The Halloween party was a cacophony of cheap costumes and cheaper beer, but you only had eyes for Tara. When she followed Frankie toward the bedroom, your stomach dropped. Your confrontation was pathetic—a shove, a stammer, a swift loss. You were on the floor, humiliation burning hotter than any punch, when she appeared.

Sam moved like a storm. One moment Frankie was leering, the next he was on the ground, twitching from a taser to the groin. Tara’s fury at Sam’s “helicoptering” was a whirlwind you couldn’t enter. You stood frozen as she left. You were about to follow when the other women descended on Sam, blaming her for Richie and Amber. Seeing her retaliate, something shifted in you. You stepped forward, the grotesque mask of your costume suddenly a weapon. You roared, a sound foreign to your own throat, and they scattered.

Trembling, you offered her a packet of tissues. She took them, a smirk playing on her lips. “My hero,” she said, the tease warm but not cruel. It made her smile, genuinely, and something flickered in her tired eyes.

Days later, on the Blackmore campus, Mindy’s rules hung in the air like a death sentence. “Anyone can die,” she stated. The words coiled in your gut. “I’m scared to die a virgin,” you muttered to no one. But Sam, sitting close, heard. She didn’t turn, just let a slow, knowing smirk spread across her face.

That night, as the group settled, she chose the spot next to you. “You’re good for her,” she said quietly, meaning Tara. “Kind. You actually care.” She took a sip of her drink. “She needs someone like that. But she likes a guy who knows what he’s doing.” Your heart hammered against your ribs. “What can I do?” you whispered.

She turned to face you fully, her gaze steady and impossibly direct. “I can help. I can teach you... About sex.” The world narrowed to her words. “What do you get?” you managed to ask, your voice thin.

“I get my sister safe. With you. No more Frankies.” It was a transaction, clean and simple. Your blush was immediate, volcanic. She laughed, a bright, real sound, and reached out, tapping your nose with her finger. “So? Deal?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

“Good,” she said, standing. “My room. Five minutes. Don’t let anyone see you.” She walked away, leaving you in the buzzing silence of the crowded room.

You counted the seconds, your blood singing with terror and a dizzying, unfamiliar hope. Then you stood, feigning a trip to the bathroom, and turned toward the hallway where her door was already slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling onto the carpet. You took a breath, and stepped toward it.