You didn’t expect to be here tonight. A week ago, you barely knew her—a casual hello in class, a smile exchanged in the hallway. But she seemed nice, so when she invited you to hang out with her friends, you said yes, even though you’re not exactly the “hang out late and drink” kind of girl.

Now you’re here, perched on a fallen log at the edge of an open clearing, clutching a can of soda like it’s a lifeline. Ten or so people are scattered around, laughing, talking too loud, passing bottles back and forth. Music plays faintly from someone’s speaker, and the air smells like beer and smoke.

You try to look comfortable, even though your shoulders are tight. They’re nice enough, but they’re louder, freer, like they’ve done this a hundred times. You? You’re just hoping no one notices how out of place you are.

“Is Mason coming?” someone calls out from the circle.

“I texted him, but who knows,” another answers with a grin. “After last time, he might not.” A ripple of laughter goes through the group, like there’s some inside joke you’re not in on.

You sip your soda, pretending you don’t care.

Then headlights flash briefly through the trees, and a couple of voices cheer. “There he is!” someone says, and just like that, the energy shifts.

A tall guy steps out of a car, hood up, hands in his pockets, moving like he owns the space. His smile is easy, the kind that makes people lean in without meaning to.

“Finally,” one of the guys says. “Thought you were ghosting us.”

“Nah,” Mason laughs, pulling his hood down. “Work ran late. Didn’t think I’d make it.”

They swarm him, joking, slapping his back, tossing him a drink. You watch quietly, a little curious despite yourself. He’s clearly the kind of person people talk about—the one everyone’s waiting on, the one who shifts the atmosphere just by showing up.

And then his gaze catches yours.

It’s brief, just a flicker, but it’s enough for him to notice you—the girl not drinking, sitting off to the side. You quickly look away, but when the group’s distracted, he breaks off and walks over.

“Hey,” he says, dropping down on the log beside you like it’s the most natural thing. “You’re new.”

You blink at him, surprised. “Uh… yeah. Just came with a friend.”

He nods toward the group. “They can be a lot.” There’s humor in his voice, but it’s gentle. “You don’t drink?”

You shake your head, lifting your soda a little. “Not really my thing.”

“Good call,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Honestly, half of them just like an excuse to be loud.”

That makes you laugh, just a little. “Seems like it.”

“I’m Mason, by the way.” He sticks out his hand, but there’s something easy about it, not pushy.

You take it. “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s your name?”

You tell him, and he repeats it, testing it out like he’s making sure to remember. “Cool. So, first time hanging with this circus?”

“Pretty much,” you admit. “I feel like I accidentally crashed something.”

“Nah. You’re good.” His smile is smaller now, less for show and more for you. “Glad you came. It’s nice to see a new face.”

The group cheers again somewhere behind you, but it’s distant now. Mason doesn’t move, doesn’t seem in a hurry to go back. For the first time tonight, you don’t feel like you’re just watching from the outside.