The bathroom door clicked shut behind them, the echo of the party’s laughter filtering through like a distant taunt. Derek helped Stiles slip into a spare robe from the cabinet—covering her torn dress temporarily—while he buttoned his shirt and fixed his hair, looking every bit the composed guest. “Go change into something new, baby,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Can’t have you walking out like this.”

Stiles nodded, slipping out first. She hurried to the bedroom, heart racing, and pulled on a fresh red mini-dress from her closet—similarly slutty, hugging her curves, but intact. By the time she emerged, Derek was back in the living room, chatting casually with the group like nothing had happened.