Drake's P.O.V

The night of the party came faster than I expected. I was a nervous wreck. Zack, on the other hand, was thrilled like a kid on Christmas morning. He even showed up at my place early, dressed in his "cool guy" attire which is a leather jacket he clearly didn’t need, ripped jeans, and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses. why was he wearing a sunglass? Honestly I didn't wanted to know.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” he asked, looking me up and down. 

“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced at my simple black t-shirt and jeans. 

“Nothing… if you’re going to a PTA meeting. This is a party, Drake. You’ve got to look the part.” 

Zack rummaged through my closet, pulling out a shirt I hadn’t worn in ages, a fitted blue button-up that made me feel like a fraud. 

“Perfect,” he declared, tossing it to me. 

I sighed but changed anyway.

My stomach churned as Zack and I walked up the driveway to the Hayes’ sprawling house, lit up like a beacon in the darkness. Cars lined the street, and the muffled thump of music reverberated through the air. Zack, of course, was buzzing with excitement, practically dragging me along.

The place was packed. Lights flashed from inside, casting shadows of people dancing against the walls. 

“Let’s do this,” Zack said, dragging me toward the door. 

The front door was already open, and stepping inside felt like entering another world. The living room had been transformed into a makeshift dance floor, packed with bodies moving to the beat of the music. People were everywhere, dancing, drinking, shouting over the music. The air was thick with the scent of cologne, spilled beer, and something smoky I couldn’t quite place. 

“Drake Finn, welcome to the big leagues!” Zack shouted over the music, slinging an arm around my shoulder. 

“Alright, what’s the game plan?” Zack asked, looking around like a kid in a candy store.

“Survive,” I said, my voice drowned out by the music.

Zack laughed. “Good luck with that.”

Before I could reply, he was gone, weaving through the crowd with the ease of someone born to be in the spotlight. I, on the other hand, stuck to the edges of the room, clutching a soda and trying not to look completely out of place.

I managed a weak smile, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. That’s when I saw him. Ethan Hayes, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his effortless charm on full display. He was laughing at something a girl said. A stunning brunette with her hand on his arm. His 'girlfriend,' I assumed.

The sight hit me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much. Maybe because she was beautiful and confident in a way I could never be. Or maybe because Ethan looked at her like she was the only person in the room, the same way he’d smiled at me in chemistry class.

My chest tightened, and I turned away, my drink suddenly tasting like ash.

“Dude,” Zack’s voice cut through my thoughts. He appeared at my side, a goofy grin on his face. “I just saw someone try to drink beer out of a vase. This party is amazing.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I muttered.

Zack tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just… this isn’t really my scene.”

“Then let’s make it your scene.”

I barely heard him. My eyes were glued to Ethan, who leaned in close to the girl, his lips brushing her ear as she giggled. He looked so comfortable, so effortlessly charming. It made me feel small, like I didn’t belong here.

What did I expect anyway?

“Come on,” Zack grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the living room. “C’mon, live a little.”

The night blurred into a mix of awkward small talk, loud music, and Zack’s relentless attempts to get me to loosen up. For a moment, I did forgot about Ethan. I even laughed, genuinely laughed, when Zack tried to breakdance and ended up flat on his back.

“Zack, stop,” I hissed, pulling him up.

“Why? I’m killing it!” 

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” 

“Correction: us,” he said, grinning. “And that’s what makes it fun!” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. Zack’s enthusiasm was infectious, even if it was completely misplaced. 

But the peace didn’t last.

I was halfway through a glass of punch when I heard the shouting. Near the back of the house, a group had gathered around Emma, who was holding something in her hands—a sheet of paper. 

Curiosity got the better of me, and I edged closer, Zack in tow. 

“Who did this?” Emma demanded, her voice cutting through the crowd. 

The paper was another caricature, a cruel one. It exaggerated her features in a way that was anything but flattering, with a caption that read, 'Drama Queen Strikes Again.'

“I’m not asking again,” she said, her voice icy. 

“Whoa,” Zack whispered. “Someone’s in trouble.” 

Ethan appeared out of nowhere, snatching the paper from her hands. His easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by something cold and sharp. 

“Who did this?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. 

Nobody answered. 

Ethan’s gaze swept the room, and for the first time, I saw a side of him that was... terrifying. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark and unyielding. He wasn’t just angry—he was furious. 

Emma hesitated. “One of your friends mentioned a name. I think it was Connor.”

