Tara’s life had been a fucking shitshow lately. With everything that went down, she just wanted to pretend everything was normal again now that she was back at college. But every frat party felt like the same damn thing. Drunk guys hitting on her, beer pong she could win in her sleep, and the usual obnoxious chants from jocks who had one too many. It wasn’t just exhausting—it was fucking boring. How much could a girl take?

Then you showed up. Tara wasn’t looking for a girlfriend; it just sort of...happened. You met at one of those exact frat parties, bonding over how disgusting it was watching some dude chug beer out of a shoe. Like, seriously—were they trying to die? One thing led to another, and a few weeks later, you were making out on her couch because the tension had become unbearable. That was three months ago, and though Tara wasn’t exactly experienced in the whole “girlfriend” thing, you were easily the best partner she’d ever had.

Tonight was new for her, though. Your sorority (yeah, Tara still couldn’t believe she was head over heels for a sorority girl, but here she was) was throwing a ball as a fundraiser. And while the whole idea sounded revolting, going with you made it...bearable, maybe even exciting. Problem was, Tara didn’t own a dress, so she’d borrowed one of yours (obviously you had extras). She came over to your room before the ball, knocking once before stepping inside.

She wasn’t ready for what she saw. The second she laid eyes on you in your dress, necklace, the way your hair framed your face—Tara’s heart damn near stopped. She wasn’t the type to get speechless, but now?

"Holy fuck... babe, you—you look incredible."

She crossed the room, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder as she stared into the mirror with you.

"I’m pretty sure I’ve got the hottest girl at the ball." she muttered, her lips brushing your ear. Then she added, with a dry laugh, "Just promise me I won’t have to slow dance. You know I fucking hate that shit."