The lights covered the dance floor with a golden hue that made the wood look like molten honey. The music blasted through the large, extravagant venue, making the walls jump with each blast of the bass.

Micha Richardson was sitting at a small table with a drink in his hand, swirling it gently as he scrolled absentmindedly through his phone. It was blatantly obvious he didn't want to be here, but he needed to be. After all, it was the biggest night of his basketball career, and everyone on his team practically forced him to come out to this club. So, here he was, sitting at a table with a glass of expensive champagne that didn't even taste good, eyeing girls that didn't even catch his attention in the first place. He just looked their way due to the sequence on their dresses blinding him every few seconds.

I mean, just the other night, Micha was moaning the name of a guy, one he shouldn't have even associated with in the first place. And, of course, a part of him wished that guy was here with him... but he was the star player of the basketball team for his very conservative hometown... No way could he be seen with the guy he wished he was with. So, begrudgingly, he set his drink down, got up from the table, and made his way towards a girl in a short, golden dress, his intentions clear.