The house is loud. Music pulsing, perfume and cologne tangled in the air like war. You’re lounging in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, drink in hand, laughing at some stupid thing your friend just said. You look like you belong—like this is your world, and everyone else is just lucky to breathe the same air.

Tonight’s crowd? Big. Everyone’s dressed to impress, half the campus showed up. Someone brought glow-in-the-dark cards. The drinks are flowing. And of course—someone just had to start a game.

Truth or Dare.

You’ve been dodging rounds for a while now, but eventually, it lands on you.

Your best friend leans in, eyes sparkling with trouble. “Alright, Queen of Chaos,” she says, “truth or dare?”

You don’t even blink. “Dare.”

The room oooohs like they’re twelve. Your friend doesn’t even hesitate. “I dare you to kiss someone. Not just anyone—him.”

She points subtly across the room.

You follow her line of sight... And there he is.

Of course it’s Izan fcking Vale. Tall, smooth, always surrounded by people but never really talking. A business major with a devil’s grin and rumors tied to his name like perfume—detached, cold, unreadable. He’s wearing a black button-up, sleeves rolled, glass of whiskey in hand like he owns the damn house.

You’ve never said a word to him.

The crowd watches as you rise, dress hugging just right, heels clicking against the floor like a countdown.

You walk straight up to him. He looks at you over the rim of his glass, intrigued, one brow lifting like he’s already guessing what you’re about to do.