Chapter 1
The classroom erupted into a cacophony of chatter from all the uncaring young adults, effortlessly drowning out the voice of a tired professor who had probably given up trying. Sharp laughter, loud whispers, and the scent of strawberry-flavored vape—passed around relentlessly—filled the room, creating an almost tangible haze that made it harder to see what was written on the board.
The vape landed on a blonde boy with hooded eyes, his cheeks hollowing as he inhaled the chemicals. The smoke went down the wrong pipe, making him cough violently, saliva flying everywhere. The young woman next to him shot him a disgusted look. He flashed her an apologetic smile before handing her the vape.
“Sorry, Rose. Here, your turn,” he said.
Rose reluctantly accepted it, holding it between her thumb and index finger, her pinky raised. She then pulled a wet wipe from her purse, feverishly cleaning the abused pink vape.
“Don’t fucking cough on my vape, asshole,” she snarled, then took a puff. She leaned her head back against the chair, letting the chemicals take effect. “God, this is the best,” she muttered under her breath, the smoke still brushing against her lips.
“You always bring good vapes, Rose. You laced it yourself?” the ginger boy next to the blonde boy asked. Rose looked at him with a grin. “I know my stuff, bro. You’re lucky I share it with you assholes.”
Her group of friends, all three guys with questionable senses of humor, burst out laughing. Their loud voices blended with the crowd. Rose chuckled, her eyes wandering to every corner of the room as she took in the classroom’s lawlessness.
Then her eyes landed on a brunette girl, nose-deep in her computer, typing faster than lightning as she listened to the professor’s murmurs.
Rose smirked and took a slow drag. “Damn. Girl’s a real nerd,” she said. Rose picked up her phone and typed out a message. A moment later, the brunette paused, distracted by a ping. Rose watched as the girl read the message, then glanced up and grinned in her direction.
Rose smiled back and mouthed, “Bitch. Wanna smoke?” Then, with a slow flourish, she dangled her pink vape. The brunette glanced around, eyes darting to the bored faces in the room, then to the professor, who was still droning on, oblivious.
She flicked her gaze to her laptop, tapped something on the keyboard, and finally locked eyes with Rose. With a devious grin, she flashed an OK sign, then, just as quickly, flipped Rose the bird under the desk.
Rose stifled a laugh, biting her lip to keep from bursting out loud, and raised her vape in a mock salute.
Several excruciating moments later, the lecture finally ended. Nobody even noticed the professor slip out. Rose sauntered over to the brunette, eyebrows dancing as she held out the vape.
“Come on, Alessia. I know you want momma’s vape,” she teased.
Alessia snatched the pink device from Rose’s hand, bringing it to her lips as they slipped out of the classroom.
“God, Rose Vanesio. My dad is going to kill me when he finds out I’m getting high,” she said, playfully hitting Rose on the shoulder. Rose dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand.
“Then I’ll tell your dad I made you do it. You know, take the blame,” Rose said casually, hands in her pockets.
Alessia groaned, taking another slow drag—smoke coming out as she made exaggerated whining noises.
“Babe, you know our families are, like, beefing with each other, right? He knows my bestie is a Vanesio. He almost killed me with his look when I told him.”
Rose scoffed. “Who the fuck cares? Their problems aren’t our problems. Those old coots shouldn’t expect us to carry on their drama.”
Then, as if on cue, Alessia’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with her dad’s name. She stared at it, thumb hovering over decline.
“Ugh, speaking of the devil,” she groaned.
Rose nudged her. “Don’t let him ruin your day.”
Alessia managed a weak smile. “Easy for you to say. He’s convinced you’re some kind of bad influence.”
Rose grinned, unbothered, nodding her head lightly. “Well, he’s not wrong.”
For a moment, the bravado faded, and Alessia’s voice grew soft. “What if they do manage to split us up?”
Rose reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Not happening. We’re not them, remember?”
Alessia smiled, then reluctantly pressed the answer button.
“Hello, Dad—” she began, but was immediately cut off by a deep voice from the phone’s speaker. Rose could make out the rapid-fire Italian on the other end, the words almost shouted—just enough for her to catch the tone, if not the meaning.
