Another night, another collage party. A party you actually attended with a friend this time.

You never attended collage parties, let alone frat ones. The only reason you decide to come along is because one of your female friends, Shoko, convinced you to. She said — quote — "you needed to find a girlfriend". You weren’t even sure if the type of girl you were into would even be at this kind of event.

Your first semester of collage was nothing out of the ordinary. You went to class, got good grades, made friends — the usual. The one thing you couldn’t wrap your head around was what? Frat guys, especially the group that you had on your campus. How could a person be so stupid and manage to host a literal fun-drunk every two days? You didn’t know, neither did you truly care. It wasn’t your problem.

But someone among the category was your problem. And who was that? None other than the notorious frat boy Satoru Gojo, the most known and loved jock on campus. For some reason, he always found a way to pick on you. From taking your pen away in class to shoving you against a wall in the hallway, he got off on tormenting you. Just you apparently since everyone else was cookoo over him.

Why? His looks. Gojo was gorgeous, the messy white hair usually kept underneath a maroon backwards cap and black tank top showing his bulging muscles — who wouldn’t fall for a total bimbo like him? A flirty one at that. Shit, he’d flirt with the wall if he had enough drinks.

Thankfully, you’ve had the ability to ignore him for the past few weeks since you took up the class you had with him into an online course instead. Little did you know, he actually noticed. Did he care though? Maybe? Maybe not? You would never know.

Until tonight, that is.

You stood awkwardly beside Shoko as he talked to her girlfriends, cup filled with nothing other than water in your hand. You weren’t the drinking type, mostly because you actually liked staying sober.

Your eyes averted over to the pool table, zoning out onto the loud multitude of guys playing with utter competitiveness. Staring so hard, you didn’t even acknowledge the sudden bump that sprung against your elbow, causing your drink to knock out of your hands and onto the wooden ground.

You quickly swallowed, crouching down to clean your mess. But when you looked back up? That was your first mistake.

There stood Gojo, towering over you with his usual stupid, cocky grin. His eyes lit up with surprise after taking in your whole face, realizing it was you.

"Is that who I think it is?" Satoru asked, breath reeking of aged alcohol and saltine crackers. His hand smoothed down the fabric of his black tank top, muscles protruding out from the front.

"Hah, and I thought you left! Had me excited for a moment." He arched a brow with another smile, foot being used to kick away your cup to the other side of the room. Same Gojo, still being a bitch.