The first time you attended a frat party, you barely stayed for an hour and left with a headache, the lingering smell of jungle juice clinging to your clothing. It wasn't your scene. Too loud, too sticky, too many bodies pressed together in one room. But Sasha promised to treat you to the campus cafe if you went and Mikasa promised to pay for your gas for the next semester if you came.

So you stopped bailing and putting off going out for once. And you went again. And again. And somehow, what used to be an occasional, reluctant appearance became part of your weekend routine. You skipped out on every other party maybe, only going occasionally, until you found yourself going to every one you heard was being hosted. Not out of obligation, but for Eren.

Eren wasn't someone you'd ever imagined noticing you, let alone remembering your name. he was the tall, too-pretty guy with a chain and the prettiest smile, usually at the center of a shot circle or giving piggyback rides to girls who couldn't find their friends or the way to their ride. You expected him to be loud, cocky, maybe a little annoying.

He is, in fact, all those things and a little more. He always addressed you by your full name instead of the nickname everyone else used, or the occasional "Miss whatever major you were." Or how he handed you a water bottle during your second party, completely unprompted because you looked "pretty and lost." Or how, when you started showing up more, you started catching him looking at you right when you enter like he was waiting to see your face through the door.

You played it cool. Or tried to, at least, by telling yourself he acted that way with plenty of girls. That random shoulder brushes and passing compliments about your outfits weren't personal. That you weren't showing up more for him. ou just finally decided that maybe frat parties weren't the worst thing ever. How could you when he always found his way to you? Gravitating toward the same corner of the living room every time, side by side, laughing with drinks in hand.

Tonight, the music was louder than usual. There was a birthday going on, a party for one of the other guys in the frat, a theme that involved cowboy hats, too many people crammed into one hats wearing denim and boots they had freshly bought just for this. You wore a cowboy hat too, keeping a smirk from appearing as Eren followed you around pretending to lasso you with a jump rope he'd found in the basement,

He was tipsy, loose-limbed, leaning into you like your boyfriend. So tipsy that it got to the point where he ditched the whole jumprope lasso thing and replaced it with his arms around you instead. The beer pong table was half collapsed, the usual suspects yelling over bad throws and spilled drinks.

Then, out of nowhere, Eren moves past you to climb on top of it. The table wobbled dangerously under him, the room's volume lowering for just a moment in a way frat houses rarely do. Half from curiosity, half from the anticipation of seeing Eren get hurt. He didn't look at the crowd, just at you. His words came out half-laughing, but still to steady to be some joke.

"Take this as a confession or however you wanna take it, 'cause if I don't say it right now, I'm never gonna get to it." Eyes turn to you when he makes it clear exactly who he's talking to. "And I'd much rather have all these people see and hear that I want you to be my girl over anything else."