#like you know kris and...rolling like..yeah.

Your roommate was a junior too, though one who was clearly established at Sumpter and unhappy that you were there. Still, she shook your hand and nodded as you gave your name. "Hannah." She introduced herself. "I, uh… didn't really think you were gonna really come here."

You glanced at the dorm room, which was already entirely decorated. "I gathered that."

"I'll take things down on your half at some point." Hannah said, leaning back in her desk chair as she popped a bubble in her gum. "Been a while since I've had a roomie."

You shifted your backpack on your shoulder, awkwardly sidling to your side of the room. "Any particular reason for that?"

Hannah shrugged. "Sumpter kinda eats people up sometimes." She flashed you a smile that felt entirely insincere. "I'm sure you'll be different!"

You shifted on your feet and tossed your items on your side of the room. You'd dealt with bad roommates before. You could deal with it.

Colleges weren't nice to you once you weren't a freshman anymore. They'd welcome you in just fine with emails and set-ups, but then they clapped you on the back and sent you sprawling into the world.

You were glad for the schedule at first. You kept your head down and devoted yourself to learning where your classes were before you focused on anything else. The first two weeks were practically dust for you as you adjusted your sleep schedule and stumbled through the campus like a very lost zombie.

After the first two weeks, you finally got your footing, and you were able to start paying attention to things outside of class and self-sustinence.

Frats, for instance. Frats and sororities were everywhere at Sumpter.

You'd thought it was just very close-knit friend groups at first, but then you'd noticed the rest. They all dressed similar. The guys smelled of weed half the time. They all disappeared on weekends, and you'd begun to recognize the chapter houses. Three weeks into college, a group of frat boys set fire to a classroom on accident and you were pretty sure they got expelled.

You hadn't exactly realized you'd chosen a college with Greek life. Your last college had stuff like that, sure, but it wasn't as widespread or as… rich as these people seemed to be.

You asked Hannah about it reluctantly one night, as the two of you worked on your separate class deadlines.

"Oh, yeah." Hannah nodded. "Frats are the thing here. Some of them are, like, really shitty, but some frats and sororities are cool. I've got some friends from EXI who are pretty cool."

"What."

She shot you a look, rolling her eyes. "You can't tell me you've never gone to a frat party or something."

"I've been to parties!" You protested. "It's been a while, and I haven't been somewhere with… this much influence."

"Yeah, there's some rich dicks congregating around some of those frats." Hannah shrugged. "I can't complain, honestly—it makes for better parties. They throw some bangers year-round, but you gotta know the right places to go."

You wrinkled your nose. "I wasn't really asking so I could go to frat parties. I have better ways to spend my weekends."

Hannah shrugged and turned back to her laptop. "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it." She shot you a glance from the corner of her eye, half-skeptical, but coaxing. "I'm going to a party at a house on Friday night. You should come."

"I'll think about it." You said slowly. "No promises."

You did think about it. Thought about it way too much. You didn't know why the hell you were even considering it—this was supposed to be a new start. Sumpter had been your opportunity to get away from all of this. You could focus on your degree. Foster your hobby in journalism. Maybe join a few normal clubs. You shouldn't even be entertaining the idea of introducing yourself to that world, that life.

But you were a junior. A goddamn adult who only had a bit of college time left. Didn't everyone deserve a chance to keep having fun? Nevermind that you hadn't been to a party since you were a freshman. You'd nearly been through a month of school and you were already feeling kind of miserable. Maybe a party would make you feel better. And you liked being nosy.

Friday night rolled around and you watched, half-mortified, as Hannah applied enough perfume for five people onto her body. "This seems hazardous."

"It's part of the fun." She checked her face in a mirror, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she cast a glance at you. "Is that really what you're wearing?"

You glanced down at your outfit. You wore a graphic t-shirt and pants. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"It's not exactly a party outfit."

"I didn't know there were dress codes for a party." You said, shooting a narrow-eyed glance at your roommate.

"The fun part of parties is dressing up and letting loose a little." Hannah applied yet another layer of lipstick to her lips, which was either layer three or four. "I mean, come on, are you even coming to party if you don't dress up?"

"I never said I was going to party." You said. "I'm… investigating."

Hannah sighed. "You're a lost cause."

The Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity house would probably be less chaotic if a bomb went off inside of it.

The two of you had walked, and already approaching on the sidewalk you could hear the sounds of the party approaching, like the energy inside the house was seeping out the doors. A drunken, giggling group of girls stumbled past the two of you, smelling like alcohol and smoke, and you wrinkled your nose slightly, watching them pass.

"Weaklings," Hannah said in a sing-song tone. "It's not even midnight yet, that's no attitude to have."

As the two of you neared the house, you craned your neck slightly, watching light pour out of the windows along with some upbeat pop song. Definitely a giant charter house, deeply impressive and entirely intimidating.

You bit down the are you sure this is a good idea? as the two of you ascended the stairs. Hannah tossed her hair over her shoulder as she nudged into the house, and you blinked as you were suddenly bathed in a wash of lights, people, and loud music.

There were people everywhere. The charter house was huge, plenty of empty space and chairs to lounge in. People were talking, drinking, dancing. There was beer pong somewhere. It was like every party you'd attended in your freshman year, except it was cranked up to a million.

"Holy shit," you mumbled. "This is… insane."

"Told you they have great parties." Hannah said smugly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Not really what I was going for—"

"Alright, well, have fun babe, I'm gonna go find my gals." Hannah made a kissy sound, and you turned to look at her, a protest on your tongue, but it died as you immediately lost track of her.

"Hannah? Hannah?" You tried to glance where she'd gone, but there was no sign of her among the crowd. You swore and stepped out of the entryway before someone tried to run you over.

You weren't really sure where to go or where to look. You figured upstairs was pretty much restricted—common sense told you that much—but even that small rule barely closed things off enough for you. Every room seem like it held twice the amount of people than the last one. More beer, more chaos, more music pumping through your head and giving you the world's most blessed headache.

Maybe it had been a mistake to come here.

You we beginning to consider just leaving, going home, and popping some Advil. At least you could say you tried. It wasn't a crime to give up.

Your train of thought was interrupted by you stumbling over two guys who were laying facedown in a hallway, half-conscious and talking to each other about pasta shapes.