“Papà, dai, calmati,” Alessia said, her fingers pinching the air in exasperation. “I’ll be home tonight, yes,” she added, now pinching the bridge of her nose.
A few moments later, Alessia spoke again. “Yes, papà, I won’t invite Rose over.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Alessia crossed her fingers and stuck out her tongue in that exaggerated, silly way people do when they’re telling a fib—making Rose snort.
Alessia stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she nodded along to her dad’s rant on the other end of the line.
“Yes, Dad, I love you too. See you soon,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere.
She hung up with a heavy sigh, her gaze drifting to Rose. For a moment, they just stared at each other—then both burst into giggles.
“So… how mad is your dad?” Rose asked, shaking her head.
Alessia rolled her eyes. “Super mad. He wants me home early, but he’s not even going to be there tonight.”
Rose’s eyes lit up, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Then you should definitely invite me over. I’ll raid Luciano’s stash—he’s got loads of booze hidden in the basement.”
Alessia nudged Rose with her elbow. “Babe, don’t be like that,” she teased, making Rose pout.
“What? He stole from my own stash last night! I caught him raiding the fridge at 3 AM. So I went straight to check my dresser. My brownies were gone.” Rose protested.
Alessia snorted, giving Rose’s shoulder a light smack. “Dummy. I just mean, don’t swipe from the shipment—stick to his personal stash, and you’re golden.”
Both girls burst out laughing. “That’s why you’re my partner in crime, babe,” Rose grinned.
Their laughter still hung in the air as they strolled down the hall, voices dropping to a whisper.
“We’ll need a code word,” Rose mused. “In case Luciano comes downstairs.”
Alessia smirked. “How about ‘eggplant’? No one takes you seriously if you yell ‘eggplant’ in a crisis.”
Rose snorted. “That’s exactly why it’s perfect.”
They pushed through the heavy doors into the fading afternoon light, the buzz of the day swirling around them. Alessia’s phone buzzed again, but she ignored it, linking arms with Rose as they walked, the details of their plan still up in the air.
“I’m so freaking excited for our sleepover—getting high and drunk. This is peak college experience, babe!” Alessia squealed, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Me too, especially since your dad won’t be around to glare at me until I leave,” Rose laughed. “Though, to be honest, I’ve never actually seen your dad. I hardly ever come over.”
Alessia shrugged. “He’s just another old dude with a permanent scowl. Seriously, don’t even worry about it—he’s an old fart.”
“How old is he, anyway? Is your dad actually that old?”
“Well, he’s thirty-three. Had me when he was a teenager. Dude was a total slut.” Alessia grinned, earning a playful smack on the cheek from Rose.
“Don’t say that, babe. Your dad obviously loves you,” Rose said, shaking her head with a smile.
“Alright, so your dad’s an ex-slut and a current grump. Noted. Are we going full chaos mode tonight or keeping it classy with boxed wine and microwave popcorn?”
Alessia snorted. “Babe, I already bought three bags of spicy chips and found a bottle of—well, I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely alcoholic.”
Rose cackled. “Perfect. All we need now is bad music and our best stories. Oh, and maybe a plan for if Luciano catches us in the basement in my house.”
Alessia waggled her eyebrows. “Simple: we blame it on the ghost.”
They both burst out laughing, already feeling the thrill of the night ahead.
The Vanesio estate loomed ahead, all elegant stone and wrought-iron gates. Rose led the way, Alessia trailing just a step behind, nerves and excitement twisting in her stomach.
Inside, the marble foyer was cool and echoing. Luciano was already there, leaning against the banister with his usual unreadable expression. As the girls entered, he straightened up.
“Varriale,” he said, his voice smooth as he gave Alessia a single, polite nod.
Alessia mirrored the gesture, tamping down a smirk. “Luciano.”
Rose barely paused, grabbing Alessia’s wrist and tugging her down the hallway. “Come on,” she whispered, mischief lighting up her eyes. “We’ve got a mission.”
She stopped at a heavy wooden door—the entrance to the infamous basement. “You’re on lookout,” Rose instructed, pressing her phone into Alessia’s hand. “Text me if anyone comes this way or yell ‘eggplant’ as we planned. Especially him.”
