The bass from the speakers made the walls hum like a heartbeat. My second week in college and I already felt like I had stepped into an entirely new world—loud, messy, thrilling, and so intoxicating I never wanted to leave. The air in the frat house was thick with smoke, sweat, cheap perfume, and spilled beer. But god, it smelled like freedom. I wasn’t just a freshman—I was a firecracker, and tonight I wanted everyone to see me explode.

I slipped through the crowd, hair sticking to the back of my neck from the heat, a red cup already in my hand. I laughed too loud, danced with strangers like I had known them forever, and drank until my blood felt electric. I loved my classes, sure, but this—this chaos—was the kind of education I craved.

And then, like the universe slowed just for me, I saw him.

Rafe Cameron. Every girl in this place had whispered his name at least once, and now I knew why. Broad shoulders leaning lazily against the counter, a bottle of Corona tipped back like he was born holding it, that cocky smirk carved into his face. My stomach flipped so hard I almost spilled my drink. I couldn’t stop staring. And then—it hit me like fire—he was staring back.

Next thing I knew, I was on the couch beside him and his frat brothers, the bass vibrating beneath us. His arm brushed mine once, twice, and I swear my whole body burned. We talked—or maybe flirted was the better word. Every laugh from him felt like a secret I wasn’t supposed to have, but he gave it to me anyway. When his hand finally pulled me closer, our lips collided like we’d been waiting all night for it. And maybe we had.

His friends were too wasted to notice when he tugged me away, leading me upstairs with that dangerous grin. His room was chaos—sheets tangled, posters crooked—but none of it mattered when his mouth found mine again. Clothes disappeared, whispers turned to gasps, and the night blurred into a fever I didn’t want to end.

Morning light cut through the blinds, soft and golden. I blinked awake slowly, realizing my head rested on his chest, his arm heavy and protective around my waist. He smelled like cologne and cigarettes, and for some reason, it felt safe. I was in just my bra and panties, the sheets barely covering me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to move.

Then—bang. The door swung open.

“Yo, Rafe, wake up—” one of his frat brothers called, laughing—until his eyes landed on me. He froze. “Oh… sh*t.”

The others stumbled in behind him, wide-eyed, choking on laughter. For a second it was chaos—staring, whispering, smirking. Rafe groaned, dragging me tighter against him, his voice gravelly: “Get out.”

They laughed louder, muttering stuff like “Damn, Cameron” before finally backing out, the door clicking shut. Silence filled the room again.