"No, but, dude, there's that one, that's… that's sooo good because it can hold all the sauce… and it's all… it's all fuckin' twirly like a… like a screw."

"That's what—" the other guy hiccuped. "—she said."

"You mean cavatappi?" You offered from where you were watching them, half amused and half worried.

"Oh shiiiit, yeah! Cavatappi!" The first guy frog blinked up at you. "You get it, lady. No one in KNA appreciates good pasta. It's like, perfect for the sauce. I loveeee sauce. Sauce is so yummy. Oh, man, sauce. So many kinds of sauce, it, like, blows my mind."

So they were part of KNA. You were sure they were KNA's very best, considering how high in the sky they were. You wondered if all frats similarly hosted parties like this, where their members could go catatonic on the floor.

"You guys don't look very comfortable." You said slowly. "I don't suppose I could, like, help you to some chairs…? Maybe your beds…?"

"Holy fuck, you gotta be an angel." The second guy said. "We're roomies, we've got—uh—we've got a room in the house. And beds in the room in the house. Somewhere."

"Somewhere." You repeated slowly. You regretted what you were about to ask, but you sighed, squared up, and decided to be a good person. "Let me help you guys up and we can go find it."

Pasta guy was named Marcus. The other was Drew. The two of them told you about five different times each as the three of you stumbled through the party as you tried to locate the stairs.

"Ooo, beer." Drew tried to leave, eyes drawn to a table of drinks, and you grabbed him and yanked him back.

"I'm gonna lose you if you have any more beer. Nuh-uh."

You imagined this was what it was like to handle seals. The two of them were taller than you and as floppy as could be, tangles of limbs that didn't work and minds that got distracted at the drop of a dime. By some miracle, the three of you finally made your way upstairs in the chapter house.

Things were… calmer up here. You could still hear the music from downstairs (more seeping through the floors than anything) but aside from passing rooms where people were clearly having sex, things were surprisingly decent up there.

"Okay, do either of you recognize anything?" You asked planatively. At some point, you'd ended up half carrying them, their arms slung over your shoulders as they stumbled along the hallways with you. "Do you, like, got a sign for your room or…?"

"Um. I don't know." Drew squinted around at his surroundings blearily. "Hell, havin' a room is crazy…"

"You said you live here." You deadpanned.

"We do!" Marcus insisted. "Just—uhh, I think… uhhh—"

"You lost?"

You blinked, turning your head over your shoulder at the third voice. Approaching down the hallway was another guy, a dress shirt rolled up at the elbows and sunglasses balanced on his head despite it being dark out. He was… attractive. Not that you normally paid attention to guys right off the bat, but he at the very least looked familiar with the place, which was reassuring.

"Yoooo, Prez!" Drew shouted out, waving a loose hand. "Was wonderin' where you were, man."

Prez. President. Your eyes flicked over the guy as he stopped in front of the three of you, an amused curl to his lips.

"Have a bit too much, boys?" He drawled, his eyes passing between the three of you.

"Dude, whoever brought that shit tonight, we gotta have 'em back. Because, like, mannnn—" Marcus waved a hand. "This shit is great. I was talkin' about how much I love pasta, like, the corkscrew pasta—"

"Rotini?" The guy asked slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, shit, this chick said cavatappi, was I talkin' about rotini or cavatappi?" Marcus mumbled, glancing at you. You offered a shrug, then glanced at the man in front of you, who looked like he was fighting back a laugh.

"Need some help?" He offered, speaking to you now.

Your shoulders eased as you nodded. "God, yes."

The two of you worked together to lead the unlucky souls to their room. You had never been more thankful to have your shoulders free of weight as the two guys dropped onto their separate beds.

"Night, you two. Don't have me tuck you in again," your savior called into the room, receiving half-conscious grumbles before he closed the door.

The two of you stood in the hallway for a moment in silence. Music was still blasting downstairs, the echo of it filling the awkward silence between the two of you.

"… thanks," you said after a moment. "for helping. They're kind of heavy."

"There's nothing worse than some assholes high as kites." The guy agreed, lips twitching. "Appreciate you tryin' to look out for them."

"Yeah, well, they were laying on the floor, I didn't want people stepping on them." You said with a small laugh.

The man tilted his head, folding his arms over his chest as he studied you. You shifted slightly under his gaze, and the vague smile on his lips widened, a spark of recognition in his gaze.

"You're in Prof. Anderson's social studies, aren't you?"

You blinked. "I—yeah, I am." You squinted. "I know this sounds terrible, but I swear to God I've never seen you before."

He actually laughed at that, the sound so pleasant it made a sheepish smile come to your face.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect that, I sit in a top corner." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Good to know I have an unintrusive presence."

"I mean, I might've noticed you before," You protested, fighting back your own smile. "I just—the last few weeks, I've felt like a zombie. It's my first year here."

"I was thinkin' that I hadn't seen you around before." The man said with a hum. He extended his hand—and Jesus, his hands were big. You mentally slapped yourself for unconsciously noticing such a thing.

"Todd Stevens." He introduced himself with a smile. "Fellow classmate."

You smiled a little, taking his hand and introducing yourself. "Well, hi there, fellow classmate. You come here often?"

"I live in this house."

"Yeah, I got that idea." You glanced around the hallway, shifting slightly as you turned your gaze to him. "So… KNA, huh?"

Todd looked permanently amused as he watched you, and you couldn't decide if you liked it or not. It did make your stomach flip slightly, something warm in your chest blooming that you tried to ignore.

"Not a party gal?" He asked.

You hummed. "I, uh, got invited by my roommate. And promptly abandoned the second we stepped in through the door."

Todd gestured a hand in the direction of all the noise. "And what do you think?"

You wrinkled your noise slightly as the bass of a song pounded through the house, the ground vibrating beneath your feet. "… it's loud." You said after a moment.

"Ah. How descriptive." Todd leaned against the wall as he looked down at you. "You seem like the kinda person who could appreciate a well-planned party."

"Well, you've just met me, how could you know what I like?" You shot back.

