Chapter Text
When Regina decided to attend Savannah Williams’s New Year’s Eve party, it was under the pretense that she could use it as a way to get her ex-boyfriend Aaron Samuels back. It was the perfect setup after all. To pay homage to the New Year’s kiss tradition, Savannah curated a game she liked to call “The Midnight Door.” She plays it every year. Girls put one article of their belongings in a wooden bowl and then pick a randomized number via crumpled paper to get their designated door. Each item in the wooden bowl gets branded by that same number with a post-it note. All the while keeping that number strictly secret to avoid cheating.
Once each girl gets a number, they go to their designated room and wait to see which guy they get paired up with. Something that is completely dependent on which guy happens to pull their item from the bowl. Regina’s not a frequent player per se, but she has played in the past. That’s how she met Shane Oman, later known as her side dick whenever she and Aaron had a falling out. On any regular degular day she wouldn’t care if she did get him again. However, this time she came with a plan and with her bets solely on her ex-boyfriend.
See, Aaron Samuels had done what she considers a grave sin in her books.
Move on from her.
Blue zircon eyes narrow back into a fissure-sized glare as she stares at that head of familiar chestnut brown hair, broad shoulders, and a slender build, leaning down to whisper in some raven-haired girl’s ear. A sprinkle of giggles bubbles from her lips with the same cadence as a rusted spray bottle. Regina rolls her eyes just at the mere sight of it. Even at the damn noise of it. If he’s going to replace me, can he at least pick someone that doesn’t sound like she belongs in a fucking Windex commercial?
Furthermore, she guessed they must still not be all that serious considering they were still participating in tonight’s game. Regina observes silently as Aaron’s new girl plops one of her things into the bowl. A shoddy silver bangle that looks like it was purchased from the ‘on sale’ section at Claire’s. A spiteful, sarcastic scoff darts from her pursed lips. A grating laugh and broke. Aaron sure knows how to pick ‘em.
Once it came to her turn to deposit something, she found herself in a bit of a conundrum. On one hand, she could purposefully put something she knows Aaron would easily be able to detect as hers. However, if she goes the obvious route, then every other guy might just as clearly come to the same conclusion. She didn’t want to risk getting set up with a skeeze for her first kiss of the year, but she wanted the reassurance that he’d still be able to discern her belonging specifically. Though, there is that possibility he’ll specifically avoid picking her, but if she’s going off those secret glances he’s been giving her all night alone, she highly doubts it.
Maybe I should pick something small but memorable?
Regina takes that moment to rifle through her purse. Aaron is too dumb to figure out the mechanics of makeup, let alone which one she specifically uses. While she’d also rather walk barefoot in a parking lot than put in any jewelry in the same container that housed cheap metals like Aaron’s new girl’s mediocre bracelet. Regina reluctantly settles for something she’d have to manifest major faith in - that he and his athlete, hanging by two brain cells, mind, will be able to catch. Her strawberry lip balm.
She figures, surely, they’ve at least made out enough times for him to remember that much.
Soft carpet scrapes against the bottom points of her heels as she stares down at her number. The crumpled piece of paper reads “Room 4” in Sharpie. When she finds the room, she’s pleased to see it’s a master bedroom. The walls are a pastel mint green, with snow-white carpet, and a king-size bed draped over with silks of emerald greens and sapphire blues.
The perfect room for a steamy reunion she smirks triumphantly.
***
Boys line up straight as a ruler in front of a mere wooden bowl housing a collection of plastics, metals, and fabrics. Each boy contemplates like ‘The Thinker’ statue brought to life. Fifth in line, Rodrick Heffley anxiously fiddles with the sides of his flannel. His fingers pick at the black buttons like jittery, driven fingers against a fresh pimple.
For these past few months he’s been trying to catch his bearings at North Shore. Being the new kid during senior year was basically social suicide. Everyone already had their cliques, and many were unwilling to extend a lending hand. Whether that be to keep up social hierarchies or because their only sole goal that year is to graduate and leave that shithole once and for all. That left Rodrick out on the sidelines like a pariah.
