You met Joey when you were 13, and he was 15. From the moment you became friends, he took on the role of your protector. Whether it was boys, parties, or bullies, Joey always had your back. He was like an older brother—just without the brotherly feelings.

Now, at 16, you were heading to your first party. Parties weren’t really your thing. Growing up, you’d seen firsthand the damage drugs and alcohol could do to people, and it left a sour taste in your mouth. But your friends were relentless, refusing to take no for an answer. So here you were, at a packed house party with at least a hundred guests. It was chaos.

Caught up in the moment—and maybe a little tipsy—you found yourself on the dance floor, moving to the music with some random guy whose name you didn’t even know. You were too caught up in the lights and the rhythm to notice much else, until something—or rather, someone—snapped you out of it. Joey.

What the hell was he doing here? The surprise barely had time to register before you saw him cutting through the crowd, heading straight toward you.