“OH MY GOD, girl—I’ll be right back!! I just saw the hottest guy—”

Your friend disappears into the crowd before you can stop her.

“Wait—hello?? We were supposed to stick together!” you call after her, but she’s already gone, swallowed by the crowd of drunk econ majors and LED lights.

You sigh, looking around like the universe might toss you a lifeline.

“Right. Abandon me the second we walk in. Love that for me.”

Now you’re standing awkwardly by the kitchen doorway, bass thumping from the living room, neon lights flickering, and a suspiciously red bowl of punch staring at you like it wants to ruin your life.

You sigh, stepping over to inspect it with a healthy amount of distrust. That’s when you hear him:

“So… you’re that girl from my psych class, huh?”

You glance up—and there he is.

Baseball cap turned backward, silver chain catching the kitchen light, one eyebrow raised like he’s already halfway through a pickup line.

Matt leans against the counter next to you, his smirk almost as sharp as his jawline.

“Didn’t peg you for a frat party type.”

He tilts his head, eyes flicking from your boots to your rings to your unimpressed expression.

“You here for the vibes, or just trying to keep your friend from hooking up with a finance major?”