He hoped participating in their games would help melt away the resolve to keep him at a distance. However, he may have bitten off way more than he could chew. Scratch that, he may have dove headfirst into something without actually bothering to understand what exactly was happening in the first place. When he heard the tagline “Midnight Door,” his immediate thought was spooky, not sexy. How was he supposed to know this was a freaking hookup game?! And how was he supposed to kiss anyone in a school that keeps guys like him out?
By the time it’s his turn to rummage through the items, there are about four of them left. A makeup compact, a bracelet, lip balm, and a pack of mint gum. Shit. Rodrick wipes his sweaty hands discreetly down his thighs. The decision felt as taxing as cranking out a math problem. How was he supposed to choose? Pick the safest option? But based on what?
The makeup compact gives off appearance-based vibes, so if they’re hoping for a real Romeo, then maybe not that one?
The bracelet gives off boujee and something tells me my gray and black checkered flannel and graphic shirt aren’t going to cut it.
Lip balm gives off a determination for a memorable make out session, but I’ve only ever kissed one other person, so that’s bound for disappointment.
The mint pack of gum gives off cleanliness, and I can’t even remember if I put on deodorant this morning, so maybe not that one either.
Well, fuck, that’s all of them. What now?
He sighs, wiping down the tense muscle at the side of his face. His fingers massage his temple as if he can dispel the agitated headache as easily as a Band - Aid on a cut. He’s aware he doesn’t have all day and that it’s too late to back out now. I’m just going to have to wing it and wish for the best. Rodrick nervously dips his hand in, briefly searching around before making the rash decision, plunging forward, and going for it.
When he retracts his hand back, he sees a small tube cradled in his palm. Lip balm. And when he turns it, he sees the label, Room 4, written in Sharpie.
***
Regina sighs, sitting boredly at the edge of the bed with her legs crossed and aimlessly tugging at her black leather skirt. She impatiently rocks her foot against her calf. Her eyes are cemented on the clock, hung up on the side wall, counting down the seconds in the same rhythm as the tsking sound of its second hand. She felt tempted enough to lie back and take a nap from all the waiting.
What the fuck is taking Aaron so long?
She gnashes down on her teeth annoyedly.
The silence allowed a moment for her thoughts to wander. What was the point in all this anyway? Does she really like Aaron all that much? No, not really. Did it hurt to see him with another girl? It stung, but nothing a trip to the mall wouldn’t fix. Does she love him? Well, I don’t hate him. Doesn’t that count for something?
Regina frowns at her own inner monologue. The point is just because she didn’t want something anymore didn’t mean someone else could have it. It’s still hers. She isn’t some fucking charity. What’s hers is hers and will continue to be so even after she’s discarded it. What does she look like having her ex-boyfriend not only move on from her but also choose someone that couldn’t be in the same league as her even if you slapped gold across her forehead? The most popular guy in school, and he picks her? It’s embarrassing.
This is Regina’s school, and no one that insignificant can ever rise above her.
She needed to teach them both a lesson.
Suddenly, her body sits back up straight as a pillar at the rattle of the door’s metal knob. It jiggles almost as if uncertain. Any past lingering thoughts or inner doubts vanish at the creak of the door and the yawn of its hinges. Regina grins, lounging back just slightly onto her arms in order to further display herself in all her glory, resting sprawled on the bed.
However, when he pops his head in, it’s not dark cinnamon waves she sees, but a disheveled loose bush of hair as dark as winter soil. A pair of espresso brown eyes searches curiously around the room like a newborn cub, stopping short to widen upon catching sight of her.
The smile wipes off her face as instantly as chalk to water, in favor of shocked disdain.
“What the fuck.” She seethes at the same time he utters, “Holy shit.”
“Who the hell are you?” Regina demands, jumping back to her feet. Her eyes scan over his wrinkled shirt, tight skinny jeans, battered Converse, and a small trail of stench that smells like old socks.
Oh my god, ew!
“I-I’m Rodrick.” The brunette walks the rest of the way inside, gently closing the door behind him. His eyes never break away from hers, taking in the sinfully short skirt, the tightly fitted pink long-sleeve crop top, and that pretty but offended look on her face. “You’re Regina.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” She hisses like a cornered feral animal one step away from wrenching her teeth through his skin if he dares to come any closer. “How did you -” She goes to confront him, but her eyes fall to his hand, where a small miniature white cap peers through his fingertips. Small red letters spell out the word ‘strawberry’ printed on its side. She swears under her breath, palming her forehead with a slap of her hand.
