1st POV:

The drive home from school feels endless. Every red light, every slow car in front of me is absolute torture. By the time I pull into the driveway, I barely remember shutting off the engine before rushing inside.

"Mom, I'm home!" I call out, tossing my bag onto the couch.

"In the kitchen, sweetheart!"

I kick off my shoes and head straight for her. She's slicing apples at the counter, but the moment she looks up and sees me, a knowing smile spreads across her face.

"Big night, huh?"

I grin. "You have no idea."

She sets down the knife and leans against the counter. "Well, you better get moving. You've got a lot to do if you want to pull off that zombie fitness instructor look."

I nod, practically sprinting upstairs. My room is exactly how I left it this morning, but my outfit—the outfit—is waiting for me, neatly folded on my bed. The bright neon pink leggings, the high-cut electric blue leotard, and the cropped gray sweatshirt that I had torn at the edges to make it look just distressed enough. The leg warmers match the leggings, and my white sneakers sit beside them, perfectly laced.

Now, for the fun part—the zombie details.

I grab my makeup kit from my desk and rush to the bathroom. Just as I'm about to start, there's a knock on the door.

"Need any help?" Mom peeks inside, and I smirk.

"With turning into a terrifying, undead fitness enthusiast? Always."

She steps in, taking a look at the scattered makeup, fake blood, and liquid latex on the counter. Her eyebrows raise. "Wow. You're really committing."

I grin, tying my hair up into a high ponytail. "Go big or go home."

We work together, layering pale foundation over my skin to give me that sunken, ghostly look. Mom expertly blends dark gray and purple shadows under my eyes, making it seem like I haven't slept in years. Then come the fake wounds—liquid latex applied and peeled just right to create gashes along my cheek and collarbone, a deep "cut" running down my forehead.

I add the fake blood, smearing it just enough to look messy but still cool. The final touch? A ripped sweatband wrapped around my head, completing the full '80s workout-zombie aesthetic.

I turn to the mirror and gasp. "Oh my God. This is perfect."

Mom crosses her arms, nodding in approval. "You officially look terrifying."

I smirk, striking a dramatic pose. "And stylish."

She laughs. "Alright, now for the finishing touch—hairspray."

Before I can react, she grabs the can and starts spraying my ponytail until it's practically standing up on its own. The strong scent of chemicals fills the room, and I cough, waving a hand in front of my face.

"Mom, I said zombie, not suffocated victim."

She just grins. "Beauty is pain."

I glance in the mirror one last time, adjusting my ripped sweatshirt and making sure my "wounds" look realistic. "Okay, I think I'm officially ready."

Mom sighs dramatically. "My baby's all grown up and turning into a horrifying fitness zombie."

I roll my eyes. "It's what every mother dreams of."

We both laugh as I grab my small purse, stuffing my essentials inside. Just as I sling it over my shoulder, I hear footsteps in the hallway.

Dad leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "So, you're telling me this is the final look?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I smirk. "Pretty terrifying, huh?"

He exhales, shaking his head. "Terrifying is one word for it." Then, he pats his jacket pocket. "Alright, kiddo. You ready? I'm your chauffeur for the evening."

I turn to Mom. "Final approval?"

She gives me a once-over, then nods. "Go knock 'em dead, sweetheart."

The night is just getting started.

----

I step outside, the cool evening air hitting my skin as I make my way toward Dad's car. The sky is a deep shade of blue, the last hints of sunlight fading beyond the horizon. The perfect autumn night.

Dad's already at the driver's side, unlocking the doors. He glances at me as I slide into the passenger seat, shaking his head with an amused smile.

"You know, Rosie, back in my day, Halloween costumes were just a cheap mask and whatever we could throw together from the closet," he says, starting the car. "Not... whatever this is."

I smirk, pulling the seatbelt over my shoulder. "Come on, Dad. This is art." I motion toward my perfectly placed fake wounds. "Do you know how much effort it takes to look this undead?"

He chuckles, pulling out of the driveway. "I'll take your word for it."