"Oh, we're guessing now, are we?" Todd raised an eyebrow, a spark of challenge in his gaze, and he hummed as he gestured to you. "Okay, let me see here. You're more inclined to work nice and hard on your studies, passing the days in your dorm room while you keep your head down. You came to Sumpter to escape some shit from your last college, and you're not fully inexperienced with this area of college life, but it's been a while, and you feel guilty about bein' curious." He paused, eyes sweeping over you. "And you like animals." He added.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking as the silence stretched. Downstairs, the music was blaring lyrics—So I put my hands up, they're playing my song, the butterflies fly awayyyyy—but you just felt a little surprised and a little more uneasy at the assumptions Todd had made. Assumptions that were all correct.

"What a lucky guess." You said after a moment.

Todd snorted. "Is that what we're calling it? You aren't that mysterious, sweetheart."

The pet name. Oh, man, were you done for? You glared at him, but it was a little halfhearted even as you started to shift down the hallway.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, this has been fun, but I'm calling it a night and turning in."

"You afraid of letting go a little?" Todd followed you, hands stuffed in his pockets, perfectly nice arms on full display. "You're, what, a junior, I'm guessing? Don't you wanna get some fun in before college is over?"

"I came tonight to just… survey." You said as he fell into step next to you, gradually raising your voice as the two of you grew closer to the main party. "I've surveyed."

"It's no fun if you act like just some kinda bystander." Todd drawled. "Halloween's comin' up, my guys throw great Halloween parties."

You rolled your eyes. "Christ, you're persistent."

"I'm just worried about a fellow classmate's well-being." Todd said innocently, though the grin on his face gave him away. Without thinking, you slapped at his arm, and his grin only spread wider as the two of you descended the stairs. Noise, people, and the smell of various substances were thrown in your face, and you wrinkled your nose.

Todd leaned down, speaking into your ear over the noise. "Just think about it." He murmured, the proximity making your shoulders hike. "First Halloween-themed party's next week, same time, on Saturday night."

He was leaning back up before you could say anything. He pointed through the crowd, and you blinked. The door. Right. You could leave.

"See you in class." Todd called with some small, knowing smirk on his face before he faded into the crowd like he'd never been there in the first place.

You watched him go, then sighed and pushed through the crowd into the crisp late September air. Time to walk back to the dorms, you thought glumly, as you left the energetic air of the KNA frat house behind you.

You didn't talk to Hannah for a few days, nor did she ask about how the party went for you. You were silently fuming about it, yet decided to not show it at all. You had more to focus on, anyways. Weekends were weekends, yes, but there was always work to be done, and once the week started up again you needed to focus on your work.

Still, some part of you was dreading social studies. You had the class Tuesdays and Fridays, 2:00-2:50 sharp. Your teacher, Mr. Anderson, was a harsh grader and even before knowing of Todd's existence in the class, you'd been nearly banging your head against a wall after every lecture you'd been to the last few weeks.

Tuesday, you sat down in your normal spot, taking out supplies and keeping your head down as people slowly filed in. Before class started and the sound of doors opening and closing had died down, you slowly peeked over your shoulder at the corners of the class. Though peeking over your left shoulder yielded nothing, when you turned over your right shoulder you spotted Todd. He hadn't been lying yesterday—he was probably as far away from the bottom of the room as he could be, leaning back in his chair with a look of ease as he idly fidgeted with a pencil.

You caught his gaze. He raised an eyebrow down at you and smirked a little, raising two fingers in a little wave. Slightly mortified at being caught, you swiveled your head back to your work in front of you, trying to fight back the wave of heat rising up your neck.

After class, you were walking, a granola bar stuffed in your mouth as you tapped at your phone.

"You look a bit disorganized."

You glanced up. Todd was falling into step next to you, a backpack tossed over his shoulder as he watched you. You took the granola bar out of your mouth, swallowed a bit, and frowned.

"What's it to you?"

"Oh, nothing." He blew out a breathy chuckle. "Was just expecting you to have your shit a bit more together for someone who blows off parties for your studies."

You frowned. "You're President of KNA. You've got more responsibilites than parties and you know it."

"Well, yeah, but I have fun too." He nudged you gently with his arm. "Don't you have fun?"

"I watch movies sometimes."

"I like Gladiator." Todd offered, sounding a bit like a hopeful puppy. You almost laughed.

"Yeah, I bet you do."

Todd grinned. "What's that supposed to mean? You doubtin' my tastes here?"

"No, I—" You huffed, stopping to turn and face him. "What are you trying to get at here?"

A different expression crossed Todd's face for a moment. He tilted his head, his features softening as the smirk slipped away. "Beg your pardon?"

"You. Your angle." You gestured to him. "What are you looking for, exactly? Quick fuck? Hookup? Academic help moochin' off a classmate?"

Todd looked at you quietly for a moment, his thumb lightly rubbing at a strap of his backpack. He took in a slow breath and took a small step closer, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you didn't step back, even though he'd crowded in slightly.

"Do you believe the worst of everybody you meet?" He asked, his voice quieter.

"I don't exactly know or trust you yet."

He studied you. "You don't like frats."

"That's simplifying things a bit, I think." You replied.

"Okay. Let's start over." Todd drew himself up very straight and started to tick things off his fingers. "I am not looking for a quick fuck. I am not looking for a hookup. I am not looking for drugs. I am not looking to give you drugs. I am not looking to, as you put it, mooch off of you, though I think Anderson's fuckin' nuts with his classes and wouldn't mind a study friend."

You stared at him for a long moment. "… I suppose that clears things up a little." You said finally.

"Your turn." Todd said, gesturing to you.

"My turn for what?"

"What do you want?" He asked, very patiently, like this wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to you in forever.

It would have been easy to open your mouth and say that you wanted him to leave you alone. You actually thought he would do it, too, if you said so. It would have been so easy.

But you paused, eyes scanning over him. Thoughts ran through your head, quiet and quick. Hannah and you hadn't talked in days. She wasn't even nice, you barely liked her. College so far had been rough and isolating and lonely.

And God, you were so lonely. You couldn't force yourself to join any clubs, couldn't bring yourself to reach out to anything involving your hobbies. You were trapped in a cycle of schoolwork, homework, and the odd work hours that you were picking up at a nearby restaurant.

You exhaled very slowly. "His class does suck."

Todd smiled a tiny bit. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You couldn't believe what you were doing, but you unlocked your phone and passed it to him. "Put your number in. I'm free after class on Friday."

Todd's smile widened, the vaguest look of delighted surprise in his eyes, but he wordlessly took the phone, his big fingers tapping over the screen as he stood close. You took the moment to take him in—tall and muscled, a slope to his nose and stubble on his jaw.

