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“m’not tryna do anything with her,” chris reiterates for what feels like the millionth time. “just gonna see if she wants to… hang out, or somethin’. i don’t fuckin’ know — s’not a big deal though, alright?”

except, it is kind of a big deal

it’s been nearly a week since nick had somehow managed to convince you to come to that party at the frat house, and as much as chris had tried not to — he’s been thinking about you. he’s had a couple brief interactions with you before, but something about you being in his space this time set something off with him, and he’s determined to figure out why.

that’s what he’s telling himself, at least. truthfully, he’d spent the majority of the night watching how you’d followed nick around like a lost puppy, trying to participate in conversations and pretend like you weren’t completely out of your element. it was cute. you’d seriously stuck out like a sore thumb, but chris could admire the fact that you’d even actually showed up in the first place.

chris watches matt and nate share a look that has him rolling his eyes at them. “y’can’t exactly blame us for thinkin’ it’s… weird.” matt shrugs.

“c’mon, dude…” nate presses, that annoying little knowing smirk on his lips that chris can’t stand. “when was the last time you just hung out with a girl?”

chris can only shake his head, a dry chuckle falling from his lips. he knows he doesn’t have any sort of defense. it is weird, and chris honestly can’t remember the last time he had just hung out with a girl without inevitably having her face down ass up in his bed at some point.

but that’s not what chris was going to do. that’s not what he’s planning on doing with nick’s sweet little friend, at least. chris had seen how you’d so politely brushed off every guy that tried to flirt with you at the party, and as much as he wouldn’t necessarily mind being able to say he got you in his bed for any reason — chris wouldn’t do that to you.

he wasn’t a complete asshole, after all.

it’d taken chris a lot longer to get nick to tell him when your last class was today than he would’ve liked. chris wasn’t even sure what his plan was, or what he was really even doing to begin with. yet he’d offered himself up as a model for nick’s photography project to get the information.

when he spots you — your bag slung over your shoulder and eyes downturned as you funnel out of the classroom with everyone else — there’s an unfamiliar “hey, kid,” coming out of his mouth on some sort of instinct.

he watches the way your eyes immediately dart up. your brows twitch slightly, a flicker of confusion flashing over your face as your eyes land on him. he gives you a little wave, that shit-eating smirk on his lips. your own lips curve up into some sweet little smile that makes him feel weird.

pushing off the wall he was leaning against he makes his way over to you, immediately taking your bag from you and slinging it over his own shoulder. “c’mon,” he says, not giving you a chance to question what’s happening before he’s turning and walking away. you fall into step pretty quickly beside him, your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him.

“what are you doing?” he hears you ask, the tone of your voice cautious, suspicious.

chris simply shrugs. “you’re goin’ to that, uh… that little café you like, right?” his eyes briefly flick to you. “that’s what you do, yeah? study there after class almost every day? whole lotta fun you are, kid.”

you huff at him, lips tugging into a petulant little frown. “yes,” you shoot back, all sassy sounding. “but what are you doing?”

he simply shrugs again, unsure of what to tell you when even he doesn’t know what he’s doing. thankfully, you drop it, letting chris steer the conversation to something else on the walk to the café.

he insists on buying you a coffee and a cookie, getting himself a hot chocolate. he’s slapping your hand away when you try to slide your card into the machine, scowling at you. “don’t try that shit again, y’hear me?” he mutters lowly, head dipping down so he can speak into your ear. “m’trying to be a gentleman here.” pinching your side to get his point across, smirking when you quickly nod at him, a little, mumbled agreement and apology falling from your lips.

the two of you take a seat in one of the back booths. chris leans back against the booth, legs spread wide, as his eyes flit over the place. it’s real cute, cozy — very you.

then, his eyes flick to you. you’re clearly nervous. he can tell by the way the pencil shakes slightly in your hand, the way you keep erasing and rewriting the same words in your notes — not happy with the way they look — worried that chris is sitting there judging you because your handwriting is a little messy. your legs bouncing ridiculously fast under the table like you gotta pee or something, mumbling little apologies every time your knees bumps into his.

he keeps his snarky comments to himself, though. starts talking about whatever random bullshit pops into his head in hopes of getting you to chill the fuck out, even a little bit. the last thing he needs is you having some sort of panic attack just because he’s here.

it works. slowly.

you start to loosen up, relax a little. humming in response every few seconds to let him know you’re listening, an occasional “mhm” or “really?” — even letting out soft huffs of laughter, until you’re eventually forgetting about your studying altogether and focused solely on chris. leaned back against the booth drinking your coffee and splitting your cookie with him, giving him those soft smiles that make chris feel almost nervous.

keeping up his whole gentleman thing, insisting on walking you back to your dorm since it’s getting dark out. talking about it just not being safe, and then something like “someone would snatch up a pretty girl like you real fuckin’ quick. then it’d be a whole thing cause i’d be the last person seen with you — and i just don’t wanna deal with that right now, y’know? would hate for one of those netflix documentaries to be made about you.” he doesn’t miss the way you try to bite back that little smile on your lips.

there’s something about the thought of you walking around campus late at night that makes his insides twist. he knows you’re not stupid. you’re just so… you. too fuckin’ sweet and nice.

he’s walking you all the way to your dorm room, leaning against the doorframe.

