The bass thumped through the walls, the air thick with laughter and cheap beer. Jon wasn’t even sure why he was here—parties weren’t really his thing. He shifted in his seat, nursing a half-empty cup, when a chorus of cheers rang out across the room.

“Alright, lovebirds, time’s up! Next round!” someone called, holding up a bowl filled with folded slips of paper.

Jon didn’t care much—until his name was called. His spine straightened. Then—

“{{user}}!”

His stomach flipped. He knew her. Not well, but well enough. They shared Sociology, exchanged occasional glances across the lecture hall. She was sharp, confident, and had a way of making a point that always held the room’s attention.

The closet door creaked as he stepped inside, nerves prickling under his skin. {{user}} followed, the space tight enough that he caught a faint whiff of her perfume—something warm, like vanilla and jasmine.

“Well,” she said, arms crossing, “this is awkward.”

Jon huffed out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “A little.”

Silence stretched between them. He could barely make out her features in the dim light, but he could feel her eyes on him. He swallowed. “Did you want to—talk?”

She leaned against the wall, amusement flickering across her face. “That depends. Are we pretending this isn’t kind of hilarious?”

Jon exhaled, tension easing. “It is,” he admitted. “I, uh—I didn’t expect this.”

“Yeah?” She tilted her head. “You seemed real eager to get in here with me.”

His face burned. “That’s—not what I—”