"Lucky you," Todd murmured. "because I'm free too."

"Fabulous." He handed your phone back, and you took it, before you held out your other hand. "Study buddies."

He took your hand and shook it, slow and firm, a mock-serious expression on your face that sent another little tingle through your chest.

"Study buddies." He repeated firmly. "See you Friday, study buddy."

"Sounds good. Now, I'm gonna be late to work." You stuffed your phone in your pocket and gripped your granola bar tight. "Later, Stevens."

He just grinned as you sped past him.

"No, but, his class is bullshit, because why are we covering five expansive topics this week alone and he won't tell us which one's gonna be on the quiz?"

You laughed. "He said two were gonna be on the quiz."

Todd's face dropped. "Oh, fuck, did he?"

You just laughed harder, and he scowled teasingly at you, tossing a balled-up scrap of paper at your head. "Stop laughing, this is serious!"

"What the hell do you even do in class?" You said, still laughing. "I mean, he told us like three times, do you even pay attention?"

"I've got a lot on my mind." Todd protested, frowning as he thumbed through his noted like he could see where he'd gone wrong.

"Like what?"

"Like the party tomorrow night that kicks off the Halloween season." His gaze flicked up to yours. "The one you should come to."

You paused.

The two of you sat in Sumpter's library, which both you and Todd were unacquainted with. You hadn't been able to stop yourself from teasing him—what, you're a senior and you've hardly been to the library?—and he had flicked your forehead and told you to shut up.

The studying had gone good so far. You were reluctant to admit it to yourself, but you had looked forward to the occasion for the rest of the week and you'd been having a good time. Studying didn't feel so bad when someone else was shouldering the burden, even if that someone was some vaguely annoying and incredibly charming frat president.

You brought yourself back to the current conversation. "Have you been waiting to spring that on me the whole time?"

Todd's lips curled up, that dim sparkle showing up in his gaze again. "You make me sound like some kind of mastermind."

"You aren't helping your case by smiling like that, you know." You leaned back in your chair, tapping your pencil on the table in front of you. "Why exactly should I go tomorrow, huh? As I recall, last week I wandered around the KNA house, helped your two stoned children, and then promptly left."

"And you met me."

"And I met you." You agreed, rolling your eyes. "But seriously, why should I show up?"

"Halloween is a whole other deal." Todd leaned forward, arms on the table as he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Costumes galore… decorations… themed parties… people pull out their best shit this time of year."

"Does it not get rowdy?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." He said with absolutely way too much confidence, though there was something slightly reassuring about how definitively he said it. Which you would never admit, of course.

You sighed. "I don't have a costume."

"Well, it's not required until Halloween, mind you." Todd said. "Me, personally, I'm gonna be wearing my normal fuckin' clothes."

He shot you a look that looked vaguely hopeful. "Does that mean you're coming?"

You pointed very firmly at the notes spread over the table, tapping your pencil on the papers. "I'm not going until we both finish this damn assignment, Todd."

He grinned and took the pencil from your hand. "Yes, ma'am."

You tried not to let your stomach flutter. It was a futile effort.

"I'm sorry, so we haven't spoken in a week yet now you're butting in on my partying again?" Hannah was giving you a skeptical, curled-lip look as the two of you walked down the sidewalk towards KNA. "You're a fuckin' buzzkill."

"How the hell am I a buzzkill? You abandoned me last week and I'm sure you're gonna do the same tonight!" You objected as you glared at her.

"Well, yeah, duh, but I don't want to be linked back to you." Hannah rolled her eyes. "I don't want people to be like 'oh, that's your roommate?' I've got a reputation to keep. You should, like, head to another frat, there's one just down the block." She smacked her lips. "By the way, I intend on getting laid tonight by this guy I've been talking to, so, y'know, keep that in mind when you're headed home."

"Please don't have sex in our dorm." You said, a little planatively.

Hannah flicked you the middle finger as she jogged up the steps to KNA and immediately slipped into the crowd.

You could immediately spot the difference in KNA from last week. Not only was the entire front of KNA littered with Halloween decorations, but Monster Mash was playing at the highest possible volume from the inside of the house. As you walked up the steps, your eyes flicked to a skeleton draped in a half-broken lawn chair, a KNA shirt over its frame and lipstick marks smudged on its plastic face.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly went inside.

"HE DID THE MASH!!"

The inside of KNA looked like a frat version of a haunted house. Giant fake spiders were crudely hung on the walls, caution tape and spiderwebs hanging from any available fixture, Halloween music in the air. There had been some kind of setup that was making the lights change color—as you glanced up, they went from orange to purple, and a few people cheered.

You stumbled for a few moments, nearly running into somebody in one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes (really?), before you yanked out your phone and tapped at your messages with the air of someone desperate for a familiar face.

I'm here where are you

You huddled in your corner and glared at your screen before a text popped up.

I'm coming to you.

I saw you hit that dinosaur :)

You flushed, thankful that the very colorful lights would hide it, and started to text back a furious response.

"No reason to do that, I'm here."

You jumped slightly and swung your gaze up to glare at Todd, who had appeared from thin air. "Who the fuck brings in an inflatable dinosaur costume?"

"Because it's awesome. I told you, people like to wear costumes early." Todd watched the inflatable dinosaur dance a little bit, and bit on his lip, looking like he was trying not to laugh. "You'll be even more pleased when you meet the KNA mascot."

You raised a very slow eyebrow. "The KNA what."

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned closer to you, smiling as he spoke. "I'm glad you came."

The sincerity struck you right in the chest. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." He smiled, eyes flicking over your face. "I would be lost without my study buddy."

You sighed, but it was halfhearted, and you could tell he knew. Damn Todd Stevens, you thought, and damn your own stupid ass for liking him so much already.

"So. I'm here at your party. As you wanted." You gestured around vaguely as you shoved that feeling in your chest down. "You gonna show me why KNA parties are the best?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Todd said with a grin. "Follow me."

You were given, as Todd put it, the VIP showoff of the KNA chapter house. It turned out it was ten times easier to know where you were when someone was showing you around, no matter how chaotic the party around you was.

