First Party

That evening, she asked her mom for permission and when her mom asked what she was doing, she lied.

“Studying at a friend’s.” The words rolled off her tongue easily that shocked her with how natural it felt when in fact it was her first lie.

'So.. That's what lying felt like..'

The first pink crack in her perfect world.

She's in Aylao now, she's alone, she doesn't know anyone, she felt left out. The bass thumped through the walls before Lashy even reached the door. She hesitated, holding her phone tightly. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Her pastel cardigan looked wrong against the sea of black figures. Laughter spilled into the night, thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp sting of alcohol.

And then he appeared.

Matthew pushed the door open, stepping onto the porch like he owned the night. His hoodie was gone, replaced by a black t-shirt that clung to him in ways that made Lashy’s stomach felt like there's a butterfly shattered inside it.

“Thought you’d chicken out,” he drawled, eyes eyeing over her outfit.

“I—I said I’d come.”

His smirk widened. “Brave little Barbie.” He leaned closer, voice low. “C’mon. Let’s see if you survive this.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her inside.

 The living room was packed, bodies pressed close as music vibrated through the floor. Neon lights painted everyone in shifting shades of red and black.

Matthew shoved a red cup into her hand. “Drink.”

“What is it?” she asked, peeking at the liquid. “Does it matter?” His grin dared her.

Her fingers tightened around the cup. She’d never tasted alcohol before, but under his gaze, saying no felt impossible to say.

She took a sip. The burn clawed down her throat, making her cough. Matthew laughed, steadying her with a hand on her back. “Relax. You’ll get used to it.”

And she wanted to. She wanted to prove she wasn’t just soft pink satin. She lifted the cup again.

Matthew wanted to have some fresh air so they ended up outside, the nights cool air against her flushed cheeks. Matthew lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face.

“You ever tried smoking?” he asked, exhaling a perfect ring of smoke. Lashy shook her head. He held it out. “Now’s your chance.”

Her heart will blast anytime. Everything inside her screamed no, but her hand moved anyway. She lifted it to her lips, inhaled. The smoke went straight to her lungs, making her gag and cough until her eyes watered.

Matthew chuckled, taking it back. “Not bad, Pinky. Not bad at all.” Her chest burned, but when he smiled at her like that, it almost felt worth it.

“See? You’re not as boring as you look,” Matthew said, leaning against the porch railing. She blinked. “Boring?”

“Come on. Look at you. Pink sweater, bows, strawberry gloss. I thought you were the kind of girl who goes home at nine to watch cartoons.” He laughs as he said that.

Her cheeks flushed hot. “I’m not a kid.”

“Not anymore, maybe.” His eyes flicked over her again, sharp and appraising. “You’ve got potential.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but the way he said it made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous.

When Lashy sneak back into the house, the clock indicate 2:39 AM. Her parents were asleep. She immediately went upstairs, heart racing, and lie down on her bed fully dressed. The smell of smoke clung to her hair, the faint taste of alcohol still on her lips.

For a moment, guilt stabbed through her.

But then she remembered the way Matthew had looked at her. The way he’d said she wasn’t boring. The way he praised her. And that guilt melted into something else.

Happiness.

The next morning, she stood in front of her mirror. Her eyes were tired. Her cardigan hung limp, carrying the faint smell of cigarettes.

For the first time, she wondered if pink made her look fragile and childish.

Her fingers lingered on the drawer where her bows sat neatly arranged. She didn’t take one. Not today. When she left for school, her hair was bare.

The whispers at school changed. Instead of mutters about her pink personality, this time, it was different. Completely different.

“She was at the party.”

“With Matthew.”

“She’s different.”

Lashy kept her head high, pretending not to hear. But when Matthew passed her in the hallway, his smirk was just for her.

And that was enough.

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