“You picked the lip balm.” She concludes, uttering it in the same way as a death sentence.
“Uhh, yeah.” He smiles sheepishly, raising his hand still holding the cylinder tube. Rodrick lazily examines it, eyeing the small graphics of red fruit detailed onto the label. “I love strawberries by the way-”
“Shut up and sit down.”
He sucks in his lips as if sealing them. His body fortifies, steely like a glacier, and he carefully makes his way over, settling down onto the bed. Nothing but a muted groan of bedsprings dashes through the air. He sits, patiently gazing up at her. Regina takes note of his big brown eyes toeing the line between naive boyish innocence and pinpricks of heated mischief.
“I can’t believe this.” She hisses. “Did you see a guy that was like six four, with brown hair, and wearing a red shirt? Did he go before or after you?”
Rodrick slouches, seemingly stumped for a second. His eyes swim to the ceiling, most likely thinking and reflecting. An unsure frown slashes across his dopey face.
“His name is Aaron.” Regina chimes in, figuring if there’s one thing he’ll be able to process, a simple name shouldn’t be that hard.
If she stared hard enough, Regina feels like she could just see the wires in his head rubbing together, attempting to spark some kind of semblance of a thought. When something does seem to settle in his mind, his eyes bounce back down to her.
“Oh! Yeah, I think I remember him. He went before me. I don’t know what he picked up, but when it was my turn, there was makeup, a bracelet, mint gum, and your lip balm left.”
“What?! So he didn’t even get her stuff either? Then what was the point of - Ugh!” She groans in irritation, limply kicking at the carpet with her heels. How could he show up to this party with her on his arm like some prized parrot and ultimately not pick her? As well as not pick me? Was he always this much of an idiot? “This was such a waste of time. I fucking can’t with him.”
“Is this Aaron guy your boyfriend?”
“No! Ex-boyfriend. Not that it’s any of your business!” She retorts in a haughty snap, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. Even when angry, that lavish upturned-nose air about her still smoldered around her like smog.
“Okay. Not that it’s any of my business.“ He agrees, showing his hands in a surrendering motion. “But why does it matter whether your ex is here or not?”
“Because!”
“Cause what?”
“FYI, this has nothing to do with you! So forget it.” She bites out, only growing more livid the more she thinks about it. The audacity and stupidity of it all. She went through all this trouble, all this scheming, and for what? All for Aaron to pick some completely random girl to hook up with on New Year’s; meanwhile, she’s stuck here with some guy that looks like he crawled out of the waste bin at Hot Topic. She was so unbelievably peeved. “I just wanted to prove a point.”
“That being?” He chimes in, cocking his head, and once more further fueling her vexations.
“That I’m clearly better than whatever new bitch he thinks he can replace me with!” Regina exclaims, letting her words erupt like magma, burning and rushing out of her throat in a searing sneer.
“Why would a girl like you need to prove that?” He frowns.
“Excuse me?” She whirls around to him with a dancer’s grace, reminding him of a flower waltzing in the wind.
“Well…you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Why would you have to prove anything?” Rodrick asks, genuinely puzzled. A small fold of confusion creases between his thick black brows. “Is she hotter than you?” An offended, incredulous look tautens back her face.
“Are you trying to piss me off more?!” She snaps in a prickly voice.
“No! I’m trying to understand.” He raises his hands again like a perpetrator to a cop. “How can someone as perfect as you freak out over some guy when there’s probably hundreds that’d love to go out with you?”
Regina looks at him with a sardonic half smile before scoffing.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, dirt-faced freak.”
“Dirt face?” He echoes, dismayed.
Regina swiftly gestures her finger in a circle between his eyes.
“That isn’t dirt! That’s my eyeliner!”
“Looks like a middle schooler’s first drawing.” She quips in a snarky, disinterested dismissal.
“Okay, fine, whatever.” The brunette mutters, sinking into his seat in a stubborn slump. “I was just trying to help.”
The blonde narrows her eyes at him, propping one leg forward, with a hand on her hip.
“Your version of trying to help is basically just telling me I’m hot?”