The drive through town is quiet, the streets glowing under the orange hue of streetlights. Houses are decorated with jack-o'-lanterns and fake cobwebs, and groups of kids dressed as witches, superheroes, and ghosts run across lawns, their candy bags swinging wildly.

I watch them through the window, feeling a familiar warmth in my chest. I used to be one of those kids, sprinting from house to house with a pillowcase full of candy. Now, I'm on my way to a high school dance, dressed as a zombie version of an '80s fitness instructor.

Time flies.

"So," Dad says, breaking the silence. "Big night, huh?"

I glance at him, arching an eyebrow. "It's just a dance."

"Uh-huh," he says knowingly. "And you're just really excited about decorations and punch?"

I roll my eyes. "Okay, maybe I'm looking forward to it."

He grins, keeping his eyes on the road. "You bringing a date?"

I tense for half a second, but I play it cool. "Nope. Going with my friends."

He nods slowly, as if analyzing my answer. "Just making sure. A father's gotta keep an eye on these things."

I scoff. "Please. If I did have a date, you'd be interrogating him in the driveway."

"Damn right," he says without hesitation. "I'd be out there in my robe, coffee in hand, making direct eye contact until he started sweating."

I burst out laughing. "That's so embarrassing."

"That's called being a dad, Rosie."

I shake my head, still laughing. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to scare anyone tonight."

He nods approvingly. "Good. That means I get to relax."

We fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments, the hum of the car filling the space between us. The town passes by, glowing jack-o'-lanterns lining porches, and groups of kids running from door to door.

Then, Dad speaks again, this time softer.

"You know, kiddo, I don't say it enough, but I'm proud of you."

I blink, caught off guard. "Where did that come from?"

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. "I've just been thinking. We moved here not too long ago, and you've handled it all so well. New town, new school, new friends... That's not easy."

I stare at him, the warmth in my chest spreading. "I mean, yeah, it was rough at first. But I think I've figured it out."

"You have," he says, nodding. "And that's why I'm proud of you. You're a good kid, Rosie."

For a second, I don't know what to say. The words sit heavy in my chest, but in a good way. Instead of trying to come up with something clever, I just smile.

"Thanks, Dad."

He reaches over and gives my knee a quick squeeze. "Anytime, kiddo."

A few minutes later, the school comes into view. The parking lot is already filling up with students, the gym lights glowing from the inside. A few people are lingering by the entrance, their costumes on full display as music spills from the doors.

Dad pulls up to the curb, putting the car in park. "Alright, this is your stop."

I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Guess it is."

He watches as I reach for the door handle, then speaks up one more time.

"Have fun tonight, okay? Don't get into too much trouble."

I smirk, pushing the door open. "No promises."

I step out onto the pavement, adjusting my sweatshirt and smoothing out my leggings. Before I shut the door, I lean down, meeting Dad's eyes.

"Thanks for the ride."

He nods. "Anytime, Rosie."

And with that, I turn toward the school, ready for whatever the night has in store.

----

The second I step into the gym, the atmosphere changes. The entire place is transformed—dim lighting, orange and purple streamers hanging from the ceiling, fake cobwebs covering the walls, and a massive pumpkin display near the entrance. The DJ is already playing music, and groups of students are scattered around, chatting, dancing, and showing off their costumes.

I scan the room, looking for my friends. It doesn't take long before I hear a familiar voice call out.

"There she is! Our zombie fitness queen has arrived!"

I turn to see Ali making her way toward me, her white dress flowing slightly as she moves. She's dressed as an angel—well, sort of. There are no wings, and the outfit is a little too cool to be heavenly, but it works for her.

"Ali," I say, pretending to be serious, "you're the only angel I know without wings."

She flips her hair dramatically. "Wings are so predictable. I'm redefining the aesthetic."

Before I can respond, Barbara and Susan join us.

Susan, who is fully committed to her cheetah costume, strikes a pose. "Meow," she says with a grin.

I laugh. "Wow, you're really embracing this."

"You have no idea," Barbara says, adjusting the hat of her magician costume. "She's been making cat puns all night."

