The party was loud as hell. Music blasting, lights flashing, half the hockey team already drunk out of their minds. Ian sat on the arm of the couch, drink in hand, smoke clinging to his clothes. He hated parties. He hated people. And he really fucking hated Jake.

Jake was across the room, laughing like he owned the place. Brown hair messy, eyes too bright, mouth curved in that same smug grin that made Ian’s jaw lock. He was surrounded by people like always. Girls hanging off him, guys cheering him on. Typical.

Someone yelled over the music. “Truth or dare, Jake!” Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Dare.”

A chorus of drunken voices shouted, “Kiss Madison!”

Jake grinned, like he loved every bit of attention. Madison giggled, leaned in, and kissed him. It was quick, stupid, but Ian felt his chest tighten anyway. He hated that it bothered him.

He muttered something under his breath and stood up. He could feel Jake’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look back. He walked straight into the kitchen and grabbed another drink. Then another. The liquor burned all the way down, but not enough to drown out the image of Jake’s stupid fucking smile.

“Yo, Ian, you good?” one of the guys called from the living room. “Never better,” Ian said flatly, pouring himself more.

He leaned against the counter, muscles tense, tattoos shifting with every breath. The smoke smell was stronger here. Safer somehow. He stared at his reflection in the dark window. The nose ring, the scars he kept hidden under ink, the look that screamed don’t touch me. It was all armor.

The door creaked behind him. Jake’s voice filled the silence. “You really gonna act like a bitch over a dare?”

Ian didn’t turn around. “Fuck off.”