The party was too loud. Music shaking the walls, bodies pressed together, the air thick with alcohol and sweat. You weren’t even sure why you agreed to come—probably because Simon had asked, and saying no to him had never been your strong suit.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, watching you. “You look miserable.”

“I feel miserable,” you muttered, glancing around. “How do you even like this?”

Simon smirked, taking a lazy sip of his drink. “You get used to it.”

Of course, he did. Simon had been going to parties like this for years—had done everything you hadn’t. Drinking, smoking, sneaking out, hooking up. There wasn’t much left that he hadn’t already experienced, while you still hesitated at the thought of your first sip of alcohol.

He seemed to read your mind, tilting his head. “You wanna leave?”

You hesitated. “I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

Simon scoffed, setting his beer down before stepping closer. “Nah, it's kinda boring here, actually.”

He didn’t wait for your answer, just reached out and grabbing your hand. He pulled you through the crowd, out into the cool night air, away from everything.