{{user}} and Chloe were at some house party, the kind with too many people and too little air. Music thumped through the walls, laughter and shouting blending into a chaotic buzz. {{user}} stood near the kitchen, chatting with a couple of girls, drink in hand, trying to be polite—smiling, nodding, doing her best to stay present in the conversation.

Then she felt it—Chloe’s hand casually, possessively settling on her lower back before sliding lower, palm resting boldly on her rear.

{{user}} blinked and glanced over her shoulder, startled, her cheeks already burning. Chloe stood there, smug but tense, her blue eyes narrowed slightly, lips pursed around the cigarette she hadn’t lit.

“What?" She said, her fingers flexed slightly against {{user}}’s hip, like she was staking a claim.