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the minute boston dayes looked across the crowded frat party and made eye contact with you, he was gone.

cerise, of course, ate that shit up. he was absolutely hammered, and while slurring his words, he put a hand on boston's shoulder. "go talk to her! what's the worst that could happen, huh? i've never seen you this head-over-heels for anything, ever."

boston was barely focused on what cerise was saying — he was practically background noise, slipping in with the blaring house music— his main focus was you. a beautiful blur of curls dressed up in a little vintage victoria's secret slip dress, with bug ears and a sleep mask. dressed as a bedbug. cute. a rare, fond smile graced his features.

unable to help himself, he weaved through the crowd, a relaxed expression gracing his sculpted face. stopping right in front of you, he offered that charming smile he used mostly on his grandmother. "boston dayes." he stuck out a hand like a business executive. "your name, pretty girl?"