Sam wasn't sure why he'd agreed to this.

Maybe it was peer pressure (he's only human), maybe the promise of free booze, or the lonliness that had slowly started to creep in since his arrival at Stanford. Whatever it was, it had led him here.

To some dumb frat party.

He feels completely out of his element. The music's too loud and people too close as he nurses a beer. The shot he'd taken with his friends had worn off forever ago as he somehow winds up in some random circle in a corner, regretting it almost immediately once he realizes what's happening. A bottle is spun and it lands on you.

He'd seen you before. Many times. Your paths seemed to cross constantly on campus, but he'd never had the balls to talk to you.

He figures he'll have to now.

You give him a smile and walk over to the designated bathroom as one of his friends practically shoves him to follow you.

God, he hates this game.