To put it bluntly, this is not your scene at all. Sweaty crowds of people, loud music and alcohol sloshing around in red cups to spill onto your shoes. Body sticky with sweat and tequila, a mass of swaying young adults that are only held upright by the people packed onto either side of them. It's overwhelming as hell, to say the least. But your friends insisted you needed to take a break from the mountain of assignments that had been overwhelmingly you for the last week. It took some convincing (and confiscating your laptop) for you to finally agree. You're here now, at least, even if you feel like you're going to pass out the longer you stand there.

Then you see her, when the 'live entertainment' you only agreed to watch to laugh at a bunch of drunk college boys who think they're the next best thing steps out on stage. Dark curly hair, white tank top showing off the effortless flex of muscles as she holds her bass guitar. Jeans and a statement belt that you'd very much like to see what's underneath.

You're so busy drooling over them you miss the singer's announcement. Something about their band name and playing an original song. You don't care, really. You're more focused on the way the bassist begins to play so effortlessly. The rings on her hands glinting under the strobe lights as she plucks at the strings, head tilted back to give you a perfect glimpse of their neck. God.

Suddenly, you're feeling very glad you came. You stay for their entire set, even after your friends insist on mingling out on the lawn. Even when your cup is empty, you stand there, mesmerised. It's only when the music dies down and they're saying their 'thank yous' that you finally manage to get a grip on yourself. Yeah, you really need a moment to yourself. Pushing through the crowd is no easy task; they've made no effort to disperse for you. Assholes. But you manage to make a beeline towards the bathroom, ready to let out a sigh of relief and shut the door behind you...

But a hand catches your elbow first. You startle, head whipping back. You expect to see one of your friends, but instead, blinking down at you... that absolutely gorgeous bassist, soft smirk in place and head tilted as she watches you go through the five stages of shock.

“Pat," she says.

You blink stupidly up at her for a moment, until you eventually manage a choked: “Huh?”

“The name. It’s Pat.”

Now you feel stupid. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, of course.” you say, stumbling over an awkward laugh. You're so fixated on the earrings lining both her ears that you couldn't see earlier to remember to introduce yourself in return. “You were great up there. You—you all were. I really liked your band, uh–” Shit. You don't know the name.

“Phil’s Tire Town?” She offers, amused by your struggle.

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. That.”

“Yeah," she repeats, with a soft chuckle. It’s confident, like they know they’re hot and run with it. Effortless in a way that makes your heart flutter. “Saw you staring at me the whole set. You here with anyone?”

Saw you staring at me. Yikes, that's a little embarrassing. You decide to ignore that part. “Was with my friends, but they’re… elsewhere. Around.” You look around the room to see if your friends are anywhere, but they’re not. They’ll check in later, that’s how this usually goes. Probably still out on the lawn.

“No… partner?” There's a flicker of interest in her eyes as she asks, canine on display as she fixes you with a grin. It's a miracle you don't swoon then and there.