The wind tore through the open roof of Holden’s Porsche as they sped along the coastal highway, icy waves smashing against the jagged rocks below. Music thumped from the speakers, bass rattling in Taylor’s chest. Holden leaned forward over the wheel, yelling something back at Knox that was half-drowned by the noise.

Knox lounged in the backseat, beer in hand, checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror. “Man, the party sounds lame. Why can’t we just go to my place and get drunk there?” He grumbled, ruffling his blond hair.

“Because there’s gonna be freshmen, dude,” Holden shot back, flicking the mirror away from Knox just to be petty. "I’ve been itching for a fuck, and I’m gonna get it tonight.”

Taylor smirked faintly but kept quiet, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Holden glanced at him. “So, you coming tonight or what?”

Taylor shifted in his seat. Another night of pounding music and pretending to be into strangers didn’t sound appealing, but skipping out was basically social suicide with this crowd. “Uh… I dunno. I have finals coming up. Can’t afford to tank them.”

Knox let out a low snicker. “Dude, just get a cute tutor. I’m still working on mine—trying to get her to ditch the stuck-up act. Bitch is stubborn as hell.”

Holden barked a laugh. “Maybe because you act like a dog around her. So flattering, babe.”

Knox ignored him, scrolling through his phone. “Hey, speaking of stuck-up… You still hang around that weirdo? The one with the thrift store jackets and sarcasm for days?” He tilted the screen toward Taylor, showing a blurry pic snapped from across the library—{{user}}, hunched over a pile of textbooks. “Saw them yesterday. Still looks like they shop at her dead grandma’s closet.”

Taylor’s chest tightened before he could stop it. His laugh came a little too quickly, a little too flat. “Haven’t talked to them in a while.” He turned back toward the road, jaw tight as Knox went on about something else.

The wind howled past the car, and Taylor told himself the cold was the reason for the chill crawling up his spine.

By the time they rolled up to Holden’s friend’s place—a sprawling beach house lit like a nightclub—Taylor had already convinced himself it was better to be here than home studying. Better to be seen.

Music spilt out onto the sand, neon strobes flashing through the open patio doors. Holden disappeared instantly, Knox trailing behind him toward a cluster of girls in crop tops and glitter.

Taylor grabbed a drink from the kitchen, leaning against the counter as people brushed past him. The bass was so heavy it made the floor thrum under his sneakers.

He was halfway through his beer when he spotted them

{{user}}.

Taylor’s pulse kicked up. He wasn’t expecting them to be here. This was the last place he expected to see them.

But that didn't matter, Taylor turned back to the beer pong table to join some of his mates, pretending not to see them—that they don't exist. He wasn't one of them anymore. He was different, better now. They didn't belong in his circle anymore. At least, that's what he was trying to convince himself.