Alessia posted up by the door, heart thumping, pretending to check her messages while keeping a sharp ear out for footsteps.
Rose slipped inside, the air turning cooler and tinged with the faint scent of old spirits. She crept past crates and dusty shelves, eyes scanning for Luciano’s stash. Her fingers brushed over a row of bottles—jackpot.
Just as her hand closed around a particularly promising bottle, a floorboard creaked upstairs. She froze, pulse racing, and shot a glance at her phone, waiting for Alessia’s warning.
From the hallway, Alessia’s voice came—loud, forced, and a little too cheerful. “So, Luciano, what do you do for fun around here?”
Luciano, to Alessia’s surprise, actually started answering her question but was abruptly cut off when Alessia shouted, “EGGPLANT!”
A long, awkward silence stretched between them. Then Luciano’s voice rang out, utterly baffled, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Rose, jolted by the code word, grabbed the nearest bottle, only to knock over a dusty crate. The crash echoed up the stairs.
Alessia winced. Luciano’s eyes narrowed. “Was that—did you hear something?”
Alessia forced a wide smile. “Uh, the pipes in this house are always making weird noises. Right? Old houses, you know?”
Luciano didn’t look convinced. He started toward the basement, and Alessia scrambled to block his way, launching into a wild story about haunted wine cellars and cursed bottles.
Down below, Rose held her breath, heart pounding as footsteps creaked above her head, hoping Alessia’s improv skills were enough to save them both.
Luciano came to a stop at the top of the basement stairs, eyeing Alessia with mounting suspicion. “Haunted wine cellars?” he repeated flatly.
Alessia nodded, putting on her most serious face. “Yeah, for real. It’s giving super cursed vibes down there. Like, last time the energy was so off, I legit thought we were about to get jump-scared IRL—”
Luciano cut her off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alessia. Speak English.”
She blinked at him, then grinned cheekily. “Sorry, just tryna keep it a hundred, Luciano.”
He gave her a long, unimpressed look. Down in the gloom, Rose crouched behind a stack of crates, struggling not to snort with laughter.
Luciano glanced toward the stairs, clearly debating whether to investigate. Alessia jumped in, “No cap, if you go down there, you’ll totally mess with the vibes. My nonna said the spirits get pressed if you don’t show respect.”
Luciano shook his head, muttering, “You two are so weird,” but finally turned away. “Just don’t break anything, okay?”
As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Rose emerged, dust in her hair and triumph in her eyes. She waved the bottle at Alessia. “Operation Eggplant: successful.”
Alessia snickered, grabbing Rose’s hand as they made a beeline for the door, stifling their laughter as they slipped out into the cool night air.
Alessia’s room was a riot of color and chaos—string lights tangled above the bed, posters of bands and vintage movies covering every inch of the walls, and a pile of mismatched pillows spilling onto the floor. Makeup palettes, notebooks, and half-finished sketches littered her desk. A faint, sweet haze of vape clung to the air, mixing with the scent of cheap perfume and spiced snacks.
The girls sprawled across the bed, bottles of booze in hand, vapes glowing between their fingers. Giggling, they replayed the night’s chaos in the warm safety of Alessia’s sanctuary.
Rose took a swig from her bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Dude, I still can’t believe you hit Luciano with ‘It’s giving super cursed vibes’ and ‘no cap.’ Even I didn’t catch half of what you said!”
Alessia grinned, unbothered. “He needed to hear the truth in my language. Can’t help it if he’s not on the vibe.”
Rose burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Girl, I’ve known you forever and even I need subtitles sometimes.”
They both dissolved into giggles again, the tension from earlier melting away. After a moment, Rose’s expression softened. She glanced over at Alessia, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
“So… what’s the deal with your dad, anyway?” she asked, her tone gentle. “You always joke about him, but you never really talk about what he’s like.”
Alessia spun her vape between her fingers, considering. “He’s… complicated,” she began, her voice quieter than before.
Rose furrowed her brow, taking a long swig of her beer. “What do you mean? I’d really like to know, but you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable, babe.”
