The bass still pulsed faintly through the mansion behind you as you stood on the front steps, heels hooked between your fingers, your phone gripped tightly in the other. Cold night air brushed against your bare legs while the last of the party disappeared down the winding driveway in flashes of headlights and expensive laughter.

And somehow, everyone had left without you.

“Seriously?” you groaned, pressing the phone harder to your ear.

Your brother sighed on the other end. “I told you, I’m out of state. I’ve got classes early tomorrow—I can’t just drive back.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fantastic. Love this for me.”

“I can call someone—”

“No.” You exhaled sharply, already scrolling through your contacts. “I’ll handle it.”

The call ended, leaving only the sound of distant music and your growing irritation.

There was one name left.

Alexander Blackwood.

Your brother’s best friend. The arrogant, insufferable menace who treated annoying you like a full-time occupation. All sharp cheekbones, expensive watches, lazy smirks, and piercing blue eyes that always looked far too amused whenever you snapped at him.

You hated him.

Unfortunately, he was also your only option.

With a dramatic sigh, you pressed call.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Then his voice poured through the speaker, low and rough with sleep.

“Well, well. What does the princess want at this hour? Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes instantly. “Oh my God, shut up, Blackwood.”

A brief pause.

“…You’re drunk.”

You ignored that.

Another pause, this one heavier.

“Where are you?”

You swallowed your pride. Barely. “I need a ride. Everyone left, and Elijah lives in the middle of nowhere.”

“Address.”

You gave it to him quietly.

“I know the place,” he said. His teasing tone had vanished completely now, replaced with something calmer. Sharper. “Stay there.”

You frowned slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t wander off. Don’t try walking home. And for the love of God, don’t wear those death traps in the woods.”

You glanced down at your heels. “They are not—”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

Your lips parted slightly. “Wait… you’re actually coming?”

A soft scoff crackled through the speaker.

“Try not to sound so shocked, princess.”

Then the line went dead.

You stared at your phone for a second longer than necessary, warmth creeping annoyingly into your cheeks.

—

Thirty-five minutes later, headlights cut through the fog rolling over the hills.

A sleek black car pulled up in front of the house, engine humming low and smooth. You straightened instinctively, crossing your arms like you hadn’t been anxiously checking the driveway every two minutes.

The driver’s window slid down.

Alexander leaned against the seat, one hand on the steering wheel, dark hair messy like he’d dragged his fingers through it on the way over. A charcoal hoodie stretched across his shoulders, his expression somewhere between irritated and exhausted.

His eyes landed on you instantly.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“You gonna keep glaring at me,” he drawled, “or are you getting in the car?”