"Hey, Emma!" Alex's voice cuts through the post-class chatter, pulling me out of my daydream about the cozy bed I'm planning to dive into as soon as I get home.

I turn, spotting him weaving through the crowd with that easy smile of his. Alex and I have had pretty much all the same classes since starting college. He's another graphic design major. We were paired for a group project our first semester and instantly clicked.

I pause, waiting for him to catch up. "Hey, what's up?"

He brushes his unruly brown hair out of his eyes—a habitual gesture that I've come to find endearing—and says, "I was going to grab some lunch. You in?"

My stomach answers before I do, rumbling loud enough to make a statement. "I could eat," I admit, and his grin widens in response.

"Great, let's go," he says, grinning.

We head over to the student union building and grab some sandwiches and chips.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" he asks, taking a big bite of his sandwich.

"Nothing thrilling. Study, laundry... the glamorous life of a college student," I say, my tone dry. The thought of another weekend spent with textbooks and detergent isn't exactly thrilling.

He laughs, the sound easy and warm. "Sounds like a blast."

"And you?" I probe, already suspecting his answer might involve more social activities than mine.

I'm not unpopular by any means, but I do like to keep to myself. Alex, on the other hand, is a social butterfly. He's in every club he can fit into his schedule, he plays any sport he can make the team for, and he joined a fraternity the moment he could. He is a boundless ball of energy all day, every day.

"I'm hitting a frat party," he says, his eyebrows doing a little dance that suggests mischief.

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Of course, you are," I mutter. My mind flashes back to the last frat party adventure—me, alone, a little too friendly with the punch, and an intimate acquaintance with some unfortunate bushes. Not my finest hour.

"Why don't you come with?"

"Those things aren't really my scene," I say, trying to keep the memories at bay. The truth is, I'm not great at saying no to one more drink, and these parties always end in regret.

"Please. You're killing me," he says, clutching his chest dramatically. "You never want to go out and have fun with me. Do you even really like me? Tell me now, I can take it," he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out.

Seeing him pout like that, I feel my resolve weakening. "Alright, fine. Calm down, boy. But if I end up a drunken mess, you're on cleanup duty," I warn, half-joking, half-serious.

His face lights up with a victorious smile. "Deal. You won't regret it," he assures me, but I'm not entirely convinced.

"When is this party anyway?"

"Friday night. I can pick you up, if you want."

I consider the offer for a moment. I really hate driving. And if I drink even the littlest bit, I will not be able to drive. I don't see how some people can drink whole six-packs and drive. If I down a single solo-cup, I'm unsteady on my feet. "Sure, I'll text you the address," I agree.

Alex is one of those people who is so easy to be around. He's nice, and thoughtful, and although I hate to admit it, he's funny. I would never tell him that, though. It would make his already oversized head even bigger.

We spend the rest of lunch chatting about our classes and upcoming assignments. We plan to meet up to work on a few assignments together.

After we part ways, I head to the library. I have a couple of papers due and I'm not even close to finished with them thanks to all that wedding planning.

I sit down at a table in the back corner, where it's quiet. This is probably my favorite spot on the whole campus. This lounge chair is comfortable and it sits in a spot where I can bask in the warm glow of the sun during the perfect afternoon hours.

I open my laptop and get started. The words flow easily, and the time passes quickly. Before I know it, I'm two pages into my paper. I take a break to stretch and check my phone. There's a message from Alex.

"Hope your paper is going well. Just wanted to say I'm looking forward to Friday."

I smile and reply. "I'm making progress. Can't wait for Friday."

It's odd that he's texting me when I had just seen him a couple of hours ago. And I'll see him again before Friday. He is one to be overly enthusiastic, though. He's like a puppy sometimes. Overly energetic and enthusiastic.

I get back to work, feeling inspired. I spend the next few hours working on the paper, and by the time I leave the library, I'm happy with my progress.

Friday arrives and I'm feeling surprisingly good about going to the party. Alex is a good friend and a great distraction from the monotony of school and home. Plus, a night out with no expectations is exactly what I need. I invited Skylar, but she's busy tonight.

I take my time getting ready, enjoying the process. I want to dress cute, but slutty. I want to show off just enough skin without being too revealing. I settle on a tight tank top, cut low enough to show off a hint of cleavage, and a pair of jean shorts that hug my ass just right.

Alex texts when he's outside and I grab my purse and head out.

