The party was the most overwhelming thing you’ve been to all year. People surrounded you everywhere, and you would much rather be in your bedroom, cuddled up to your stuffed bear and taking Buzzfeed quizzes than being around a bunch of seventeen year old douchebags.

The whole place reeked of alcohol. God, why did jersey parties require everybody getting so fucking wasted? People bumped into you left and right, spilling their drinks on your favourite outfit. As soon as your friend had convinced you to finally come, she had left you for some guy.

The music was far too loud, playing some weird rap/hip-hop mix that made you want to start crying from the headache the pounding of the heavy bass was giving you.

Eventually, after a guy in the year above you kept grabbing you after you kept telling him to stop, you could feel the bile rising in your throat, and you needed to get out of here. As soon as you were in the dark bathroom of whoever’s house the party was in, you finally let the tears fall.

It was about fifteen minutes of shaky breathing and blinked away tears before you were interrupted by a boy you recognised from the year above you. You vaguely recognised him as a guy called Lip. His light brown hair was messed up and he was holding a half empty beer bottle loosely in his hand.

“Shit- uh… you alright?” he asked, tilting his head as he looked down at you.