You knew you'd regret ever going to the party before you even crossed the door. Not because anything bad would happen—at this point, you wished it would have been that—, but because you knew nothing was going to change in your life in the following four hours.

No one went to a frat party expecting some divine miracle, but you had always been one to put your expectations in the least appropiate places. And people.

Yet, you weren't expecting Conrad Fisher to sit by your side in the balcony past midnight. You didn't offer him much more than a sidelong glance, your eyes fixed on the crescent moon while your fingers toyed with your half empty plastic glass.

He made a comment, perhaps a sarcastic one. That brought a smile to your lips.

You didn't know each other, but you knew who he was. Top of his class, small circle, big heart.

You were far from drunk, but that didn't stop you from opening up to nothing but a stranger that happened to be able to hear...