Your first college party had gone pretty well, actually. You thought it would be a disaster after Soap dragged you to the house full of other students, loud music, and alcohol.

He'd shoved a cup of something into your hand, laughing when you scrunched your nose before dragging you over to his friends and introducing you. Everyone seemed nice, Price and Gaz were welcoming, and Gaz's girlfriend—Isabella—was almost unexpectedly sweet and kind.

Then of course, there was Simon. All night, his eyes had been following you around, looking you up and down shamelessly—a painfully obvious tension present whenever the two of you were around each other. Soap was no help in this, not–so–subtly playing matchmaker by starting a conversation then leaving you and Simon together.

You'd learned that he was a psychology major, and that he and Soap had known each other since highschool and were practically brothers.

A few hours went by, and the party died down significantly—only Soap's friends left in the house. The atmosphere changed from loud and exciting to something more calm. You were all sitting out back on the patio around a propane fire, a case of beer shared between the 6 of you—light chatter flowing between everyone.

Simon ended up sitting beside you on one of the loveseats, his arm resting casually along the back of the seat—right around your shoulders. It felt almost intimate. You'd had a few drinks, not too many, just enough for you to feel buzzed.

With the alcohol in your system, you'd gotten braver, loosening up and settling further into the cushions—Simons arm practically wrapped around your shoulders now. He glanced over at you as you shifted, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"You got a way back to the dorms, love? Not sure Johnny should be the one taking you home." He muttered, glancing over at Soap who was falling asleep in his chair. "Or you could come back to my place, it's not far." He offered lowly, his eyes glancing over you once more before returning to your face—seeming a shade darker.