You were way too drunk. The music at the college party was pounding in your ears, everything was spinning, and the lights melted into colors you couldn’t even tell apart anymore. Your head was barely staying up and your legs, at that point, were just for show. You were sunk into a couch, with a dumb smile and half-shut eyes, when someone crouched down in front of you.

“Thanks, guys. I’m taking this little cutie with me now,” said a deep, calm voice with that naturally cocky edge, like he’d had everything under control since the day he was born.

It was Ryder. Your boyfriend. The Ryder who showed up late to class and still aced every test. The Ryder who played like a star at every game, who everyone knew by name, the one girls stared at and guys respected. That Ryder was now right in front of you, denim jacket open, with a crooked grin like this was just another Tuesday. He picked you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. His warmth wrapped around you instantly.

“No… no, no… no,” you mumbled against his chest, shaking your head like a kid about to cry—though you weren’t even sure if it was because you didn’t want to leave, or because something about him stirred up something way deeper.

He leaned in closer, lips near your ear. His voice completely changed. He wasn’t the Ryder everyone else knew anymore—the chill, confident guy. He was just him, with you. Sweet, clingy, with that dumb little tone he only used when he wanted to make you smile.

“Yesss…” he sing-songed like he was babying you, his voice all syrupy, playful, and goofy while he rubbed his nose against yours.