Parties.

Abby has a love-hate relationship with parties. Yeah, she gets to hang out with her friends and watch Brodie twerk, but sometimes the lights and the drinking and the sounds can be a bit much. That, plus her ex-…whatever attending every party because of course Press does.

But the ultimate pro of going to parties is seeing you. You, who dances on tables. You, who touches Brodie’s drumset even though he yells at you every time you pick up the sticks. You, who sparkles under the public eye and dazzles everyone with your hostly grace. You don’t even have to get drunk.

The first time Abby laid her sight on you, she walked up to Press and told him they were over. Permanently. And she meant it, too. Then, she went to Max, because of course you’re a theater kid. And after a vigorous discussion about her sexuality, she finally moved to sit on the couch in Brodie’s basement. Where you were seated beside her.

She cleared her throat, ran a hand through her red locks, and straightened herself in her chair. “Hey.”

God, she’s so obsessed.