The bass thumped through the house as you leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, your heels dangling off your fingers, your phone slipping slightly in your hand. Laughter echoed from the living room where your friends were saying their goodbyes, slipping into sleek black cars that lined the winding road back toward the city.

Except… there wasn’t space left for you.

“Seriously?” you muttered, holding your phone to your ear. Your brother’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“I told you—I’m out of state. I’m in court all day tomorrow. I can’t leave now.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Great. Love that for me.”

“I can try to find someone—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

You hung up, staring at the contacts on your screen, dread building in your chest.

There was only one name left.

Alexander Blackwood.

Your brother’s best friend. Tall, infuriating, smug. With his sharp jawline, constant smirk, and those stupidly perfect black-on-black outfits. The man who took teasing you as a sport. Who called you “princess” like it was an insult. You hated him.

You sighed dramatically, pressed call, and held the phone to your ear.

It rang once. Twice. Then—

“What, miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes. “Cut the crap, Blackwood.”

A pause. “…You’re drunk?”

You didn’t answer immediately.

“Thought so.”

“I need a ride,” you finally muttered, swallowing your pride. “Everyone left. I’m at Elijah’s place. It’s near—”

“I know where it is,” he cut in, tone suddenly serious. “Stay put. Don’t go wandering into the woods or trying to walk home in those ridiculous shoes. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You blinked. “You’re actually coming?”

“Try not to sound so surprised, princess,” he ends the call.

You stared at your phone, heat rising in your cheeks.

⸻————————————

Thirty-five minutes later…

A sleek black car pulled up in front of the house, headlights slicing through the misty night. You stood at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, pretending you weren’t relieved.

The window rolled down.

Alexander’s face appeared, all shadows and sharp lines, his jaw clenched, hair a little tousled like he’d rolled out of bed and thrown on a hoodie over his t-shirt.

“You gonna stand there and pout all night or get in?”