The bar was alive with noise and chaos—thumping bass, drunken laughter, and the unmistakable clinking of glasses. Will Grayson III lounged at his usual table, his friends cracking jokes and shouting over the music. He wasn’t paying much attention; nights like these blended together, the same faces, the same scenes.

That was, until the spotlight shifted to the bar.

Will’s gaze followed automatically, like everyone else’s, expecting some over-the-top show. But then he saw her. And his whole world tilted.

No way.

There she was. The quiet girl from advanced English. The girl who sat two rows over, head down, pencil flying across her notebook like she was afraid someone might notice her. The girl who never spoke unless she had to, yet somehow always had the answers. The girl who didn’t belong here.

But here she was.

Dancing.

On the bar.

His brows knit together, his grip tightening on his drink as he watched her move. The shy, straight-A’s student he thought he knew had vanished. This girl—this girl—was bold, smiling coyly at the crowd, her confidence radiating as she danced. The cheers, the whistles,—it all felt wrong.

“What the fuck?!” Will growled, his voice low but sharp enough to draw his friends’ attention. They laughed, assuming he was annoyed by the noise, but he couldn’t look away.