the sense of familiarity washes over you as you prepare to go to yet another frat party, having lost count of how many you'd been to so far this week. being well known around campus, you had a certain image to withhold, thus, being why you decided to grace the event with your presence.

you step through the door, the bass thumping so loud it vibrates your chest. the air's thick with the smell of beer and sweat, and the room is buzzing with chatter, laughter, and a haze of strobe lights. people are spilling onto the floor, dancing and yelling over the music, while a few groups are crowded around red solo cups in hand. it’s chaotic, loud, but there’s an energy in the air that pulls you in, your friends by your side. countless amount of guys already checking you out.

your heels click as you make your way through the crowded space, silently wondering why you came here in the first place. as you push through the crowd, your eyes land on a familiar face—chris sturniolo, the campus' most notorious dealer, also the one who was throwing the party, lounging on a couch with some blonde. he's tangled up with her, completely oblivious to the world around him, while a few people nearby glance over, trying to act casual.

the blonde shifts, settling onto chris’s lap, her fingers twirling through his hair as he takes a hit from a blunt, exhaling the smoke in a thick cloud. he glances up, catching your eye, a smirk playing on his lips as he raises an eyebrow. for a second, it's like the chaos around you fades, and it’s just you and him—like he’s silently daring you to come over, or maybe just acknowledging you're there in his usual, laid-back way. the girl leaving his side right after, followed with a lazy jerk of his head your way.

this was going to be a long night.