Chapter Six - Silly Decisions

Harper's bedroom glowed beneath the fading light of the setting sun, streaks of amber and dusty pink slipping through the sheer curtains and pooling across the floorboards. She sat at the edge of her bed, legs crossed neatly, flicking lazily through a half-open Teen Vogue sprawled across her lap. Across from her, Vivienne lay sprawled on the duvet like a cat in the sun, clicking frantically through channels on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

The house was unusually quiet tonight. The rest of the Baldwin family had gone out for Harriet's eighteenth birthday dinner—some upscale restaurant in the heart of town—but Harper had refused to attend. No one argued. She hadn't spoken to Harriet in weeks.

"Ugh! There's literally like, nothing to watch!" Vivienne groaned in frustration, her perfectly manicured brows knitting together. She jabbed the remote repeatedly, the channels blurring into an incoherent mess of late-night talk shows and reruns.

With a dramatic sigh, she tossed the remote aside and grabbed her phone. Within seconds, her face lit up, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. She scooted upright and leaned over, thrusting the screen in front of Harper's face.

The screen displayed photo after photo of a raucous house party—teenagers laughing, red cups in hand, beer pong in progress, and one kid doing a handstand in a kiddie pool. Harper arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, dryly.

Vivienne just smirked. "Because we're going. That party's just a few streets away. Come on, let's get this weekend started!"

Harper blinked slowly. "Viv, they won't let us in. We're literally underage."

Vivienne rolled her eyes, already hopping off the bed and smoothing out her hair. "Everyone there is underage. Just lie. It's not like they check IDs at the door—this isn't a nightclub."

Harper hesitated. A knot of anxiety began to twist in her stomach. She didn't want to be boring, but the thought of showing up to a party full of strangers—drunk strangers—terrified her. She watched as Vivienne rummaged through her closet like a whirlwind and pulled out a dusty pink dress Harper had once worn for a Halloween costume.

"Mind if I wear this?"

"Go for it." Harper mumbled, closing the magazine and dropping it beside her on the tangled sheets.

Vivienne changed quickly, chattering nonstop. "If it sucks, we can just leave. But Max is gonna be there, and we've kinda been... talking. Like, outside of class and stuff."

Harper stood slowly, crossing the room to her closet. Her fingers skimmed the hangers until they landed on a soft, light blue dress she barely remembered owning. Where was Millie when she needed her? Millie probably would've shut this down immediately—called it a disaster waiting to happen. But it was just one party. One night.

What could go wrong?

Everything.

Two hours later, Harper was alone in a house that throbbed with deafening music and drunken energy. The walls pulsed with bass; voices slurred, glasses clinked, and someone was definitely throwing up in the upstairs bathroom.

Vivienne was nowhere to be found.

Harper sat stiffly on the edge of a group forming a wide circle on the living room floor. In the center: a single, empty beer bottle, spinning wildly.

The girl who had just spun it—tall, freckled, with striking red hair that brushed past her waist—grinned wickedly as the bottle landed, unmistakably, on Harper.

"What's your name again?" the redhead asked, cocking her head.

"Harper." she said, her voice barely audible above the chaos.

The redhead smirked, exchanging glances with her equally drunk friends. "Alright, Harper—truth or dare?"

Harper's heart pounded. Her stomach turned. She didn't know these people. She shouldn't be here. But something in her told her to push through. Just this once. Be cool.

"...Dare."

A chorus of "ooohs" rippled around the room.

"Daredevil, huh?" The redhead's eyes gleamed. "Okay. I dare you to kiss Conrad. For at least a minute."

Harper blinked. Who the hell was Conrad?

The redhead added sweetly, "And if you chicken out, the forfeit is... jumping in the pool. Naked. With everyone watching."

Laughter erupted around the room. Harper's eyes scanned the circle, landing on a boy leaning against the couch—tall, sweaty, glassy-eyed. He stumbled toward her, reeking of beer and some cheap, overpowering cologne.

Without asking, he dropped beside her and slung an arm over her shoulders. He burped.

Then, before Harper could react, he pressed his lips to hers. It was wet, sloppy, forceful. She recoiled inwardly, her stomach flipping in protest. She'd never kissed anyone before, and this... this wasn't how she pictured it.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, cringing as the room howled with laughter.

"Forty-five seconds." the redhead said mockingly. "But I'll let you off. Spin the bottle."

Harper stood abruptly. "Bathroom," she muttered, already slipping through the crowd.

But she didn't go to the bathroom. She headed for the kitchen instead, one hand gripping the counter for support. Her vision blurred, her head throbbed, and her body felt foreign. Was this what being drunk felt like?

"Vivienne... I need to find Viv..."

Her voice barely carried. She stumbled toward the front of the house, pushing past bodies, blinking through the haze. The air outside hit her like a slap—cool and crisp.

She didn't make it far.

Doubling over into the bushes lining the porch, Harper vomited violently. Her chest heaved, hands trembling as she spat onto the sidewalk. Her heart raced like it might burst.

Across the street, two figures appeared—laughing, chatting as they left the movie theater. Sophie noticed first.

"Oh no... that poor girl—"

Millie turned to look, eyes narrowing. "That's... Harper."

She didn't hesitate. Sprinting across the road, Millie reached Harper and placed a hand gently on her back.

"Hey! Harper, hey, it's me. Are you okay? What happened?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.

The smell of alcohol hit her instantly.

"Harper..." Millie's voice grew stern. "Have you been drinking? You're on medication. You can't drink on that stuff—it's dangerous."

Sophie stood back, watching in alarm as Millie slipped an arm around Harper's waist to steady her. "Come on. Let's get you home."

—

Back at the Baldwin residence, Harper was hunched over the upstairs toilet, retching miserably.

Millie stood outside the door, arms crossed, pacing. Cody appeared at the top of the stairs, frowning.

"A party? Really, Millie?"

Millie whirled around, incredulous. "Don't even look at me like that—I didn't take her. I found her like that. Sophie and I were leaving the cinema when we saw her throwing up in a bush."

Cody leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. "She's not right in the head, Millie. You know that."

Millie bristled. "She was mumbling something about Vivienne. I think it was her idea."

"Vivienne? Her friend?" Cody asked.

Millie shrugged just as the bathroom door creaked open. Harper emerged, pale as paper, eyes red-rimmed, the stench of vomit and alcohol clinging to her like smoke.

Cody stepped forward and gave her a soft but scolding smack on the back of the head. "Are you serious? A party? While you're on meds? What the hell were you thinking?"

Harper groaned and stumbled into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Millie and Cody exchanged a look—part anger, part heartbreak—as silence fell over the upstairs hallway.