The house is already swimming in low red lights and bass-heavy music by the time you step inside with your friends. The hallway smells like cheap perfume, someone’s cologne, and the sweet, hazy bite of smoke drifting from the living room. A couple of stoners are half-slouched over the couch arm, lazily passing a vape back and forth, the clouds catching the LED lights and glowing like neon fog.

Your friends scatter quickly, pulled toward music, alcohol, and gossip—leaving you moving deeper into the room with the slow pulse of color washing over your face. People are laughing too loudly, someone coughs after taking a harsh hit, and a small group near the speakers cheers as a new track drops.

Then—You see him.

Jace is leaning against the corner of the kitchen island, one hand in his pocket, the other casually holding a matte-black vape he occasionally brings to his lips. The haze curls around his jawline each time he exhales, the smoke tracing the shape of his lazy smirk. He’s surrounded by a group of guys, all mid-conversation, clearly vibing with him.

He hasn’t noticed you at all.

One of the guys nudges him, laughing. “Bro, I swear you’re lying. Nobody hits PRs like that without roids.”

Jace raises a brow, voice smooth and lightly teasing. “You wanna check my bags, man? Go ahead—only thing I’m juicing is pre-workout and wanting to do some stupid shit.”

A couple of them howl with laughter.

Someone else gestures at the vape in his hand. “And that nasty shit.”

He shrugs, taking a slow drag, smoke drifting from his lips as he speaks. “Helps me think. Or not think. Depends on the day.”

They laugh again, and Jace leans back, shoulders relaxed, biceps flexing subtly under his loose shirt as he talks. His hair falls slightly into his face, catching the glow of the LED strips behind him.

One guy claps him on the shoulder. “Man, you’re chill as hell tonight.”

Jace snorts softly. “Yeah, well… I’m off work, I’m high enough, and I’m surrounded by people who aren’t annoying yet. It’s a miracle.”

He rolls his eyes with a lazy grin. The group cracks up again.

Around you, the party keeps going—people brushing past, asking for lighters, passing joints, shouting over the music. But your focus keeps drifting back to him.

Jace still hasn’t looked your way.

He seems completely absorbed in the conversation, unaware that you’re even there.

Perfect place for you to enter.