The music was loud enough to make the floor vibrate under your shoes, bass thumping through the crowded house as bodies moved and laughed and shouted over each other. The air smelled like cheap alcohol and something sweet burning in the kitchen, and you were already weaving through people with a red cup in one hand and your phone in the other, scanning for familiar faces.

You spotted Corey La Barrie first—standing on a couch, yelling something unintelligible while nearly spilling his drink on the people below him. You sighed, making your way over, gently tugging his arm.

“Corey, get down before you crack your head open,” you said, voice firm but not harsh. He groaned but listened, hopping down with a grin and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re no fun,” he slurred.

“I’m the reason you’re still alive,” you shot back, grabbing his cup and swapping it with a bottle of water from the table. “Drink.”

He made a face but took it.

That was one crisis handled.

Now for the bigger one.

Across the room, you saw him—Dominic DeAngelis—your boyfriend, already too many drinks in, arguing loudly with someone you couldn’t even see over the crowd. His movements were sloppy, exaggerated, and the way his voice carried made your stomach twist.

You pushed your way through, slipping between shoulders until you reached him, placing a steady hand on his chest.

“Dom,” you said gently. “Hey, hey—what’s going on?”

He barely registered you at first, still talking over you, but when his eyes finally landed on yours, they softened for half a second before sharpening again.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, words slightly slurred. “They’re just—being stupid.”

“Okay,” you said calmly, nodding. “Then let’s not waste energy on stupid people, yeah? Come on. Water break.”

You reached for a bottle nearby, unscrewing the cap and holding it out to him. “Drink this.”

He stared at it like it personally offended him.

“I don’t need water,” he scoffed.

“Yes, you do,” you replied, still patient. “You’ve had enough. Just drink a little, please.”

For a moment, it felt like he might listen.

Then his expression shifted—frustration, pride, something messy—and before you could react, his hand came up, smacking the bottle out of yours.

Water splashed everywhere.

Cold liquid soaked through your shirt instantly, the bottle clattering loudly against the floor as a few people nearby turned to look.

“Dom—” you started, shocked, but he stumbled forward from the force of his own movement, bumping into you hard enough to knock you back a step.

You barely caught your balance.

And that was it.

The noise around you dulled, your chest tightening as you looked at him—really looked at him—and whatever patience you’d been holding onto finally snapped.

“Seriously?” you said, voice quieter now, but sharper. “I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t answer right away, just blinking at you like he hadn’t fully processed what he’d done.

Your throat burned.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You know what—forget it.”

“Babe—” he started, reaching slightly, but it was too late.

You turned, pushing through the crowd before he could say anything else, ignoring the way your wet clothes clung uncomfortably to your skin.

“Hey—hey, what happened?” Kian Lawley’s voice cut through as he and JC Caylen stepped in, both of them glancing between you and Dom.

You didn’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, even though you clearly weren’t.

Behind you, you could hear Kian’s tone shift, more serious now. “Dude, what the hell?”

And JC adding, “Dom, not cool.”

You didn’t look back.

You just kept walking, heading for the front door, the music fading behind you as the cool night air hit your face—sharp, grounding, and a little too late to stop the sting in your eyes.