★NORA★

The music was too loud. It pressed against my ears like a physical thing, a steady pulse that made my chest vibrate with every beat. The air was thick—warm bodies crammed too close, the sharp tang of alcohol mixing with the sweetness of perfume, the faint acrid smoke of something burning in the back. Voices clashed over the music, laughter and shouts colliding into a wall of sound that felt impossible to cut through. I gripped my cup tighter with both hands, the cold plastic biting into my palms.

Sienna was in her element. Of course, she was. She laughed, her blonde hair catching the glow of string lights as she leaned close to a girl we'd met five minutes ago, their conversation already flowing like they were old friends. People gravitated toward her, orbiting her like she was the sun. And me? I hovered at her side, caught between the pull of her warmth and the weight of the crowd pressing in on all sides.

I told myself I'd be fine. That I could survive one night of pretending. Sienna deserved that much—I didn't want to be the shadow dragging her down. But then - that prickle at the back of my neck. That feeling of being watched. I didn't want to look. I told myself not to. But my eyes betrayed me anyway, skimming across the crowded room until they landed on him.

Christian.

He stood at the pool table across the room, cue in hand, surrounded by his fraternity brothers. They laughed and cheered as he leaned over the table, the dim light overhead catching the sharp line of his jaw, the simple strength in his shoulders. And then his eyes slid to mine. It was only a glance, nothing more. But the weight of it pinned me in place. Heat climbed my neck, blooming across my face so fast I wanted to hide behind my hair. I snapped my gaze away, fixing it on Sienna, on the cup in my hand, on anything that wasn't him. But it didn't matter.

A few minutes later, I felt it again. That slow burn against my skin, that certainty that when I turned my head, he'd be looking. And he was.

I didn't understand it. Why was he looking at me? Why did his gaze keep drifting back when there were so many others clamoring for his attention—girls with glossy lips and short skirts, girls who leaned against him like they had a right to? I wasn't one of them. To him, I was just his sister's quiet best friend. The one who tripped over her words, the one he used to tease for being shy.

So why now? Why me?

I bit down on my lip hard, dragging my attention back to Sienna as she tugged me toward the drinks table, her chatter filling the air. I forced myself to nod, to smile, to sip from my cup as though I belonged here, as though I wasn't unraveling under the weight of a gaze I didn't ask for. Focus. Breathe. Don't think about him.

But my heartbeat thudded too fast, too loud, and no matter how hard I tried, the awareness stayed. Across the room, even with the noise and the chaos, Christian Hayes kept looking at me. And I didn't know what scared me more—that I wanted him to stop, or that part of me didn't.

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The noise pressed closer with every minute, laughter and music weaving into a single unbearable hum. On the other side of the room, a circle of people pulled Sienna into it, and her energy glowed as bright as the string of lights above her. I tried to follow the rhythm of the conversation, to laugh when she laughed, to nod when she gestured at me like I belonged, but my lungs felt too tight, my skin too hot. I needed air.

Slipping between groups, I edged toward the far corner of the room, where the light was dimmer and the crowd thinned. That's when I noticed her—sitting cross-legged on the arm of a sagging couch, a half-empty soda can dangling loosely from her fingers.

It appeared she belonged to a completely different world. Jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders, streaked with bold pink highlights that caught the colored lights overhead. A nose ring glinted in the glow, and her eyeliner swept sharp and deliberate — the look that dared you to tell her what to do. Her eyes flicked up as I approached, sharp and amused.

"You look about as thrilled to be here as I am."

I blinked, surprised.

"Not my scene."

A slow smirk tugged at her mouth.

"Same. My sister's making me be here. She thinks pledging her sorority is a sacred rite of passage." She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "So here I am, playing along. For now."

I smiled, just a little.

"That sounds awful."

"It is." She tilted her head, studying me as if she were piecing me together. "So, what's your excuse? Who dragged you into the pit of hell?"

I glanced back toward Sienna, whose laughter rang above the noise as she linked arms with two new friends. She seemed to radiate joy in the center of everything, as though she belonged in this kind of chaos.

"My best friend. She lives for this stuff. Huge party animal."

"Ah." The girl's smirk softened into something more like solidarity. "Classic extrovert-best-friend trap. I feel for you." She extended a hand, the rings on her fingers catching the light. "Miranda."

"Nora." I said, shaking it.

Her touch was detached and planned, the polar opposite of Sienna's lively warmth. We sat there for a few minutes, our disdain forming an easy bond. Miranda told me how she hated people yelling in her face over the music, how she thought beer pong was the dumbest thing ever invented, how she'd rather be at home sketching or scrolling in peace. I admitted I wasn't sure what to do with myself at parties—that I felt like a misplaced puzzle piece every time.

"Yes," Miranda said, tipping her soda can toward me like a toast. "Finally. Someone normal."

For the first time that night, I laughed without forcing it. But the moment cracked as quickly as it formed.

"Nina!" A voice cut through the din, high and polished. A girl in a fitted pink dress and pearls stormed up, eyes narrowing at Miranda. She was beautiful in the precise, preppy way of catalog models, every detail immaculate. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing sulking in the corner?"

