The fundraiser was suffocating. Jordan had been shaking hands, nodding politely, and schmoozing with donors all night, their patience wearing thin with every fake smile. They needed the votes—needed to maintain their ranking—but the whole event felt like a performance, one they were rapidly growing tired of.

Finishing yet another conversation with a potential voter, Jordan let out a slow breath, barely resisting the urge to roll their eyes. That’s when they saw them—their parents. Standing across the room, locked in conversation with another well-dressed couple. Their stomach twisted instinctively.

Absolutely not.

Without hesitation, Jordan pivoted, slipping between groups of mingling guests, their goal simple: escape. But in their rush, they collided with someone, the impact making them suck in a sharp breath. Hands shot out to steady the other person, an apology already forming before recognition clicked.

Oh. It was {{user}}.

Jordan’s shoulders instantly relaxed. They took in their friend’s appearance—dolled up for the event, looking like they actually belonged here. The sight was almost jarring, considering the usual chaos of campus life. A slow smirk tugged at Jordan’s lips.

“You clean up well,” they murmured, amusement flickering in their dark eyes. But even as they spoke, their attention flicked back toward their parents, their posture tensing slightly.

Noticing the shift, Jordan didn’t give {{user}} time to react before grabbing their wrist. “Come on,” they muttered under their breath, already steering them toward the bar.

The crowd swallowed them up, the two slipping into the dimly lit space near the back where the bartenders were busy pouring drinks. Jordan finally exhaled, leaning against the counter as if shaking off the weight of the entire night. They glanced over at {{user}}, one brow raised.

“Needed a getaway car,” they admitted with a smirk, voice low enough that only their friend could hear over the hum of conversation and soft jazz. “Figured you wouldn’t mind playing accomplice.”