All the better, too, that Todd was KNA's president. Everywhere you went, someone was calling him Prez, slapping him on the back, tossing you a glance and then looking away just as quick like it would be a crime to even acknowledge you. Todd was a firm, entirely knowledgable presence. This wasn't just KNA's party, this was his party, and everyone knew it.

"Stevens! Yo!"

"Well, there you are, was wondering where you'd gotten off to." Todd clasped hands and clapped the back of a younger guy who looked freshman age. He turned to you, an arm slung over the freshman's back. "I'd like you to meet Gettys O'Brien. Very good friend of mine. He's new to Sumpter too."

"Surely you aren't a freshman." Gettys said as he squinted at you.

"God, no, I am not, thankfully." You stuck out your hand. "Nice to meet you, Gettys."

He shook your hand, smiling a little. "How's Sumpter been treating you?"

"Probably the exact same it's been treating you."

Gettys snorted, shaking his head. "God, I can't even tell you how much that's true. Lemme tell ya, though—" He nudged Todd with his elbow. "—having known Todd makes it a lot easier, considering his experience."

"His experience, uh, fucking around at parties?" You said, tilting your head.

Both Todd and Gettys stared at you for a moment before both of them barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, shit, I guess that is some of his experience." Gettys said,. "I mean, hell, he's got more to him than just parties, ya know—"

Someone slammed into you from the back. You yelped, stumbling and nearly being knocked headfirst into a table, but Todd was there, arm suddenly grabbing you and pulling you up.

"Shit, you alright?" Gettys was asking, but you had no time to respond before an unfamiliar face was right in front of you.

"Aw damn, baby, didn't mean to slam into you like that." A guy who looked a bit younger than you but older than Gettys was leering down at you, clearly drunk out of his mind. "Pretty thing like you, though? No wonder you were knockin' me off my feet."

"No problem." You said, avoiding his gaze.

"Hey, really, I can get you a drink if you want," the guy said. "I'd be honored to pay for my mistakes, ya know? A drink, a dance, a date?"

"No thank you."

His expression hardened slightly. "Hey, I'm just trying to be nice after slamming into you—"

"I think I heard a no." This was Todd, who you realized was still touching you as he gently pulled you back by your shoulder. Your back hit his chest slightly, but you were relieved for the backup. "Wouldn't you say so, Gettys?"

"Yeah, yup, I heard a no too." Gettys moved slightly in front of you, squinting up at the guy. "Hey, aren't you that dickward from the frat down the block? Thought you fellas didn't like KNA territory."

"How about you mind your own fucking business?" The guy snapped down at Gettys. "You fucking KNA assholes think you're so cool, having all the best times around here. Just lemme take a pretty fuckin' girl off your hands once and awhile, huh?"

"It's a party." Todd's voice was hardening. "Not a sale."

"Who the hell do you think you are, anyways?" The guy sneered at him.

"Try the president of KNA." Todd's hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, and you glanced up to see him giving a cold look to the man you hadn't seen before on his face. Your stomach stilled slightly, but he didn't look at you.

"Get out." He said firmly. "Out of my house. Now."

"Fuck you, motherfucker!" The guy shouted, sticking a middle finger in Todd's face as he drifted towards the door. "You and your fucking whore, fuck both of you!"

You flinched slightly at that, gaze tightening, but you stayed silent until the guy disappeared around a corner. Only then did you release a breath, glancing up at Todd to find him looking down at you.

"You good?"

"Fine. Thanks. Both of you." You shot Gettys a glance too, and he nodded.

"You stay with Gettys for a hot second, alright?" Todd squeezed your shoulder and then released it. "I'm gonna make sure that dick actually left. Tell some of the boys to keep an eye out and make sure he doesn't come back in."

"Okay." You nodded a little. "Thanks." You said again, though you weren't really sure why. An uneasy feeling was still in your stomach, but it sank away a little as Todd shot you a reassuring look and disappeared into the crowd.

Gettys seemed to recover from the incident quicker than you. "What a dick. That's what happens when you get named Trevor." He turned to you. "You like beer pong?"

"I like watching beer pong." You said slowly, still recovering. It felt like Todd's hand was still on your shoulder, big and comforting.

Gettys seemed oblivious to this. "Cool with me. Come watch me beat some asshats."

Things were easy for awhile. You weren't sure how much time had passed—ten minutes? An hour?—yet you found you didn't care. You didn't drink anything, but some girl from a nearby sorority had baked cookies and you were kind of hungry, so you ate four chocolate chip cookies and watched Gettys O'Brien absolutely obliterate people at beer pong. You had to begrudgingly admit it—this party was fun. Though you missed Todd.

By the time you had the mind to check your phone, you blanched at the time. It was past one in the morning and you had work tomorrow afternoon. You glanced up, searching over the beer pong table to find Gettys.

"Hey!" You called, catching his gaze. Gettys blinked and wandered to you.

"I've gotta go," you said over the music. "I've got work in the morning, I need to get some sleep."

"Damn, you sure?" Gettys frowned. "I'm sure Todd's gonna be upset he missed you."

"And I'm sure I'll see him soon."

Gettys snorted. "Yeah, yeah, you're probably right. Nice seein' you?"

You nodded. "Nice meeting you. I'll see you around, Gettys."

It was easier navigating KNA now. Though the energy had lulled a little from earlier, things were still active. People were lounging more now, exchanging stories and crude jokes. You slipped by more than a few people making out against walls.

Just as you turned a corner, you spotted a familiar face. "Hannah?"

Your roommate was sitting dejectedly on the floor, stained mascara running down her face. When she saw you, she sniffed and turned her face away.

"Go away." She mumbled.

"What happened?" You asked, crouching down in front of her.

Hannah sniffled. "That dick I was talking to brought some other girl home."

"Oh." You paused and summoned some sympathy. "I'm… very sorry to hear that." You cleared your throat. The silence lingered for a moment. "I'm headed back home, wanna come with?"

She nodded and wiped at her tears. You offered her a shitty Halloween napkin that had been shoved in your pocket, and she accepted it, dabbing lightly at her face. It didn't fix much, but it didn't look as bad either.

"Come on." You offered, holding out your hand and helping her up. Hannah was clearly drunk and unhappy, and you weren't planning on leaving her like this no matter how much of an asshole she'd been to you before.

As the two of you moved to the door, another face stopped you in your tracks. Todd was stepping back into the entrance of the house, his eyes latching onto you immediately and widening slightly.

