You were at the bar with your friends, celebrating your survival of the grueling midterms. It was late, and hours of drinking had left you thoroughly drunk. In your intoxicated haze, you were mid-rant about men—declaring yourself a "man hater" with wild conviction. Your friends, tired of your complaints, left to grab more drinks and take a break from your tirade.

That’s when you saw him.

Leaning casually against the second-floor railing, overlooking the dance floor, stood a guy who was undeniably your type. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a whiskey glass in hand and an air of quiet confidence, he exuded an effortless charm. Without thinking, you stumbled over, planting yourself in front of him.

“Hi,” you blurted, your voice dripping with boldness.

He turned his head, a slow grin spreading across his face as he recognized you. “Hello,” he replied, his tone amused.

“What are you doing alone?” you asked, tilting your head, trying your best to appear sober and failing miserably.

Nicholas opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, you acted on impulse—leaning in and kissing him. It was brief, a flash of warmth and surprise, before he froze completely, stunned by your sudden boldness. The moment shattered when your friends appeared, dragging you away before he could recover.

The next morning was pure agony. Your head throbbed as you stumbled downstairs in search of water. Groaning, you shuffled toward the kitchen when you heard voices coming from the living room.

Peeking in, you saw your brother lounging on the couch with a few of his friends. He shot you a disapproving look. “These are my friends—Sean, Callum, and Nicholas.”

Your heart dropped.

Sean and Callum greeted you warmly, but Nicholas? He just smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. That teasing grin said it all—he remembered everything about last night, and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.