Miranda groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Enjoying myself. Or I was."

The girl sighed and tugged Miranda's wrist, her tone more command than request.

"You're not here to hide. Come on. We've got people you need to meet."

Miranda shot me an apologetic look as she slid off the couch.

"Older sisters," she muttered under her breath. "The worst species alive."

And then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd at her sister's side, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of pink in her hair. I sat there a moment longer, the corner too quiet despite the pounding music. My hands tightened around my cup, the loneliness creeping back in, heavier than before. And when I lifted my gaze across the room, I found Christian's eyes on me again.

The air outside was sharp and clean, a relief after the heavy press of bodies and the sour-sweet mix of spilled beer and perfume. I stepped onto the porch and let the door swing shut behind me, muffling the music to a dull, distant thud.

Above, the night spread wide and endless. The stars were faint against the glow of the campus lights, but the sky still held that deep, endless navy that made me feel both small and steady at once. I tilted my head back, clutching my half-empty cup, breathing in the cool air like it might rinse away the tightness in my chest. For the first time all night, it was quiet. Almost. The creak of the porch boards behind me gave him away before his voice did.

"You always sneak off to brood under the stars, James, or is this just a special occasion?"

My pulse jumped. Christian stepped into the glow of the porch light, effortless as always. He had traded the pool cue for two cups, condensation glistening down their sides. One he held out toward me, his grin sharp, knowing.

"Don't worry," he said, lips curving into something close to a smirk. "It's alcohol-free. Wouldn't want you tripping over your words any more than you already do."

Heat crawled up my neck.

"I—I wasn't—"

"Relax." His chuckle was low, smooth, curling around me like smoke. "I'm kidding. Mostly."

I hesitated before taking the cup, fingers brushing his. Electricity shot up my arm, traitorous and immediate. He knew it too; his eyes flicked down, catching the contact, before lifting back to mine with that same devastating calm. For a moment, we stood in silence. Christian leaning against the railing, me clutching the cup like it might keep me upright. His presence filled the porch, larger than the night sky above, too close even when there was a space between us.

"Not your scene, huh?" he asked at last, tilting his head toward the muffled music inside.

"No." I admitted.

His grin deepened, edged with something smug.

"Thought so." He pushed off the railing, turning back toward the door as if he hadn't just pulled the ground out from under me. "Don't disappear too soon, James. Watching you squirm is the highlight of my night."

And then he was gone, slipping back inside with that unhurried stride, leaving me rooted to the porch, heart thudding too hard, too fast. I hated the way he said it. The arrogance, the teasing edge, the certainty that he knew exactly what effect he had on me. I hated it. But I couldn't stop replaying the sound of his laugh in my head.

The door creaked open again, and for one panicked second I thought it might be him returning. But it was Sienna. She slipped out into the cool night, letting the door fall shut behind her, muting the bass back into a dull, distant thud. The porch light caught her hair, turning it golden; her face softened with the smile that could disarm anyone.

"There you are," she said, her voice warm and teasing all at once. "I figured your social battery ran out."

A laugh escaped me, shaky but real.

"That obvious?"

"Only to me." She crossed the porch without hesitation and hooked her arm through mine, tugging me into her side like we'd been walking that way our entire lives.

Which, in a way, we had. Sienna didn't scold. She didn't roll her eyes. She didn't make me feel like I was failing for needing quiet when she thrived on noise. That was Sienna—bright enough to light up an entire room, but always careful to leave space for me in her glow.

"Come on," she said, giving my arm a little squeeze. "Let's bail. We'll head back to the dorm, order the greasiest pizza we can find, and binge-watch whatever ridiculous show we get sucked into this week. Just us. Like always."

The lump in my throat made it hard to answer.

"Are you sure? You looked like you were having fun."

"I was." She grinned, eyes crinkling. "But I'd rather be with you. Always."

Something in my chest cracked, the warmth spreading until it hurt. That was the thing about Sienna—she never asked me to be more than I was. She'd drag me into the world, yes, but she never pushed me so far I couldn't find my way back. She could tell when my laughter was genuine and when I faked it, when I smiled for myself and when I was just putting on a show.

That kind of friendship wasn't loud. It wasn't flashy. But it was the bond that felt stitched into my bones, unshakeable and permanent. I squeezed her arm, words still tangled in my throat. She didn't need them.

We slipped off the porch together; the night folded around us as the lights and noise of the fraternity house faded behind. Our steps found their familiar rhythm, matching like they always had—two girls who'd grown up side by side, still tethered even as the world grew bigger.

By the time we crossed the quad, the campus felt almost magical in its quiet. A refreshing breeze kissed my hot cheeks, and the stars provided a calming light above. Sienna chattered about which show we should start, her voice light and certain, like the world couldn't touch us as long as we had each other. And though I told myself not to, I glanced back once—just once—toward the glow of the fraternity house in the distance. And I swore I could still feel his eyes on me.

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