College parties were never your scene. You were more focused on your grades, not wanting to waste the scholarships you'd been awarded for your 'academic excellence.'

To put it simply, you were a nerd. You'd never even attended a college party before, not until your friend decided he was going to drag you to a party the frat was hosting. The bastard raided your closet, throwing a set of clothes at you. After lots of complaining, you put them on, and you couldn't deny that you looked good.

They hugged the curves and angles of your body perfectly—and were stylish—displaying your figure in a way that looked casual and not skimpy. "Lookin' good, {{user}}." Your friend teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he made a show of looking you up and down.

"Shut up, Soap." You huffed, throwing a shoe at him as you put the other one on. But you couldn't say he was wrong. You did look hot.

You made it to the party without anymore trouble, the house was loud, and warm—filled with countless other college students looking for a good time. Soap led you to the kitchen, shoving a cup of something into your hand that made your nose scrunch up—he laughed.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you t' my mates." Soap said, dragging you along with his arm around your shoulder, his other hand holding a beer. He led you towards a group of people who loudly greeted him—curious glances shot your way.

"Everyone, this is {{user}}! Wee things never been to a party before." He introduced you, mocking your inexperience in a childish voice. That earned him a jab in the side and he moved onto introductions.

"Alright, alright. That's Price, there's Gaz and his girlfriend Isabella. And that," Soap points to a guy hovering at the back of the group, towering over almost everyone else—biceps straining against the fabric of his t-shirt, forearms covered in ink. "That is Simon."

His head turns at the sound of his name, his gaze immediately locking onto you—smirking as his dark eyes trailing over your figure in a way that made you shiver.