Fox at the Party

The stupid fedora sat crooked on my head like a desperate cry for attention. Which it was. Totally.

"You look like a giant toddler playing dress-up," Maya said, not looking up from her phone as we walked toward Jordan's house. "Just saying."

"It's called fashion, Maya. Look it up." I adjusted the **hat**, suddenly aware of how my palms were sweating against the cheap felt. This was it. Jordan's party. The party where I would finally talk to him. Like, *actually* talk. Not just awkward nod-in-the-hallway talk.

The bass thumped through Jordan's front door like a heartbeat. Inside, kids spilled across the lawn, red Solo cups in hand, laughter cutting through the night. I spotted him immediately by the back porch, surrounded by his usual squad.

"Oh my GOD," Maya whispered. "Is that–"

Chloe Stevens. The girl who'd somehow gone from theater nerd to Tiktok famous in, like, three months. The girl Jordan couldn't stop talking about.

She was wearing a vintage leather jacket with–I had to squint–actual **fox** fur trim? The audacity was honestly kind of iconic. And of course she looked effortless while I looked like I was cosplaying a 1920s gangster.

"I'm gonna go get some air," I mumbled, already backing away.

"Wait, what? No. You came here to–"

But I was already moving through the crowd, the stupid hat suddenly feeling ten pounds heavier. I ended up on the back deck, where some sophomore was doing something truly unholy with **goldfish** crackers and mountain dew.

"Watch this," he said, and dropped a whole handful of crackers into his mouth.

"Dude," I said. "That's actually foul."

"It's for the tiktok," he explained, chewing. "You want one?"

What did I have to lose? I grabbed a handful, crunched down, and felt the artificial cheese coating my tongue in something oddly comforting.

"Nice hat," he said suddenly. "Bold choice."

I touched the brim. "Yeah. Trying to be someone I'm not."

"Weird strategy for a party." He grinned. "Usually people just get drunk and make bad decisions."

I laughed. Actual laughed. And when I looked back toward the house, Jordan was there, watching me, smiling.

"Hey," he said, stepping onto the deck. "I like your hat."

I adjusted it, suddenly not hating it so much. "Thanks. It's a work in progress."

"Most things are." He held out a red cup. "Want to get out of here? I know a spot that has actual food. Not goldfish."

I took the cup. I took off the hat. I took a breath.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."