Susan shrugs. "I can't help it. It's the purr-fect way to spend Halloween."

Ali groans. "I'm already regretting this."

I shake my head, grinning. "You all look amazing."

Susan motions to me. "And you! Zombie fitness instructor? Iconic."

Susan nods. "Very creative. Ten out of ten."

Ali crosses her arms. "I still think she should've let me do her makeup. I could've made those fake wounds look even better."

I laugh. "Next time, Ali."

We stand there for a moment, taking in the chaos around us. The gym is packed now, students dancing in clusters while others linger near the snack table or take pictures in front of the Halloween decorations. The whole scene is buzzing with excitement.

Then, Ali's eyes suddenly lock onto something—or someone—in the distance.

"Oh. My. God."

We all turn to follow her gaze.

Across the gym, near the entrance, stands a student wearing a very familiar costume. A homemade shower with a curtain wrapped around him.

Ali's expression goes from shock to something softer—almost affectionate.

"Is that Daniel?" Barbara asks, tilting her head.

Ali doesn't answer. She just exhales, shakes her head slightly, and then—without another word—starts walking toward him.

The rest of us exchange glances.

"Well," Susan says, watching as Ali disappears into the crowd, "there she goes."

Barbara smirks. "This should be interesting."

I cross my arms, smiling to myself. Something tells me this night is about to get even more eventful.

----

As Ali disappears into the crowd, Barbara, Susan, and I stay back, watching for a moment.

Barbara leans in. "Okay, place your bets. How long before Ali drags Daniel onto the dance floor?"

Susan smirks. "Two minutes, tops."

I shake my head, laughing. "I give it five. She's gonna pretend to be mad first."

Barbara gasps dramatically. "Oh, true! She loves a dramatic entrance."

Susan crosses her arms. "Honestly, I respect it."

We chat for a little longer, watching students in all kinds of ridiculous costumes pass by. The music changes to something upbeat, and people start moving toward the dance floor.

"Alright," I say, stretching my arms, "I need a drink. You guys want anything?"

Barbara shakes her head. "Nope, but hurry back. If a slow song starts, we're making you dance."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, great. Can't wait."

Turning away from them, I weave through the crowd toward the punch table. The gym is packed now, and the decorations—jack-o'-lanterns, fake cobwebs, glowing ghosts—cast eerie shadows across the walls. The whole place feels electric, buzzing with energy.

As I reach the table, I immediately notice him.

Johnny Lawrence, standing there in his skeleton costume, casually pouring himself a cup of punch like he owns the place.

My heart does a little flip, but I play it cool.

"Wow," I say, stepping up beside him, "who knew the skeleton costume came with VIP access to the punch table?"

He glances over, smirking. "What can I say? People get out of the way when you look this good."

I scoff. "You do know it's just a black suit with bones on it, right?"

Johnny holds a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "Excuse you. This is iconic."

I roll my eyes, reaching for the ladle to pour myself some punch. "Yeah, yeah. You look very intimidating."

"Damn right, I do."

I take a sip of my drink, raising an eyebrow at him. "You really think you're the scariest thing in this room?"

Johnny leans in slightly, voice low. "I don't think, sweetheart. I know."

A shiver runs down my spine—not from fear, obviously. From something else entirely.

I decide to push back. "Oh, please. I've seen scarier things in my mom's Tupperware."

Johnny chuckles. "Alright, that was pretty good."

I shrug. "I try."

He eyes me up and down, taking in my costume. "I gotta say, never thought I'd be into a zombie fitness instructor, but here we are."

I tilt my head. "Are you flirting with me, Lawrence?"

He grins. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

I take another sip of punch, holding his gaze. "I guess that depends."

"On what?"

I smirk. "How good you are at dancing."

Johnny scoffs. "Oh, you don't think I can dance?"

I shrug, teasing. "I know you can fight, but that's different. Footwork and rhythm? Whole other story."

Johnny narrows his eyes playfully. "Alright, zombie girl, now you have to dance with me."

I laugh. "I don't have to do anything."

He steps just a little closer, looking down at me with that cocky smirk. "C'mon, just one dance. You scared?"

