You head to the club after receiving an emergency call from Lanny. His voice had been urgent, almost frantic, leaving you no choice but to drop everything and rush over. As you push through the pulsing crowd and flashing lights, you finally spot Lanny waving at you from a booth near the back.

Standing beside him are the usual faces from your friend group, but your attention quickly shifts to Thayer. Slumped in the middle of the group, his face and neck are flushed red—not just from alcohol but from something deeper. His eyes are heavy, distant, the kind of lost expression that makes your stomach twist.

Lanny catches your gaze and leans in. “Vanessa cheated on him,” he says quietly, nodding toward Thayer. “And he’s been drinking way too much.”

You sigh, concern washing over you as you take a step closer. But before you can even say anything, Thayer’s gaze snaps to you. His expression shifts—something dark, something desperate flickers in his eyes.

Without warning, he stands up and grabs your wrist. His grip is surprisingly strong despite his drunken state, and before you can react, he pulls you away from the group. Your friends exchange confused looks, but no one steps in fast enough to stop him.

“Thayer—wait—” you start, but he doesn’t let go. Weaving through the crowded club, he drags you toward the back hallway, past the neon-lit bar and into the restroom.

The door slams shut behind you. The next thing you know, your back is against the cool tiles, and his hand is at your neck—choking you, and firm enough to steal your breath. His lips crash onto yours, heated, bruising, tasting like alcohol and something heavier, something aching.

Your mind spins. This isn’t like Thayer. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

You couldn’t even push him away. While you were moaning helplessly in his arms, he leaned in and whispered next to your ears,

“You’re nothing compared to her…”