"You're leaving?" He asked. His gaze flicked to Hannah, then back to you. "Do you have a habit of picking up strays or something?"

"This is my roommate." You said, flat but amused. "Where the hell were you?"

"Some asshole threw up on some cars and decorations out front and I had to break up a fight." Todd grumbled, running an aggravated hand through his hair. Just as you were raising a skeptical eyebrow at him, the door opened and in staggered a guy with a bruise already forming on his face.

"Yo, Stevens, where we keep the ice packs again?"

Todd sighed. "The kitchen freezer, Daniel, where the fuck else?"

"Thanks, man." The guy hobbled off, and you swung your gaze back to Todd with a look of disbelief.

He was giving you a look you couldn't read. "Did you have fun?" He asked finally, voice a little quieter.

You found your shoulders easing. You nodded, even as Hannah sniffled into the napkin next to you. "Yeah." You said softly. "I did."

"Does that mean I'll be seeing you here next week?" Todd asked, tilting his head with a smile.

You smiled back, feeling a little foolish but entirely too warm inside to care. "Let's see when we need to study next first."

"Mmm. A hard bargain." He stepped closer, lowering his voice into your ear. "Guess I'll see you Tuesday, then, sweetheart."

He brushed past you with a grin. "Get home safe." He said, voice all low and rough.

You watched him go with a flutter in your chest.

Hannah blew into her napkin again with a huff. "Can you stop rubbing your blooming romance in my face and get us home?"

"It's not—" You huffed. "Yes, sorry, come on."

The two of you chatted idly on your way home. Hannah was much more tolerable when her ego had taken a blow, and you selfishly couldn't decide if you liked her this way or not. October air pressed soft and crisp against your skin. You'd given your jacket to a barely-clad Hannah, so you were a little chilly as you walked along, but for once, you didn't mind. You'd had fun. At a party. You had made a new friend. Todd Stevens had been nice and a little flirty with you and you'd liked it. Maybe college was going okay after all.

"What's that?"

You raised your gaze from where you'd been kicking up a few leaves, blinking at Hannah. "What's what?"

She nodded her head a ways along the sidewalk. Three people stood clustered around some clump on the ground, barely illuminated in the dark. One of the figures crouched down, inspecting the lump as you drew closer. There was talking. Raised voices. Something panicked.

Someone turned to the two of you as you drew closer, and something cold creeped down your chest.

"One of you have a phone?" The guy called, voice panicked. "Please tell me you have a charged phone."

"Yeah, yeah, I have a phone," you said slowly. "What's going on—"

"Call 911. Call 911 now."

"What's going on?" Hannah repeated at the two of you came closer. The girl with the two boys had drawn back, a hand clamped over her mouth as she started crying.

You stepped closer, peeking around the guy still talking frantically, but the moment you looked down at the thing on the ground, his words became nothing but background noise, washing over you as you stared blankly at the sight in front of you.

Too Much? Not Enough.

The first thing you realised about starting a band was that deciding on one specific genre was incredibly difficult. The second thing you realised was that you would need to hide your face whenever you preformed.

You were a Wayne— if it got out that you were in a band there would be many eyes on you and your friends, and just as much criticism. You wanted the band and music you all created to be known and judged because it was good, not because of who your father is.

That doesn’t mean you weren’t going to exploit your heritage— nepotism is a very small benefit to gain from years of neglect, but it’s one you’ll use to your advantage.

So, for the past two years, you’ve worn a mask every time you’ve preformed live, or otherwise obscured your face whenever recording footage for promotional material or music videos.

Danny was always careful to keep your identity hidden when discussing potential shots with photographers and cameramen— and Felix was always there to help silence the owners of the small venues you preformed in— if the money you threw at them wasn’t enough.

All of your band mates— your friends— were fiercely protective of your identity, and you can’t help but be thankful that you’re all still relatively underground because Kris would definitely get you all canceled somehow for arguing with a fan.

“Yo— you alright?”

You tilt your head all the way back, looking at Amara’s upside down face with a quiet hum. “Oh, yeah. Just thinking,” You look back, kicking your legs back against the raised stage, pulling one of your feet up onto the ledge to rest your head.

Your eyes scan over the currently empty venue— empty of customers, at least. The Swan, a bar in downtown Gotham, was filled with the joyful energy of the employees and your friends, giddy with the news Danny had just shared.

“A music producer? Like,” Blair’s hands wave about the space excitedly, hand catching on their Brothers shoulder and shaking him as they freak out. “An actual music producer?? From an actual record label??”

Danny sighs, brushing his dark hair back out of his face. He’d let it grow out over the last two years, too busy to book a haircut. He holds his phone out to Blair, showcasing the message he’d received. “That’s what Pearl said— you know she wouldn’t lie about this.”

Pearl— Danny’s girlfriend, if you remembered correctly. Decently new relationship, but he’d apparently known her since he was thirteen. He trusted her, so you did too. Still hadn’t met her yet though..

Felix leans down, hand wrapping around Danny’s wrist as he pulls the phone closers, blue light catching off his glasses. He hums, nodding slightly. “Anya Layes— I’ve heard of her. She’s legit.” He murmurs plainly, stepping away to bring more equipment to the stage.

One of the employees— a small blonde woman with striking blue eyes laughed with a delighted tone in her voice, eyes following Felix’s retreating form. “He’s certainly knowledgeable— how exciting! A real producer, scouting out a band at our establishment? How fun!”

Blair squints at her, crossing their arms and huffing quietly. You scowl, rolling your eyes at the obvious want. You usually weren’t one to judge, but—

“Jealous is a good look on you.”

You look over to your right, meeting Kris’s heavy gaze. They stare at you with an emotion you can’t quiet name, a small smirk on their face. Their hands skim over their bass, absently tuning it again— for the umpteenth time since they got up on stage.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you push off the stage and stand, stretching your arms above your head with a contented sigh. “Yeah? You like it?” You tease, brushing off the implications with an easy grin.

You’ve been dodging the tabloids various dating rumour scandals since you were thirteen, your friends half-assed comments were nothing.

Kris huffs, rolling their shoulders and plucking a few strings in a specific, repeated order. You listen to the practiced melody for a moment before stepping away, rooting through the bag your “civilian” clothes were kept until after the show. You pull out the black mask you always wore, pulling the fabric over your nose.