“Everyone knows you are. So excuse me for wondering why the hottest girl in school is worrying her pretty blonde head over some ex-boyfriend. Who sounds like an idiot if he doesn’t want to be with you.” He shrugs now with a more satiric outline to his tone. Even a little biting in his delivery. Regina doesn’t appreciate it one bit, but the more she takes the time to look at him, the less repulsed she feels. She couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol because she didn’t want some sloppy hookup to kick off the year. So she hadn’t had any. Maybe it’s the qualities that are really beckoning to her senses at the moment.
Docile, awestruck, and self-aware of her superiority.
Something Aaron doesn’t have the decency to be well versed in.
Silently, she cocks her head, bending down a tad, peering at his shadowed face and taking note of his features. He’s no Fabio, but he has a firm jaw, cutting cheekbones, and candied sweet dark brown eyes. Along with a lone birthmark dotted at the corner of his brow like seashells spotting sand.
Not bad.
Could have definitely been a lot worse.
Regina takes in a careful breath through her nose. The expansion of her lungs loosens the stiffness in her muscles. It lightens the aggravation in her head.
She approaches the naturally scruffy boy lounging in his dark clothes, ruffling the bed like a riptide, a representation of his sloppy nature. Regina stands in front of his splayed-open legs. Close enough to make the hair at the nape of his neck twitch. His body locks up, tight as a vault, at the scenic view of opaline thighs mere inches away from his knees.
“So what exactly is so hot about me?” She questions, but really it comes off as more like an order. Rodrick straightens his spine into an arrow.
“Say again?” He asks, taken aback.
“Weren’t you just saying how I’m the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen and the hottest girl at school?” Regina drones back at him boredly. Flustered, he nods. “And what about me is so attractive? Or were you just bullshitting?”
“I wasn’t!” He’s quick to dismiss with a turbulent shake of his head. “It’s just hard to put into words. Like, explain why you’re pretty?”
“Why do you think I’m attractive, Rodrick?” She asks again in a way that feels authoritative. It makes him gulp. The intensity of those azurite blue eyes paired with that dictatorial stance looming over him singed his bloodstream in a flurry of sparks. Whether good or bad, he didn’t know. All he did know is that terrifying, intimidating essence to her only piqued his fascination.
“It’s because you’re a bitch.” He lets out of him like a natural exhale. The brief silence that followed had the same depth as a cave. The extension of an echo. Subtly, Regina nods. Her face is all hard lines.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“No, no! Not in, like, a bad way!”
“What other way could you have meant it as, asshole?” She glares. Her stare felt as penetrating as the tip of a needle.
“I meant like there are pretty girls everywhere, you know? But usually they have this specific kind of aesthetic to them. All poised, prim, and proper. When I first saw you, I thought you looked like a fairy with your sparkly gold hair, ocean eyes, perfect smile, and pretty clothes. Which was ironic, because you act the opposite.” He babbles animatedly. Those dark eyes darted between her and his restless hands. “You’d send girls sobbing to the bathroom, you’d make teachers have breakdowns in the middle of lectures from a single comment, guys would lose all street cred just for messing up with you once, and everyone either adored you or was deathly scared of you. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Regina stands deathly still, unable to determine whether any of this was actually a compliment or a roundabout way to insult her. Her nails burrow into the flesh of her upper arms.
Why did I even care what a lame freak like him has to say anyway? This is an utter waste of time. She wonders if she should just leave and stop him right here and now, before he ends up pissing her off even more, but then he continues.
“But that made all the more reason why I couldn’t stop looking at you. That’s why I find you so attractive. Girls are mean to me all the time, but never like you. It's like when the prettiest flower has the sharpest thorns. Everyone knows you shouldn’t touch it, but you can’t help but still want it anyway. Even if it hurts. Maybe you even want it to hurt a little. Kind of like that.” The words pour out of him like a geyser. They fall into the room with a resounding splat after every sentence, flooding the space around them.
Regina stares back at him, nearly slack-jawed at his word vomit. Her blue eyes bulged to the size of two identical moons on her face. Is he insane? I was just messing with him. She looks at him in astounded disbelief. She didn’t know if she felt secondhand embarrassment from all his dribble or a tad prideful to know he thought her so appealing that he even saw her vindictiveness as something to be taken by.
Even Aaron hated her cattiness.
