Louis was the king of the frat house, effortlessly popular, not just on campus but everywhere he went. Football, wild parties, and shallow hookups were the pillars of his existence, and he didn’t bother pretending to care about much else.

Women were nothing more than passing diversions to him—especially her.

She was the one girl Louis knew he didn’t have to worry about. He could lose everyone else, but she’d always be there. She was in love with him, and he knew it. He just pretended not to. It was easier that way, to act oblivious while still using her whenever it suited him.

At every party, she was by his side. He’d kiss her, sometimes sleep with her, all while knowing she’d never say no.

One night, on the roof of the frat house, Louis kissed her again, the taste of alcohol sharp on his lips. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured in her ear, his voice dripping with casual affection—words he’d never dare say when sober.