Thank the stars for dramatic makeup and contacts, they kept you from wearing a balaclava or something equally as stifling.

You pull the hood of your dark hoodie over your head, stepping up onto the stage with a quiet groan. Amara and Kris were already in place, adjusting their equipment. Really, the only things left to do were sound-checks, warmups and—

“Hey, Blair?” You call back, pulling the strap of your guitar over your head. “We planning on recording this gig or..?” You bend down and pull the guitar jack close and plugging it into the base of the guitar.

Blair climbs up onto the stage, fidgeting with the mesh of their shirt. “I think Felix is planning on recording some of the songs,” they hum, adjusting the microphone stand to the correct height with practiced ease. “I don’t—“

“We’re gonna record the show in full and release snippets online, like usual.” Felix startles the both of you, setting a box of cables and speakers down onto the stage with a loud crash. He pulls out a few cables and tosses them to you, letting you fidget with the amps.

Blair hums, poking the box gently with their foot. “Swear the amount of cables in there doubles each time I see it.” They pout, leaning down to root through the cables and pulling them out at random.

“You’re just bad at cable management.” Felix scolds, slapping their hands way with a huff. He pulls out the bundle of cables and moves towards the speakers, fiddling with the tangled wires.

“Hey— are we sure about this setlist? Like,” Amara, scrolls through her phone— the list of songs Blair had decided on staring back at her. He holds her phone out, stopping on one song in particular. “This is a nice bar, in a decent area. Are we sure that—?”

“You think my angst songs about neglect are too edgy for these people?” You finish, turning your head towards her with a small grin. She nods slightly and you laugh, shaking your head. “Nah, they’ll all be too busy dancing to listen to the lyrics.”

“And!” Blair cuts in, springing up from their crouch with a delighted giggle, like the entire situation was hilarious. “So many of these rich bigwigs are filled with familial rage— there’s no room for love in the business world!” They explain plainly, causing you and Kris to wince.

They’re right, but… ough, ouch…

Danny pipes up from the floor, catching everyone’s attention. “This is great and all, but,” He holds up his tablet and taps on the schedule he made. “We’ve got ten minutes to get through a sound check and start letting people in, so let’s get a move on!”

Blair coos out something awfully endearing, hands wrapping around the body of their microphone as music begins to blare out of the speakers. Their voice is almost swallowed by the sound as they screech—

“Let’s do this!!”

Blair’s singing echos through your head as you shred on your guitar, breath puffing against the inside of your mask. The crowds screaming, people pressing against the meager barricades as they jump to the music and slur barely legible lyrics.

Blair was right, everybody was too drunk to care about the lyrics.

You strum the final notes to the song as Blair’s voice wavers— overcome with the emotions of the crowd. They slump as the song finishes, lights flashing dramatically. The crowd cheers, voices rising in a joyous chorus.

Your entire body shakes as Blair rises, holding the microphone closer to their mouth, addressing the crowd for the first time in two hours. “Thank you all for your time! We’re Deadshot, thank you and goodnight!”

Your breath catches in your throat as the blinding lights directed at the stage go dark, allowing your body to untense and go slack, hands falling limp to your sides. You pull the guitar over your head, depositing it into its temporary stand before making your way off stage.

You all make your way into the Employee area, being greeted by Danny and Felix. Felix hands you all bottled waters while Danny congratulates you all for the show. “That was great guys! That producer really likes your sound— she gave me her card!!”

Danny holds out the laminated card excitedly, eyes lighting up with a genuine enthusiasm that you rarely saw on the morose teenager. Felix nods, resting his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You’re all free to get drinks— celebrate. We’ll be packing up at twelve, then I’m bringing all of you home.”

Blair whoops, arm slinging around Amara’s shoulder. They tug her out of the break room— back towards the roaring crowd in the bars main room. Felix follows his younger sibling out into the fray— likely to monitor their drinking. You’re all underage except for him, after all.

Kris sighs and flops down onto the couch, shutting their eyes with a hum. Danny sits down beside them, tapping away at their tablet— likely uploading the recorded songs from tonight.

You linger in the break room for a moment before tugging your bag of clothes closer, digging through the fabrics until you find a small box and a lighter. You stand, shoving the box into your pockets.

You stand up and head for the employee door, waving back to Kris and Danny. “Going for a smoke, back in a sec.” You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath. The cool air burns your lungs, and you move to pull a cigarette from the box and fill your lungs with smoke instead.

“You shouldn’t smoke, y’know.”

You tilt your head down the alley, suddenly very thankful to have kept your mask on.

The Nightwing steps out of the shadows, the white eyes of his mask staring into your soul. You resist the urge to flinch, rolling your eyes instead. “You gonna stop me?” You grunt, making your voice deeper subconsciously. You don’t know how well Dick remembered your voice, but you’d rather not get caught now.

You don’t remember when you learnt that your family were also the group of vigilantes “saving” the city night after night. You think, after years of ignoring your presence, they stoped trying to hide their nighttime activities in the manor when there was no guests over.

Jason dying when the second Robin died was certainly a hint.

Not the time.

Nightwing laughs, stepping closer with graceful ease, hands settling onto his hips. “Nah, just thought I’d warn ya.” He stops beside you, smiling at you warmly. A warmth he usually lacked, seeing you. “You seem like you could use some company,”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “My friends are all behind this door, I think I’m alright.” You gesture towards the employee door, pointedly ignoring Nightwing’s intrigued hum.

“Oh?” He hums, examine the peeling writing on the door carefully. “What happened then? Something exciting?” He turns his attention to you, white eyes peering at you with renewed interest.

You stay silent for a moment, truly debating how much you’re willing to share with your estranged older brother— an estranged older brother who isn’t aware of who you are, or that you know who he is. You fold after a moment, fidgeting with the cigarette in your hand. “We just played the biggest show of our career. We might get signed onto a record label.”

Nightwing laughs delightedly, and you are reminded of Blair so suddenly you almost gasp, as he leans back onto the balls of his feet. “Oh, sounds fun!” He leans forward, onto the pads of his feet, closer to you. “What’s your bands name?”

You tenses for a moment, a quick “why” leaving your lips faster than you can process. Nightwing leans back agains, hands coming up to— to what, placate you? “Judging from your outfit— and the sounds coming out of this bar— my friend would really like your style.”