"Damn, Em. You look amazing," he says, grinning when I slide into the passenger seat of his jeep.

"Thanks," I say, blushing. "You don't look too bad yourself."

And it's true, he doesn't. His shirt is tight, showing off his toned body. And his jeans are worn in all the right places.

"Shall we?" he asks, putting the car into gear.

"We shall," I confirm, settling in for the ride.

The music is loud and the house is packed. Alex leads the way, grabbing my hand and weaving through the crowds of drunk students and half-naked girls. I follow closely, keeping a tight grip on his hand.

The kitchen is filled with bottles of liquor and kegs of beer. Alex grabs two plastic cups and fills them, handing one to me.

"Cheers," he says, grinning.

We clink our cups together and down our drinks. The alcohol burns my throat, but the warmth in my belly is a welcome sensation. I need to remember to pace myself.

We refill our cups and continue through the house. The living room is even more packed than the kitchen. People are dancing, grinding, and making out everywhere. And I swear the couple in the corner are fucking. The girl's skirt is slightly hiked up, enough that I can see her ass cheeks. She's sitting in a guy's lap, facing him. I watch as she grinds against him. His face is strained, as if he is trying to control himself.

I tug on Alex's hand, getting his attention and motioning for him to look. His eyes move from mine to the couple. "Are they...?"

"I think so," I giggle. It's erotic, and hot, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't turning me on.

Alex looks back at me, face flushed as he adjusts his pants. Aw, poor little Alex is getting turned on, too. Isn't he? His grip on my hand pulls me forward as he starts moving again.

We continue on, making our way to the backyard. The night air is cool and refreshing after the heat and noise of the house. There's a bonfire in the firepit and a group of people sitting around it.

"Want to sit?" Alex asks, gesturing to the empty space.

"Sure," I agree.

We take a seat, and Alex introduces me to the group. There are a few faces I recognize from class, but most are unfamiliar. We chat and drink, and before long, I'm feeling loose and relaxed.

The conversation turns to sex and relationships, and the guys start comparing stories about their conquests. Alex is quick to add his own tales, laughing and boasting. I hadn't realized that Alex is a little slut. I would have never guessed. Well, I guess it isn't all that surprising. He's athletic, smart, cute. I can see what girls would see in him.

I sit quietly, listening.

"So, Emma, what about you?" Alex asks, nudging me playfully.

"What about me?"

"You've been awfully quiet. Any wild stories you care to share?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Nope, I'm afraid my dating history is pretty boring." And I'm not lying, but my thoughts turn to Ares. I've been doing well not thinking about him, until now.

"Come on, there has to be something," he urges.

"Sorry, I really don't have anything," I insist, shrugging.

"Seriously? No one? Not even a one-night stand?"

I blush, thinking about Ares. "Maybe," I say, trying to keep my voice light. I know I can't, won't, tell anyone about Ares, but I can give them just enough.

"Who was it? Come on, you have to tell us now," he says, nudging me again.

"I can't say," I insist, my cheeks burning.

"Oh, come on. Was it someone from class?"

"No."

"Then who was it?"

"Just someone I met. It was a one-time thing. That's all," I say, taking a sip of my drink.

Alex shakes his head. "Fine, keep your secrets," he jokes.

The conversation moves on, and I'm grateful for the change of topic.

"Let's play truth or dare," a girl with blonde hair and a bright pink tank top suggests.

The idea is met with a chorus of tipsy approval, and before long, the game is in full swing. It's silly and childish, but the alcohol makes it fun. We laugh and joke, and the dares become more and more outrageous.

"Emma, truth or dare?" The question comes my way, and for a split second, I'm torn. Playing it safe with a truth doesn't seem quite right tonight. "Dare," I declare, feeling a rush of boldness.

"I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the circle."

My cheeks burn, and I take another sip of my drink. "Okay," I say. As my gaze sweeps over the group, it inevitably settles on Alex.

He's smiling, his brown eyes glinting in the firelight. He leans forward, and I close the distance between us.

His lips are soft and warm. He kisses me gently, and I melt into the kiss. He tastes like alcohol and something sweet. He's a good kisser. His hand snakes around to the nape of my neck where it tangles in my hair. He deepens the kiss, but not in a forceful way. I expect him to slide his tongue in, but he doesn't.

