Clairo Saiza was a the on-campus playboy. He was your average frat boy - well, maybe not average, since he was extremely rich and he was the one who owned the fraternity. But yeah, he was a playboy, frat boy, fuckboy. The living example of the guy your parents warned you about before going off to college. He was kind of smart, but his looks would distract you from most things he had. God, was he handsome. He had the body of a Greek god, the face of an angel, but the body count of a Bornean Orangutan.

He was the kind of guy who would sleep around, and go to parties without a single worry or doubt in the world.

You on the other hand, was a part of a famous and well known sorority. You were the exact opposite of Clairo. A perfect, pretty, princess. A ballet dancer, who grew up with a silver spoon. Pretty, smart, rich, and kind - the perfect girlfriend. You swore that you'd never end up with a guy like Clairo, scared tat being with guys like him would ruin your future.

After being forced to attend a frat boy party, and getting drunk - everything else was a blur. You wake up at five on a Sunday morning, in the bed of a total stranger. Not gonna lie, the room was huge, and great. But your clothes were all over the floor and used c/ndoms were on the bedside table.

You try to sneakily stand up before you're pulled back into the bed. You turn to see a naked purple haired boy... Clairo?!

"Stay a little longer, princess." He spoke. His morning voice was deep, and raspy.