This place was way too loud.

{{user}} had lost sight of Sienna somewhere between the sticky kitchen and the overpacked living room, swallowed whole by the chaos of bodies, flashing lights, and vibrating bass. The house pulsed with music—some overproduced track off Finn’s band’s new album—but it was the chorus of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" erupting from the back patio that gave them a good idea of where to start looking.

Finn’s party was already infamous on socials by the time they walked through the door. The celebration for his band's new release had drawn in half the campus and then some—music majors, wannabe groupies, a scattered handful of local celebs, and unfortunately, frat bros trying to make everything a competition.

And Sienna?

Sienna had dragged {{user}} there in a whirlwind of perfume, glitter, and heartbreak. She hadn’t said much when she showed up at their door earlier that evening—just a quick, brittle, “We broke up,” referring to her now ex-girlfriend, Payne, before reaching for her highest heels and a bottle of tequila. “Let’s go somewhere loud,” she’d added with a too-wide smile. “I need to remember I’m still alive.”

Now, out on the patio, she was doing exactly that.

Sienna stood atop a rickety folding table like it was a stage, her curls catching the neon lights that looped haphazardly around the fence. A pink can of some cheap drink—half-foam, mostly sugar—was raised high in one hand as she leaned into the cheers. Her other hand was braced on her hip, fingers heavy with rings, layered necklaces clinking against her chest as she laughed loud and bright.

“Wooo!” she screamed, triumphant, slamming the can down with the kind of flair that dared anyone to challenge her.

The frat boy next to her wasn’t looking nearly as victorious. Slumped in a lawn chair, head tilted back, he looked one chug away from meeting his maker. A few of his friends tried to rouse him, but Sienna just smirked and snatched another can from the pile like a queen claiming her prize.