It was like walking on eggshells with him. Always needing to be overly cutesy and dim-witted to match his league. He never saw her hostility as something worth valuing, let alone appreciating.
The loser could be lying.
Her eyes befall onto his awkward, lanky frame, drooping towards his knees. There’s a tentative and timid air about him. He doesn’t look clever enough to know how to smooth talk. Nor does he look intelligent enough to conjure up any kind of scheme. In the same cloth that makes him boyishly good-looking, is the same fabric that details a juvenile quality about him.
Harmless and simpleminded.
The boy squirms uneasily under the inquisitive intensity of her gaze.
She finds it amusing and oddly rousing.
“You think a guy would have to be an idiot to turn me down?” She asks further, mirroring more of his words back at him. It makes his head snap up as his hands wring together in a twitchy shudder. His fingers curl around his knuckles in unsteady knots.
“Yes,” he assures in a low mutter, obediently nodding his head.
She lets out an amused huff at that. The ire coursing in her bloodstream smoothens down low as an anthill. A curtain of blonde hair falls behind her shoulder with a brush of her pristine hand.
“Alright. Then close your legs.” She orders. Her eyes dropped downcast to his knobby knees, and the stance of his lower half unfurled in front of him.
“…What?” The brunette asks, his voice crushed into a whisper. His fingers wring even tighter together. The room suddenly began to feel a lot smaller around him.
“I said put your toothpick legs together.” She remarks curtly, outstretching her leg to tap the tip of her heel against his calf.
A head of ice forms in his throat. It sends glacial jolts, branching all over his body. Uncertainty stirs in his gut, but nonetheless he does as she commands. His legs lift, placing his feet down flat onto the carpet and pressing his knees together.
Regina says nothing. She only approaches closer. The floors having, muting the clack of her heels. His eyes silently watch after her as she rounds his legs. Rodrick’s breath stiffens, hard as bones, when she plops down onto his lap, perching herself upright on his thighs.
“I didn’t plan on having some rando take my first kiss of the year, but you seem like someone who’d appreciate it. Really appreciate it.” She uncrosses her arms, leaning towards him until her chest meets his. Slender fingers scale up the nape of his neck, threading through his hair. She’s pleased that despite its sloppy appearance, it’s soft and compliant to her ministrations. “You’re pathetic in a way I like.”
Rodrick feels like that’s meant to be a dig and he should be offended, but he’s too busy getting lost in that stroke of her nails scraping across his scalp and her fingers tangling into his hair. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears when she grazes her lips down his cheek all the way to the side of his mouth.
“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” She asks.
“No.” He answers quickly. His voice comes out breathy and soft as cotton. His blood pumps in a thunderous acceleration throughout his body. One that pounds even harder when one of her hands glides out from his hair, gripping him by the jaw.
“Good.” Her hand upturns his face towards her. A breeze of her breath sways over his mouth, enticing him towards her. The gaze of her eyes feels like a trance, luring him closer and closer. But before he can reach her, she places a finger against his lips. “Beg me to kiss you.” She smirks.
“Beg?” He asks with a gentle knit between his brows. A cloud mists over his mind filled with nothing but her featherlight touch, the melody of her voice, and the heat of her breath coaxing him to her.
“Do you want to kiss me?” She interrogates, tracing the pad of her finger along the curve of his upper lip.
“Yes, please.” He nods like an unscrewed bobblehead, whispering against her skin. The smell of vanilla wraps around him as tight as the bind of a kingsnake.
“Then beg.” She instructs. A devilish grin pitching up the corners of his lips. The kind that makes his heart pick up into a pitter-patter like hail.
“Can I please kiss you?” He mutters, turning his head to kiss the knuckle of her finger. His arms raise, roaming his hands down the dips of her sides, leading to the arch of her hips.
“You have to do better than that.” Regina instructs with a fiendish tease. Her smirk, as sharp as a cut, blooms even wider across her angelic face.
“Regina, can I please, please, kiss you? I will do anything.” Rodrick swears, gazing up at her like followers to their deities. It makes an electric hum thrum across her nerves. A feeling of satisfaction washes over her as consuming as a typhoon.
“One more.” She orders in a sing-song tone, drawing her finger away from his mouth, erasing any further barriers between them.