I hold his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. "Not even a little."

His smirk widens. "Good."

Before I can say anything else, a new song starts up—something fast and upbeat.

Johnny holds out his hand.

"Let's go, zombie girl."

I hesitate for only half a second before setting my cup down and placing my hand in his.

And just like that, the night gets a whole lot more interesting.

----

Johnny leads me onto the dance floor, his grip on my hand firm but not rough. The gym is packed, students spinning and jumping around in their costumes under the dim, colorful lights. The DJ plays a fast-paced song, the kind that makes it impossible not to move.

Johnny turns to me, smirking. "Alright, Monroe, let's see if you can keep up."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, please. You wish you could keep up with me."

He laughs, and before I know it, we're dancing. It starts off playful—he mimics my moves, exaggerating them to make me laugh. I do a ridiculous aerobic-style arm pump, and he follows, looking absolutely ridiculous.

"You're embarrassing yourself," I tease.

Johnny shrugs. "Nah. I'm making you laugh."

I hate that he's right.

But then, as the song shifts into something more rhythmic, his dancing changes too. He's actually...good. He moves effortlessly, his body in sync with the beat, and suddenly it doesn't feel like we're just messing around anymore.

For a moment, I forget where we are. It's just us, caught in the music, the energy, the pull of something neither of us wants to admit is happening.

Then Johnny leans in. "Be right back, princess. Gotta hit the bathroom."

I roll my eyes. "Wow. Leaving me on the dance floor? Rude."

He smirks. "Don't miss me too much."

With that, he disappears into the crowd.

I shake my head, still smiling as I turn back to the dance floor. Barbara and Susan are a few feet away, dancing and laughing, completely unaware of how my night just shifted.

I don't know how much time passes before it happens.

One second, everything is normal—the music, the flashing lights, the energy. The next, a blur of movement catches my eye.

A figure bursts out of the gym's side hallway.

Daniel.

His shower curtain costume bounces awkwardly as he sprints through the gym, shoving past people in pure panic.

And right behind him—

Johnny.

Soaking. Wet.

My breath catches.

Because, okay—yes, he looks furious, and yes, this is absolute chaos, but—

Oh my god.

Johnny's drenched from head to toe, water dripping from his blond hair, soaking into his black tank top and clinging to his toned arms and chest. The fabric sticks to his body in a way that really shouldn't be legal.

I should not be noticing this.

I should definitely not be noticing this.

But holy shit, he looks—

I don't even finish the thought before the rest of the Cobra Kai guys—Dutch, Tommy, Jimmy and Bobby—barrel after him. They're all charging forward like a pack of wild animals, shoving people out of the way, locked onto Daniel like a heat-seeking missile.

"What the hell—?" Barbara starts, but she doesn't finish.

Because right then, Ali, standing nearby, suddenly grabs something from Daniel's costume—

The shower head.

And just as Johnny lunges forward—she shoves it in his way.

His foot catches.

Johnny stumbles, arms flailing—

And then—

He hits the ground.

Hard.

Johnny groans from the floor, still drenched, humiliated, and furious.

Daniel, realizing his chance, takes off again, disappearing out the gym doors. The Cobra Kai guys scramble to their feet, their egos just as bruised as their bodies. And without hesitation—

They run after him.

Barbara, Susan, and I just stare.

The music is still blasting, people are still dancing, but for us, time might as well have stopped.

Barbara finally breaks the silence. "Did that just—"

Susan nods. "Oh, it definitely did."

I don't say anything.

Because my brain is still stuck on the image of Johnny—furious, wet, and so unfairly attractive.

Barbara turns to me, narrowing her eyes. "Okay, you have that look."

I snap out of it. "What look?"

"The I just saw something I wasn't supposed to like but I totally did look," she says, smirking.

I scoff. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Susan raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because your face says otherwise."

"I—" I start, but I don't even get to finish.

Because suddenly, through the gym doors, I see them.

Johnny and the rest of the Cobra Kai gang—still chasing after Daniel.

My stomach twists.

Oh my god.

I