The thumping bass vibrated through the floor, a physical assault on my senses. Melanie, oblivious, tugged at my skirt, her mission to make me look "slutty" for the night. "What the hell, Mel. Pull it up any higher and you can see my butt cheeks," I grumbled, yanking at the fabric. She just smirked.

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“Why do we have to go again?” I asked, already knowing her answer. Senior year, she’d declared, was their time to be seen, to shed the cloak of invisibility that had defined our high school existence. My internal debate about the merits of being invisible versus bullied was cut short by the mention of my kryptonite: LB. Lucky Blue Smith, basketball god, totally out of my league.

As we snuck out, my dad’s warning about recent murders involving "beautiful young girls" lingered in the air, quickly dismissed by my mom. It was thirty minutes into the city, and by the time we reached the bar, my nerves were frayed. "Mel, this isn't a good idea, let's go home and watch a movie or something," I pleaded, twisting my fingers. She just smiled, pulling out my hair tie and glasses, transforming me into someone unrecognizable.

The bar was a sea of Riverton High students, the popular crowd I never knew existed. Melanie expertly ordered drinks, and soon I was sipping sangria, feeling a forbidden thrill. But then I saw him, LB, with Mikaela Stratford, his arm around her, the perfect couple. My disappointment was a bitter taste, even with the fruity drink. That’s when I saw him.

Across the bar, sitting alone, was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Dark hair, perfect jawline, plump lips. Our eyes locked, and a jolt went through me. He smiled, and my heart stopped. Then, he was beside me. "Hey," a deep voice murmured, and my world tilted.