“Can I please take your mouth and get your lipstick all over me in a way your dumb ex won’t get to tonight?” Rodrick asks in finality with a heated edge to his every word. His request sounds nothing like a question, let alone begging. Yet, that does nothing to quell the flutters that whirl in her stomach, sending a lurch of electricity to spear through her chest. Hard enough to make her ribcage tremble.
“Smartass.” She breathes out in a snarky retort.
“Like it?” He counters with an impish grin. That flare of mischief she had initially detected in his gaze displayed itself before her. Matched with that cheeky way of his words and that roguish curl of his lips. Before she can help it, a snicker slips out from her.
One that makes a glow burst across his face at the sound of it, and before another second can tick past, Rodrick grasps her by the cheek, drawing her to him. Strands of her blonde hair fall against the sides of his face, making a rush of vanilla invade his senses like a clouded sky.
He brings her to him, taking her lips in his, until he can feel himself meld into her. A scorch catapults up his spine. She feels soft as fleece, and she tastes like what he imagines winter to taste like. A nippy, fiery frost. It makes an electrifying tingle buzz down his nerves. It makes him want to succumb all the more to her.
His other hand smooths up her lower back, gathering her even closer to him. That sweltering air between them burns even more ardently as their lips lace together, deepening into each other’s warmth. Her fingers wrap his hair in coils around her fingers, making him breathe a delighted hum against her.
That dominant flair of hers stings his mouth, parting his lips, as a swipe of her tongue grazes across him. It’s frantic and fervid. One taste was hardly enough as he melts deeper and deeper into her. Kissing her over and over even as his jaw aches. His heart somersaults past a beat at the warm glide of her brushing up against the inside of his cheek, flicking up the roof of his mouth, and the scrape of that fleshy wet touch wresting around his.
Even as the year comes to an end and that clock strikes midnight, their lips are insatiable, still searching for more. Their mouths connected like magnets, refusing to leave the other. Her arms knot around his neck as one of his hands climbs up her thigh, squeezing.
“You’re slicker than you look.” She pants against his mouth. A gratified smile on her lips.
“You taste even better than you look.” He jokes, leaning in once more to peck her lips. A voltaic fissure splits down his body when she tugs at the back of his neck, bringing him back to her in another kiss. One that lingers, imprinting the shape of her into him like a hot iron branding.
“I guess this new year won’t be so bad.” Regina murmurs, outlining his lips with a graze of her fingertips. Rodrick takes hold of her hand, turning it to him, and kissing her palm.
“I think this year will be whatever you want it to be.” He speaks against her open hand. It makes her smile. A genuine smile. At least as genuine of a smile as he thinks the likes of Regina George can make.
Gently, her fingers wipe at his lips, probably cleaning any smudges of her lipstick off him.
“Don’t.” Rodrick dips his head back, moving away from her hands. “Keep it there. I like it.”
Regina gingerly raises her brow, examining that dopey look of content on his face.
“Weirdo.” She grunts out with a roll of her eyes. His breath solidifies in his throat at the feeling of her shuffling on his lap. Regina scoots over, sliding off his thighs and back onto her feet. Quietly she heads back to the door, grasping the knob in her hand. She spares him one last look behind her slender shoulder. “Happy New Year, loser, and if you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll rip your tongue out.”
“You promise?” He asks, leaning back onto his hands. The taste of her still boiling in his mouth. His eyes take this moment to burn her into memory. Beautiful and threatening. Golden hair in soft whirls that flutter down at her sides, blue eyes pinned back into a glare, and those lips downturned into a firm scowl. “Kidding. Happy New Year, Regina.” Rodrick lifts up the corner of his lips into a half smile. The air of it feels lax and at ease. Even a tad bit blissful.
Regina doesn’t say another word. Rather, she only raises her hand, flipping him off. A contrast to the faint crease curling up at the ends of her mouth. He laughs, a bellowing, hearty sound.
Then she leaves, walking out the door and back out into the party. She fades like a shadow easing away once night begins to fall.
It felt like a goodbye, but that last muted smile that graced her lips spoke of other things. Things he knows he shouldn’t dwell on. Things he knows might only be fantasies he’s projecting. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it’s a new year after all, isn’t it?
The perfect time to try something new.
Or maybe even do something new.