The room fell silent as he zeroed in on the Connor guy near the back, a scrawny junior who looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

My curiosity outweighed my better judgment, and I had to see what he was capable of when he wasn't playing the role of the charming, untouchable Ethan Hayes.

Connor was backed into a corner, his lanky frame visibly trembling. Ethan stood in front of him, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter.

“You think it’s funny to humiliate my sister?” Ethan’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Connor raised his hands in surrender. “Look, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke!”

Connor stammered, his eyes darting toward the door as if he was contemplating an escape.

“A joke?” Ethan echoed, his voice dangerously low. “You plastered her face all over the school lockers like a damn cartoon. That’s not a joke."

Before Connor could stammer out another excuse, Ethan swung, his fist connecting with Connor’s jaw in a sickening thud.

“Ethan!” I yelled, stepping forward, but he didn’t even glance my way.

Connor stumbled, clutching his face, but Ethan was relentless. He grabbed Connor by the collar, slamming him against the wall. Blood trickled from Connor’s nose, painting his shirt red.

“I’m sorry!” Connor pleaded, his voice trembling.

“Sorry’s not good enough,” Ethan growled, raising his fist again.

“Ethan, stop!” Emma’s voice rang out, slicing through the chaos. She stormed into the room, her eyes wide with a mix of anger and panic.

Ethan froze, his fist hovering in mid-air, before he slowly turned to face her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, shoving him back with surprising force.

“He humiliated you,” Ethan said, his voice thick with alcohol and anger. “No one gets to disrespect you like that.”

Emma’s eyes softened, but her tone remained firm. “Ethan, you’ve had too much to drink. This isn’t you.”

Ethan’s gaze flickered, uncertainty creeping into his expression. “He deserved it.”

“Maybe,” she said, stepping between them, “but this isn’t how we handle things. You know what happened last time, so back off.”

Ethan’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. His hands fell to his sides, blood from his knuckles smearing against his jeans.

Emma stepped between him and Connor, placing her hands on his chest as if to hold him back. “I can handle myself, Ethan. I don’t need you fighting my battles."

Her words hit him like a slap. He blinked, the fire in his eyes dimming, replaced by something almost like shame.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his shoulders slumping.

She sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “Just… go cool off, okay? And maybe lay off the drinks for the rest of the night.”

Ethan nodded, glancing at Connor, who was still on the floor, before turning and walking out of the room.

I watched him go, my heart pounding. I’d always known Ethan was protective, but seeing him like that so unhinged, so dangerous it was both terrifying and… impressive. He loved his sister fiercely, enough to lose control, and that kind of devotion was rare.

Emma turned to the crowd, her expression weary. “Are you all just going to stand there, or is someone actually going to help me deal with this mess?” 

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. “Right. Let me help you.”

We helped Connor to his feet, though he flinched every time Emma moved too close. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was annoyed.

When we were done, Emma leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. “Thanks for stepping in, dude. He usually doesn’t get like this, but…”

“He loves you,” I said before I could stop myself.

She looked at me, surprised, then nodded. “Yeah. He does. Sometimes too much.”

As I followed her back to the party, I couldn’t help but think about the way Ethan had looked at Connor, like he was ready to tear him apart. It was scary, sure, but there was something about it that I couldn’t shake.

For all his arrogance and charm, Ethan Hayes was more than just a playboy as people assume. He was loyal to the point of madness, and that made him dangerous. But it also made him quit fascinating.

And for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to be the person he cared about that much.

By the time the party started winding down, I was emotionally drained. Zack was still going strong, flirting with a girl who clearly wasn’t interested, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan, about the way he’d protected Emma, the anger in his eyes, the weight of his words. 

As we left, Ethan was leaning against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. 

“See you Monday, Finn,” he said, his voice low. 

I nodded, the sudden butterflies in my stomach doing somersaults. 

Zack and I walked home in silence, the cool night air clearing my head. 

“You okay?” Zack asked eventually. 

“Yeah,” I said, though I wasn’t sure it was true. 

As we turned the corner, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting a text from my mom or maybe Zack sending me a meme. 

Instead, it was a message from an unknown number. 

Did you have fun tonight?

I frowned, my heart racing. 

“Who is it?” Zack asked, peering over my shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” I said, staring at the screen. 

Another message came through. 

You looked good in blue.

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning. 

“Drake?” Zack said, his voice cautious. 

I didn’t answer. My eyes were glued to the screen, the words blurring together as a thousand questions flooded my mind. 

Who had sent the messages? And how did they know what I was wearing?