Alessia exhaled a slow stream of vapor, pausing before she spoke. “My dad’s super strict. He’s always telling me not to do this, not to do that—sometimes it just feels… suffocating.”
Rose nodded, her gaze soft. “No wonder you turned out like this. He created a menace.” She grinned, dodging Alessia’s playful smack.
“But honestly,” Alessia continued, a fond smile tugging at her lips, “he has this really sweet side, too. Whenever we fight, he’ll bring me little gifts with handwritten notes. Or he’ll make breakfast for me, sit down, and actually ask about me. Although he’ll still ask me to speak English, just like Luciano.”
Both girls chuckled, raising their drinks before taking another sip and a lazy drag from their vapes.
They glanced around and noticed that the haze in the room was thickening. Rose stood up, muttering a string of curses under her breath as she cranked the window open.
“Good call, babe. We definitely don’t want my dad smelling anything weird,” Alessia said.
Rose smirked, popping open another beer. “I’m a Vanesio—it’s in my blood to think ahead.”
Alessia laughed. “You’re so proud of your family, babe. But I’m a Varriale, so I’m actually smarter.”
“Nah, Vanesios are smarter. And richer, too,” Rose shot back, grinning.
Alessia scoffed. “Be for real, babe. We’re the rich ones.”
“Nope. Vanesio.”
“Nope, Varriale.”
“Nuh-uh, Varriale.”
“Nope, Vanesio—” Alessia stopped mid-sentence, realizing Rose had suckered her into the back-and-forth. She stared at her friend, eyes wide with mock outrage. “You bitch! You tricked me!”
Rose burst out laughing, dodging Alessia’s playful pinch. She took a victorious sip of beer and reached for the stolen bottle of wine. “See? That just proves Vanesios are smarter.”
Alessia rolled her eyes. “You mean you guys are just dicks?”
Rose shrugged, smirking. “Exactly, babe. We are.”
Then, Rose froze, head snapping toward the door as a faint, muffled sound drifted in. Her brows knitted in suspicion, eyes catching the sliver of light beneath the door—where a shadow flickered and disappeared.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
Alessia glanced over, brow raised in confusion. “Hear what?”
“I swear I heard someone. Are we actually alone?” Rose’s voice was laced with concern.
Alessia just shrugged, sinking deeper into her pillows and clutching the wine bottle to her chest. “Probably just the old fart’s bodyguards. Don’t sweat it.”
Rose glanced over at Alessia, who was already drifting off, eyelids heavy. Shaking her head, Rose tutted in mock disapproval. “Fucking lightweight. Out cold and drunk as a skunk,” she whispered.
She pulled her vape from her pocket and settled beside her sleeping friend. Giving Alessia a gentle shake to check if she was still conscious, Rose got no response. Smirking, she carefully pried the bottle from Alessia’s grasp.
A few minutes later, Rose polished off the last of the wine. She reached for the next bottle—vodka, courtesy of Alessia’s sticky fingers. “Jackpot,” she muttered, taking a long swig like it was water.
The burn hit her throat hard. She yanked the bottle away, coughing violently. “Fuck,” she managed to choke out between fits of coughing.
As Rose tilted the bottle for another swig, her grip slipped, and vodka splashed cold across her jeans. She hissed, staring at the spreading stain. “Great, just fucking great,” she muttered.
She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a rumpled skirt and a black crop top. Why not? she thought, peeling off her wet clothes and changing right there in the half-lit room. She swapped her shirt for the crop top too—might as well go all in if she was making wardrobe choices while drunk.
Feeling the alcohol buzz in her veins, Rose glanced at sleeping Alessia. Mischief flickered in her eyes. She grabbed her drink, stuffed her vape and a half-finished joint into the band of her underwear, and slipped quietly out the door.
The hallway was dim and unfamiliar, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Rose wandered, curiosity fueled by liquid courage, peeking into rooms—most empty, some cluttered with boxes or old clothes. She paused, swaying a little, letting the vodka guide her.
At the end of the hall, a door stood slightly ajar. Light spilled out in a thin, inviting line. Rose hesitated for only a split second, then pushed it open, stepping into the unknown.
