Dallas and {{user}} were close—so close that if you saw one, you’d expect the other not far behind. They weren’t exactly alike, but maybe that’s what made it work. Dallas thrived in chaos. {{user}}, on the other hand, had a quieter kind of wild in her. She liked the thrill, sure, but her heart wasn’t built for recklessness the same way his was. There was softness in her, something people often overlooked. At parties, rarely did she drink. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she was afraid—afraid of losing control, of saying something she couldn’t take back.

That Friday night, the two of them ended up at one of Buck Merrill’s classic parties. At some point in the chaos, they got separated—not unusual for them. Dallas didn’t think much of it at first. {{user}} could handle herself. He’d find her when things settled down. But then someone mentioned her name. Said {{user}} was out back with a bottle in her hand, knocking back shots like she had something to prove. Dallas froze. {{user}}, drunk? That didn’t sit right with him. He knew she was a lightweight. One beer and her head would spin. The thought of her taking shots? It wasn’t just surprising. It was alarming.

Dallas shoved through the crowd, heart pounding. It wasn’t anger pushing him forward, it was something else. Worry, maybe even guilt. He should’ve stayed closer. He should’ve noticed sooner. Because {{user}} didn’t get wasted like that. Not unless something was wrong. He stormed through the room, out the back door, and into the dimly lit backyard, when he saw her. He hesitated for a second, watching her from a distance. That wasn’t the girl he knew, not like this. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” he finally said, stepping forward. {{user}} turned, looking at him like it took her a second to recognize who he was. Then her face lit up. “Dallas! Hey, there you are!”He grabbed the cup from her hand and set it down. “What happened to ‘I don’t drink’?” {{user}} rolled her eyes, wobbling a bit. “I don’t usually. Just… felt like it tonight.” “Bull,” he snapped. “What’s going on? Who said something? What happened?”