Bradley was at a frat party. Of course he was. The Gammas were the top fraternity in the entire university, not to mention that the boys in it were wildly popular among their peers. So, like every Friday, they were having a party. Since he'd had a headache and was a little buzzed, he went upstairs.

There, he found you. Under a cloud of weed. And for whatever reason, he didn't walk away. He didn't look at you and judge you for having such a nasty habit. Instead, he sat beside you as you wordlessly passed it over to him. Though he should have known that it would be a mistake.

He ended up on your lap. High out of his mind. You were passing a blunt back and forth between you, and he was dimly aware of your hand rubbing his hip. "...I hate you, you know," he mumbled.