“thank you for, uh… everything?” you murmur softly, smiling up at him as you tilt your head to the side. he can see the way your eyes narrow slightly, just like they’d done earlier — all cautious and suspicious still. “i had fun.”

chris hums, murmuring a “yeah? good.” straightening up, he pauses when you reach out, grabbing his bicep.

“oh, wait!” you turn to your desk, scribbling down something on a little piece of scrap paper quickly. chris raises his brows, taking the piece of paper from you when you turn back around and hand it to him. “can you text me when you get back to the frat house? please? gonna be worried about you walking back on your own…” and chris can’t help that shit-eating smirk from settling on his lips.

he chuckles softly, nodding his head as he tucks your number into his front pocket. “yeah, kid — i can do that.”

there’s already a little frown settling on your lips the second you step into the frat house. it stinks — the smell of weed, booze, and sweaty bodies making your nose scrunch up in disgust. the music is so loud, the people are somehow louder, and your anxiety is at an all time high.

you don’t do frat parties. or, well, you don’t do parties at all, really. nothing about them appeals to you in the slightest, but nick managed to wear down for once. whined and practically pleaded with you about coming to his brothers’ frat party tonight, until you were saying ‘yes’ just to get him to shut up about it.

except, now you were actually here, and you were regretting your answer immediately.

your eyes almost frantically scan the main section of the frat house, desperate to spot nick, but they land on a different familiar face first — matt — and it’s like an immediate wave of calm washes over you. he’s already looking at you, a friendly smile on his face as he waves you over.

“hey, kid.” matt greets you once you manage to make your way over to him — squeezing through the little crowds of people, mumbling soft apologies and thank you’s when people move out of the way for you. he offers you a small side hug which you accept. “didn’t think nick was serious when he said you were comin’.”

“well, nick can be very… nick, y’know?” you smile softly, and the amused look on matt’s face makes it clear he does know.

your eyes flick to chris who’s standing just a few feet behind matt, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the two of you. you know chris, obviously, but you’ve never actually talked to him. never really had a reason to, and any interaction you have had with him has merely been in passing when hanging out with nick or matt. he’s like… the frat guy of all frat guys — and that’s besides the fact that he’s frat president.

you give him a little wave that he returns, and you swear you can feel his gaze slowly dragging over the length of you, and you nervously shift on your feet under the scrutiny of it. his attention gets pulled away when some girl slings her arms around his neck, pouting all pretty at him and whining to him about something.

your eyes flick back to matt, “um, so d’you know where nick is?” you thank him when he points you in the direction of nick, stopping to chat with nate briefly when he comes up to you, pulling you in for a hug and giving you almost the same, “hey, kid,” that matt had given you.

for the record, you really do try your best to ignore your anxiety. but it’s hard when it’s making you feel like you want to cry or throw up — maybe both? — and following nick around like some sad little lost puppy the whole time, desperately trying to engage in the conversations, isn’t necessarily helping. and nick can tell.

you lamely try to assure him that you’re fine when he, very bluntly, points out the fact that you’re anxious, and not apparently not doing a good job at all at hiding it.

“maybe you need a drink?” nick suggests, cocking his head at you. “don’t gotta get crazy, or anything. just somethin’ to help you relax a little.”

you agree with a heavy sigh, though it’s reluctant. you do assure nick you’ll be fine walking the ten feet to the kitchen on your own.

walking past a group of frat brothers taking up one of the couches, one of them reaches out, managing to hook a finger around one of your belt loops. your eyes flick from his hand to his face as he gives the loop a tug, wanting you closer. “want a hit, baby? look tense as hell.” the guy points out, eyes dragging over you. he tugs a little more incessantly when you don’t immediately budge. he holds the joint out in your direction, practically trying to shove it into your fingers as you pull your hand away from his. “c’mon, s’good shit — make you feel real good.”

you open your mouth to stutter out some sort of nervous response, anything to get this guy to let up, but there’s an arm wrapping around your waist and a fruity flavored seltzer being placed in your hand. your eyes snap to chris beside you, watching as he takes the joint from the guys outstretched hand and places it between his lips. he doesn’t say anything — simply jerks his head at the guy, a shit-eating smirk settling on his lips as he watches him and his friends immediately scurry off the couch and disappear into the kitchen.

chris’ arm slips from around your waist as he plops down on the couch. he leans back, legs spreading wide as he takes a short puff of the joint. he takes the joint from between his lips, letting it sit between his fingers as he crooks a finger at you, beckoning you closer.

and for whatever reason, for him, you do move — stepping towards him on unsure feet until you’re standing between his spread legs. when you’re close enough, he’s reaching up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you eye level with him.

“you don’t go wanderin’ around here without one of us again, got it?” chris says, his voice serious. you can’t tell if he’s just messing with you — trying to scare you cause he knows it’d be easy — or if he’s genuinely worried about you.

when you don’t respond quick enough he’s squeezing your jaw a little tighter. “got it?” he asks again, firmer this time.

you’re immediately nodding your head, lips tugging into a small pout. “yes!” you assure him, cheeks growing warm under his gaze. “i got it…”

“good girl.” chris mockingly praises, giving your cheek a soft, condescending pat. he puts the joint back between his lips, releasing your jaw with a gentle shove. “now go find nick and drink your fruity little seltzer,” he tells you, nodding towards the seltzer in your hand. that shit-eating smirk is back on his lips, “and relax, yeah? have some fun. you’re at a party, after all.”