before storming out of the backyard.

“What happened?” Hugo asks me once she’s gone. “Why did you tell her to leave?”

Feeling rage still bubbling in my chest, I grumble, “She yelled at my mom, and I can’t just pretend nothing happened. Besides, she wouldn’t stop calling Isabella a goody-two-shoes.”

“Hmmm…” He stares at me, visibly suspicious.

I finish gathering the discarded cups from the grass and head toward my bedroom.

Hugo follows me inside, staying quiet until the door closes behind us. “Now that we’re alone,” he says, “you can tell me what’s really going on.”

I sit on my bed and shrug.

“This has something to do with the rich girl, doesn’t it?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Her name is Isabella,” I correct him.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he gestures to an imaginary crowd as he sits beside me, “I think we’ve found the source of the problem. Talk to me, Dan.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I tried to distract myself earlier, and it didn’t work. No matter what I did, my head was somewhere else.” I punch my pillow, my frustration finally spilling over.

“I don’t blame you because Isabella’s gorgeous.”

“Damn it,” I mutter. “She wasn’t supposed to come to my party. She wasn’t supposed to give me a present. She definitely wasn’t supposed to bond with my family. Even Oliver liked her, and he doesn’t like anybody.” I run a hand through my hair again.

“Then why did you invite her?” Hugo presses.

“I didn’t. Kim did. I mean, technically, I invited her too, but that was after Kim already had, and I didn’t think she’d actually show up. She’s supposed to be this untouchable, snooty girl who doesn’t even know I exist.” I start pacing around my bedroom.

“This is interesting. I’ve known you since we were ten, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you lose your shit over a girl.”

“I need to forget Isabella,” I declare bitterly. “But the harder I try, the worse it gets. I’m pathetic, Hugo. I don’t even know her.”

“You’re attracted to her because she’s beautiful,” he replies calmly. “Give it time. It’ll pass.”

“Damn it. I’ve got a crush on the most popular girl in school, like, how cliché. I’m such a loser.”

* * *