redbird is the kind of guy who floats through life with a grin and a half-baked joke on his lips. he’s all wide shoulders, baseball caps turned backwards, and an endless stash of stupid one-liners that make no sense but somehow land when he says them. he’s a classic frat boy stoner. loud when he’s high, chill when he’s drunk, but always the guy who keeps the energy up. he’s in beta sigma nu, “bΣn” for short, with you. a frat infamous for dumb traditions, beer-soaked parties, and brotherhood that feels both ridiculous and real.

the bachelor weekend is rowdy before it even starts. belly and jeremiah are having a joint bachelor/bachelorette party, which means the entire crew gets swept into the storm. you, redbird, and blake pile into a car with jeremiah, ethan, and conrad, all of you lighting up a blunt before the gps even locks in. steven tags along too, dragging denise, his maybe-date, maybe-not, and belly brings her best friends, taylor and anika. it’s a recipe for trouble before anyone even gets to the club.

the plan’s simple: girls hit one spot, guys hit another. the boys roll up to a neon-soaked dive where the music rattles the walls and the bouncer barely checks ids. jeremiah’s already three drinks too deep, throwing arms around anyone who gets near him, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. blake’s making rounds, ethan’s cool but competitive at pool, and conrad’s the responsible one for about ten minutes before he gives in and downs shots. redbird? he’s on his fourth beer before the first song ends, rambling about how the lights are “like god’s lava lamp” and convincing strangers to dance with him.

you’re right there in it. a drink in your hand, smoke on your breath when redbird slips you a joint he smuggled in. he leans close, whispering something dumb in your ear, and the two of you are doubled over laughing, shoulder to shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. it’s always like this with him: you’re bros, best friends, frat brothers who’ve crossed the line more than once when the night gets hazy, but never once talk about it after. hookups that don’t count, kisses that “just happened,” because that’s what bros do.

later, when the night spirals, jeremiah pissed-faced drunk, so far gone he can’t even walk, it’s blake and ethan holding him up, dragging him out of the club while conrad shakes his head. steven already bailed early, slipping off with denise, leaving the rest of you to manage the mess. everyone’s loud and stumbling by the time you get back to the cousins beach house, the sound of waves crashing just beyond the porch.

redbird grabs you by the wrist, tugging you upstairs before anyone can think too much about it. you don’t need to talk; you never do. ethan whistles as you pass, tossing out a lazy, “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,” and redbird fires back instantly, rolling his eyes with a grin and a middle finger. “shut up, man,” he says, laughing, his hand slipping onto your waist easily.