The bass thumps so hard I can feel it in my ribs before I even step through the front door. Friday night, and Liyue U’s infamous riverside frat house is already spilling over with bodies, music, and the faint tang of cheap beer. I wasn’t planning on showing up, honestly. I’d been lounging with the guys, half-heartedly talking trash over a game of pool, but boredom has a way of dragging me back to the chaos. And besides, everyone knows—if I don’t show, it’s not really a party.

I shove my hands in my pockets, grinning at the half-drunken cheers when people spot me. “Childe’s here!” someone hollers, and I toss them a wink. Easy. Automatic. It’s not even about trying anymore—it’s just the role I play. The guy everyone wants around.

But then I see it.

At first, it’s just noise and flashing lights, but my eyes catch on a table in the middle of the living room. And there—of all people—is her.

{{user}}. The so-called nerd. The one I’ve only ever seen hunched over books in the library, glasses sliding down her nose, oversized hoodies swallowing her frame. Always polite, always reserved. The kind of girl who slips through the noise unnoticed, buried in her work.

Except right now, she’s standing on a damn table in heels so high I don’t know how she’s not toppling over, dress short enough that the room’s collective jaw has hit the floor. And she’s laughing—actually laughing, head thrown back, hair whipping around as she sings along to Lady Gaga’s Government Hooker like the stage was built for her.

“Yo, is that…?” my buddy nudges me, wide-eyed. “No way. That’s the library girl, right?”

I don’t answer. My throat’s gone dry.

Because what the hell am I looking at?

Noelle’s up there with her, steadying her by the wrist every now and then, but {{user}} doesn’t need it—she looks…free. Too free. Like she’s been waiting for this exact moment her whole life and just never let anyone see it before.

“Damn, didn’t know she had that in her,” one of the guys whistles.

Yeah. No kidding.

My feet are already moving before I’ve decided to. I shoulder through the crowd, ignoring the greetings, ignoring the hands clapping my back. My eyes don’t leave her. And all I can think is: who the hell got her this drunk?

I reach the edge of the table just as she stumbles slightly, laughing it off, tossing her hair like some kind of pop star. The crowd eats it up. I don’t.

“Alright, sweetheart,” I call up over the music, my grin sharp but my chest tight, “didn’t know you had a secret nightlife career. Planning to drop the nerd act and start a tour?”

Her eyes find mine. And for a second—just a second—she freezes. Like she wasn’t expecting me here. Like maybe the mask slips. But then she smirks, tipsy and bold, and leans down just enough to shout back, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Childe!”

The crowd hollers. My boys whistle. I swear my heart stops.

Because she’s right—I do love it. Too much.

“Get down before you break your neck,” I say, more serious now, stepping closer to the table. I offer my hand. She waves it off.

“Nope!” she sings, swaying her hips to the beat. “I’m fine. I’m—” She stumbles, and Noelle steadies her.

“Ajax,” Noelle hisses, catching my eye. “She’s not as fine as she thinks.”

“I can see that.” My jaw tightens. I try again, keeping my voice light. “C’mon, princess, I’ll trade you a dance floor for the table. You’ll still have an audience—promise.”

She giggles, dramatic, pointing at me like she’s deciding whether I’m worthy. “You gonna keep up with me?”

“Try me,” I shoot back.

The crowd cheers at the challenge. She hesitates—then finally takes my hand. Her skin is warm, soft, and way too steady for someone who’s supposedly drunk off her ass. I help her down, slow and careful, glaring at anyone who gets too close.

She lands on the floor, heels wobbling, and crashes right into my chest. I catch her without thinking, my arm sliding around her waist.

“Easy there,” I murmur.

She looks up at me, flushed and defiant, eyes sparkling like I’ve never seen before. And for once, I don’t have a line ready. My brain’s just static.