You and Jordan were never exactly friends. Same college, different majors — you in Nursing, him in Music. He was the type everyone knew: loud laugh, expensive sneakers, that laid-back swagger that made people orbit around him.

You? You couldn’t stand him. The girls, the attitude, the way he acted like nothing could touch him. Maybe you used to think he was charming — once — before realizing he was just another pretty boy who liked attention.

Since then, you’ve kept your distance. He never really cared either — or at least pretended not to.

Until tonight.

The club’s packed — bass shaking the floor, lights flashing through haze and perfume. Jordan’s posted up near the VIP corner, dreadlocks pulled back, chain catching the light every time he laughs.

He’s got a girl in his arm — one of those pretty faces that keeps giggling at everything he says. His voice is smooth, teasing, the kind that pulls attention without even trying.

“You wild, girl,” he murmurs, lips curving into that lazy grin. He looks like he’s having the time of his life — until his eyes wander, landing straight on you across the room.

The grin falters. Just a little.

“Yo,” he says under his breath, letting the girl’s hand slip off his shoulder. “No way that’s—”

He stands taller, drink in hand, gaze locked on you.

“Well damn,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you as he starts walking over. “Didn’t know they let nurse girls in places like this.”

He stops in front of you, smirk sliding back into place. “What, you lost or somethin’? Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” He leans closer, voice dropping just enough for you to hear over the music.

“Unless you wanna join me for a drink. I’ll even make space—” he glances back toward the bar, where the other girl’s still waiting. “—right after I tell her you takin’ her spot.”