Chapter 18
PIPER
The first thing that hits me is the smell. Chocolate brownies and cheap beer mixing with too many competing colognes. Fairy lights blink from every surface, and bass thumps through the floorboards hard enough to rattle my bones. The house pulses like something alive.
For months, I’ve avoided parties—too much risk of running into Miles, too many pitying looks from people who knew about my pathetic crush. But tonight feels different. The fairy lights wrapped around my torso feel like an armor, like I’m wearing confidence instead of just Christmas decorations.
And Ethan—Jesus Christ, Ethan.
He’s standing in the center of the living room wearing nothing but white boxers and a garland of fake autumn leaves draped strategically across his chest. He should look ridiculous. He should look like every bad decision wrapped in craft store clearance items.
Instead, he looks like a nature god who got lost on the way to a photoshoot.
“There she is!” He spots me, and his whole face transforms. “My electric fairy!”
Before I can be properly mortified by that nickname, he’s crossing the room, completely unbothered by his lack of clothing. People part for him—maybe because of his confidence, maybe because they’re worried the leaves might shift.
“You actually wore it,” I say when he reaches me.
“I’m fully committed to this.” He does a little spin, leaves rustling. “Greg helped me arrange them for maximum coverage.”
“Greg has questionable judgment.”
“Greg is a style icon.” He gestures to where the plant sits near the door, tiny wizard hat perched on a leaf.
“Is Greg wearing a wizard hat?”
“Greg deserves to party, too. He’s been practicing his spell-casting all week.”
“You’re ridiculous.” But I'm smiling, a real and warm glow filling my chest.
“Come on, you need to meet everyone.” His hand finds the small of my back, warm against the thin fabric of my tank top. The touch is casual, natural, like we’ve done this a hundred times. Like we’re actually together.
Freddie materializes with a brownie that sparkles suspiciously. “You must be the famous Piper! Ethan won’t shut up about—”
“brOWNIES!” Ethan interrupts loudly. “Fred makes great brownies. You should try one. Right now.”
Freddie grins wickedly but hands me the brownie. It’s incredible—dark chocolate and espresso and something that makes my tongue tingle.
“Holy shit,” I mumble through crumbs.
“SEE?” Freddie turns to Troy. “I told you! Best fucking brownies in the house!”
“Your brownies are good,” Troy concedes, his aluminum foil armor crinkling as he moves. “But my mac and cheese—”
They devolve into competitive cooking talk. Ethan steers me away, hand still on my back.
“Sorry about them. They’re... a lot.”
“They’re great,” I say, meaning it. His friends are warm, welcoming, nothing like the computer science crowd who treated me like Miles’s shadow for years.
We drift through the party. Ethan introduces me to people from his classes, his game design group, random party guests. Every introduction comes with that hand on my back, little touches that feel both performative and genuine. My fairy lights catch on his leaves occasionally, tangling us together.
“Partner pong?” Alex appears, already setting up cups. “Ethan and Piper versus me and Tara!”
“I’m terrible at this,” I warn.
“Perfect, so am I.” Ethan grins. “We’ll lose together.”
Except we don’t lose. By some miracle (or maybe Ethan’s surprisingly good aim compensating for my disasters), we win three rounds straight. The punch is strong and sweet and makes everything feel lighter.
“Photo!” Alex produces a Polaroid. “Document the champions!”
Ethan pulls me close, and I’m hyperaware of his bare skin against my lights. The camera flashes. In the developing photo, we look like we belong together—him all golden confidence and ridiculous leaves, me glowing literally and figuratively.
“You’re having fun,” he observes as we retreat to the kitchen for water.
“Is that so surprising?”
“You said parties weren’t your scene.”
“Maybe I just needed the right party.” The words come out more honest than intended.
He studies me over his Solo cup, and something passes between us—not quite the fake relationship, not quite real, but something.
“Dance with me,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“Come on.” He takes my hand. “Can’t fake date someone without at least one dance.”
The living room is packed, sweaty bodies moving to some throwback that has everyone screaming lyrics. Ethan pulls me into the crowd, and suddenly we’re dancing—nothing fancy, just moving together, his hands on my waist, my fairy lights blinking between us.
He spins me, and I laugh—actually laugh, not the carefully controlled sound I usually make. When he pulls me back, we’re closer than before.
“I like that,” he says, mouth near my ear to be heard over the music.
“Like what?”
“When you laugh for real. When you forget to be careful.”
My heart does something complicated in my chest. This is fake, I remind myself. We’re pretending.
But the way he’s looking at me doesn’t feel fake at all.
Then the front door opens, and the temperature drops ten degrees.
Harper enters first wearing what looks like an expensive bedsheet draped into an elegant toga, held together with gold pins and rope.
It should look cheap, but of course, she makes it look like haute couture.
Behind her, Miles wears a matching white sheet toga with a laurel crown—or tries to.
Harper stops in the doorway, yanking at his toga with sharp, efficient movements.
She turns, scanning the party, and her gaze lands on us. Something flickers across her face—not just recognition, but a kind of weary knowing.
My stomach drops.
Ethan notices immediately. His hand slides down to mine, fingers interlacing. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I lie.
But I’m not fine. I’m watching Miles adjust Harper’s toga strap, watching her laugh at something he says, watching them be everything I wanted and could never have.
“Bedsheet togas,” Ethan mutters. “How original.”
Despite everything, I snort. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being observant.” He squeezes my hand. “Besides, your lights are way better than their Bed Bath and Beyond clearance rack. Hey.” Ethan turns me to face him, blocking my view. “Remember why we’re here?”
“To make him jealous.” The words taste bitter.
“No.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles. “To show him what he missed. To show him you’ve moved on. To show him you’re happy.”
“Am I happy?”
He smiles, soft and real. “You were five minutes ago. Before they walked in.”
He’s right. I was happy. I was laughing and dancing and forgetting to be careful.
“How convincing do we need to be?” I ask, pulse racing.
His eyes darken. “How convincing do you want to be?”
Across the room, Miles has spotted us. He’s staring at our joined hands, at the way Ethan’s leaves brush my lights, at how close we’re standing. His toga slips slightly and he hastily readjusts it, his scowl making him look less like a Greek god and more frat boy.
“Very, very convincing.”
“Thank fuck,” Ethan mutters, and then his hand is in my hair and his mouth is on mine.
This isn’t a gentle kiss. This isn’t testing the waters. This is Ethan kissing me like he’s been thinking about it all night, like the fake boyfriend thing was killing him, like he’s been waiting for permission to stop pretending.
His teeth catch my bottom lip and I gasp, hands fisting in his leaf garland. The party disappears. There’s just Ethan, warm and solid and tasting like cinnamon punch, kissing me like I’m something precious instead of someone’s second choice.
When we break apart, I’m dizzy.
“Was that—” I start.
“Convincing?” He’s breathing hard, pupils blown wide. “Yeah, Pip. I think we sold it.”
I glance over his shoulder. Miles is frozen, Harper tugging at his toga to get his attention. His face is a study in shock and something else—something that looks a lot like regret.
Good.
“Maybe we should make sure,” I say, riding the high of Miles’s expression. “Really drive it home.”
Ethan grins, wild and beautiful. “I like how you think.”
He kisses me again, and this time I kiss back with everything I have. Let Miles watch. Let him see what it looks like when someone actually wants me.
Let him choke on his stupid bedsheet toga.