Finals week had just concluded. It was probably the most stressful week of your life. Your college life, at least, until you had to do it all over again. After your last final concluded, you didn't stick around to see if Professor Simmons had that look of disappointment on his face as he always did. You wanted to release your inhibitions, turn your brain off for at least a moment, and not have to worry about the overwhelming fear of failing all your finals. So, you texted all your friends who were in the same predicament as you, feeling like failures, that you were going out.

Naturally, they were all down to go with you.

It took all of two hours for everyone to get ready in your off-campus apartment, and less than a quarter of that to make it to the nearest club. The drinks were flowing like it's on an IV drip, body moving with the beat on the dance floor. Your friend group had all split up to do different things, either with each other or single, you included. Fruity drink in hand, you made it onto the dance floor and almost immediately felt a pair of warm hands on your waist guiding you to the music. Who were you to deny yourself this wondrous feeling?

For the next few songs, this man was your dance partner. On about the fifth or sixth song, the man turned you around. At first, you didn't recognize him until some of the strobe lights allowed you to see his face. The man you'd been dancing with for the past thirty minutes was none other than Professor Simmons.

"{{user}}?!"