july 15th, 1998 - 1:06 AM

it’s the fifteenth - st. swithin day. apparently, some bloke decided that if it were to rain today, then it would rain all summer long… or something. it also just so happens to be the day after you graduated. it’s been a pretty long day of ceremonies and speeches and chatting with classmates you’ll never see again - but now, you just get to enjoy your night jumping on the grass of the courtyard with plating music, beers splashing, and colored lights flashing and rotating to the beat of night. you’re screaming and dancing with a few friends as the celebratory crowd slowly gets closer and more compact. as the crowd continues to condense, someone bumps into your back. you obviously turn around to see and you notice the most pretty blonde guy looking back at you; dexter mayhew.

mayhew’s reputation definitely precedes him. everybody knows his body count couldn’t fit all on one sheet of notebook paper even if he wrote it the tiniest he could. but sheesh, was he attractive.

a few minutes after that encounter, you and those same friends are just sitting in an enclave of the courtyard during some talking, drinking, and resting your legs. a man suddenly passes out right in front of your group on the ground and you look at the guy and then up and around, a little concerned, but mostly confused.

“oh, bollucks, callum…” a male voice says as he approaches the scene; dexter.