When we pull apart, the group is cheering. My cheeks are burning, but I can't help but grin. Alex grins back, his brown eyes locked on mine. I can't believe I just did that.

When the night finally comes to an end, I'm drunk, happy, and feeling alive. I'm unsteady on my feet and Alex has to bear the brunt of my weight as we walk back to his jeep.

"Did you have fun?" he asks, his voice a little slurred.

"I did," I respond, the smile on my face feeling as wide as the moon.

He opens the passenger door for me, ensuring I'm securely buckled in before closing it gently. "Good, me too," he says, his grin infectious, mirroring my own happiness.

We drive home, the music playing softly in the background. The alcohol has made me sleepy and I rest my head against the window, enjoying the cool glass on my cheek.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I know, Alex is shaking my shoulder gently.

"Hey, sleepyhead, we're here," he says, his voice a gentle whisper.

I open my eyes, blinking slowly as the world comes into focus. We're parked outside my house, the headlights casting long shadows on the lawn.

"Thanks for a great night," I murmur, still a little groggy.

"You're welcome," he replies, a smile on his lips. "I had fun."

"Me too," I say, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait," he says, opening his own door and running around to my side.

He opens my door and offers his hand. I take it, and he helps me out of the car. I'm glad he did, because as soon as I stand up, I become dizzy and feel the ground tilt beneath me.

"Whoa," he says, steadying me.

I laugh and lean against the jeep, the metal cold and hard against my back. "I guess I'm a bit drunker than I thought," I admit.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Let me help you to the door at least."

"Thank you," I murmur, letting him wrap an arm around my waist and guide me up the front steps.

He unlocks the door for me after watching me fumble with my keys for a solid five minutes. "Thanks," I say, flashing him a grateful smile.

"No problem," he says, grinning.

I stumble inside, and he follows me, catching me before I trip and fall. His hands are tight around my waist.

"Easy there," he says, chuckling.

"Thanks," I mumble, a flush of embarrassment spreading across my cheeks.

"Can I get you some water?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"That would be great," I say, feeling grateful for his kindness.

He helps me to the couch, making sure I'm settled before heading to the kitchen.

I watch him as he moves around, getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with cold water from the tap. He looks at home, even though he's only been here a couple of times. My mother doesn't really care for outside guests.

"Here you go," he says, returning to the living room and handing me the glass.

I take a sip, the cool water a welcome relief.

"Thank you," I say, taking another sip. "I think I need to sober up a bit before I go to bed. Last thing I want to do is throw up in my bed. You want to stay for a little bit? Watch some TV?"

"Sure," he says, grinning. He takes a seat on the couch next to me.

My clothes feel too tight. Probably due to a mix of feeling overheated and being slightly bloated. Both which are thanks to the alcohol I drank. I fumble with the button on my shorts for what feels like forever before they come undone. I start to slide them down, but they catch on the couch.

Alex's voice is soft when he speaks. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Im hot," I explain, like it makes perfect sense as to why I'm stripping down. And to me, right now, it does. I kick my legs, attempting to kick off my shorts, but they don't budge.

"Stay still. Let me help," Alex offers. I still my movements long enough for him to slide my shorts down with no effort. It's not fair he was able to do that so easily.

"You're a pro at removing girl's clothing, aren't you?" I joke. Thinking back to the escapades he revealed at the party.

His face flushes as he looks up at me. He's on his knees in the floor in front of me. His hand lingers on my leg a little longer than necessary before he stands up.

"I wouldn't say an expert," he says, his hand running through his hair.

I reach for the hem of my shirt, ready to pull it off, when Alex's voice stops me. "Oh god, your shirt too?" He asks, his voice is strained, almost like he's in pain.

"I told you, I'm hot. I need this off, need something less constricting." I pull my shirt off as easily as he pulled my shorts off.

"Oh fuuuuck," he groans out. I don't know why he's making such a big deal about this.

"Here, at least put this on," he says, standing to take his own shirt off. He hands it to me and I put it on. It's warm and smells nice and isn't at all constricting.

"Thanks," I say, smiling up at him. He rejoins me on the couch, this time closer than he was before

I pull the blanket off the back of the couch, covering us both up, while he flips through streaming services.

"You pick," he says, offering the remote.

I choose something mindless, a reality show that doesn't require too much concentration. My eyelids are so heavy. I can't hold them open any longer. I lay my head on Alex's shoulder and drift off to sleep.