Friend? Was that code for sibling? Which sibling, you have seven- eight? Was Stephanie apart of the family?

The name falls from your throat before you can stop it. “Deathshot.” You clear your throat, stepping away from Nightwing. “We’re called Deathshot.”

Nightwing nods— opens his mouth to speak— but sound cackles from his earpiece and he still very suddenly, body tensing. He sighs and steps away, hand going to the grapple gun on his belt. He runs past you, calling out as the wire shoots into the night air, “Thanks!”

…and then he’s gone.

You slump against the wall of the alley, breath escaping in a rush of air. You pull down the sweat-slick fabric of your mask, taking deep, gulping breaths of air. You fumble with the lighter in your hand, pulling the cigarette up to your lips and lighting it up quickly.

You take a drag, smoke escaping your lips in a deep sigh.

Shit. You don’t know when’s the last time you spoke to him one on one like that.

The door creaks open beside you, causing your head to snap towards the door with wide eyes, seeing—

“[Name]?”

Blair.

“[Name], you’ve been out here for ages,” they murmur, pulling the cigarette from between your lips and putting it out against the wall. They speak quietly to you , pulling you inside carefully.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. Blair’s seen you like this before, they know what’s happened.

Kris questions what’s wrong when you both step into the break room, but Blair just pushes you down onto the couch beside the both of them. Danny doesn’t say anything, just settles against your side like it’s second nature. Kris grabs your hand and rubs their thumbs across your knuckles.

Blair steps back, grabbing their phone from their pocket and making a call.

You sit there, taking deep breaths until Amara and Felix step into the break room, hands full of bags— your equipment, most likely.

You all piled into Felix’s car, gear and equipment stuffed into the back.

He drops you off at the manor, handing you your bag and guitar case, wrapping you in a quick hug before speeding off into the night.

You sneak back into the manor through the back, making your way into the desolate part of the manor where you reside. You shove your guitar under your bed, out of sight out of mind.

You’d strip out of your costume, dumping it onto the floor with disregard. You stumble into the bathroom, turning the shower on and dousing yourself with cold water.

You sit under the spray for a few minutes, sweat and makeup pooling in the showers floor before being swept into the drain. Eventually, you shut the water off and step out into the cool air, grabbing a towel and drying off quickly.

Your hairs still damp as you step into your room again, opening your bag of clothes and pulling them out and shoving them back into your closet. You gather the relents of your costume and shove it into the bag, before that too is discarded under the bed.

You pull your pyjamas on and crawl under your blankets, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist is open!

The morning came in quiet waves. Sunlight stretched across the carpet. A half-full glass of champagne still sat on the dresser. The air smelled like heat-styling tools, edge control, and leftover perfume.

Your phone buzzed beside your pillow. You rolled over, eyes barely open, and smiled when you saw his message.

Just outside your room, the suite was buzzing with energy. When you entered the common area, Tati was in the kitchenette making mimosas with way too much champagne. Kris was curled on the couch in your robe like it belonged to her. Lex was sorting through her camera roll, muttering “why did y’all let me post this.”

But Nas — Nas was watching you. The quiet kind of watching. The kind that clocked your second smile at your phone and tilted her head gently.

“You good?” she asked, reaching across the breakfast bar for a croissant.

You looked up from your seat, soft. “I am.”

She smiled. “You sure?”

You nodded. She held your gaze, making sure that the smile you gave her actually reflected in your eyes. Then, she raised her glass. “To knowing the difference between good sex and being seen.”

You laughed out loud. And the whole suite followed.

-

Later, over brunch, you told them about the phone call.

The walk. The kiss. The way he didn’t try to push inside. The way he just stood there in front of four girls and said “hey ladies” like it was nothing.

“You don’t understand,” Tati said, leaning across the table. “The calmness. The confidence. That was not a man fumbling.”

“I think he’s just…” you hesitated.

“What.”

You looked down at your drink. “I think he’s serious.”

Nobody laughed ... Nobody teased.

Lex reached across the table and touched your hand. “Then we’re serious about protecting you.”

Kris nodded. “And cheering you on when he keeps showing up right.”

“Exactly,” Nas added. “We’re here to hype and hold. Real ones only.”

And that night, while you were getting dressed for the club in the way only you could — lashes curled, gloss slick, heels set by the mirror — your phone buzzed again.

Michael calling…

You picked up, smile already forming. “Hi.”

It's almost like you could see him smiling back at you. His voice, full of depth and rasp, sounded exhausted despite clearly being happy to talk to you. "Hey. What's goin' on?"

"Nothin' much," Setting your lip liner on the vanity, you put your phone on speaker so you could find the blotting powder in your makeup bag. "We're about to go to the club in a bit so I'm getting ready."

“You look good.” he said with finality, clearly imagining you in his mind.

You laughed. “You don't even know what I’m wearing!”

“I don’t,” he said, “but I know everyone at the club's about to hate how good you look.”

You sat on the bed to pack your clutch, suddenly shy. “You going out tonight too?”

“Late dinner, maybe. You gonna be safe?”

“Always.”

“Text me when y’all get back.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” he said gently. “I wanna know when you’re home.”

-

When you did get back to your hotel after a night of tequila sunrises, dancing to T-Pain, and not-so-great truffle fries, it wasn't until 2:14 AM.

And, to no one's surprise, your phone buzzed as soon as your heels crossed the suite's threshold.

With a chuckle and a smile, your fingers danced across your screen to reply. And, as expected, he texted right back before you could blink.

You hesitated, thumbs hovering. Though yes, you wanted to tell him everything about your day – the ins and outs, the jokes with the girls, that one random guy you saw on the street dressed as a rat – you didn’t want to inundate him with everything. This is new, you reminded yourself, don’t bug him.

There. That seems reasonable. Answered the question but kept it short.

Oh. Okay, then.. “Hm.” You hummed to no one in particular, “That’s not what I was expecting him to say. Not quite sure where to go from here.”

You responded. Lighthearted but serious.

And again, he replied. It seemed as if he replied before you could even hit ‘send’. As if he responded to your thoughts.

You laid back against the pillow, lips parted, blinking slow. Biting back a shit-eating grin, you found yourself describing your day – still short and to the point, but with just enough detail to satisfy his craving to know more.

--

Please leave your feedback below!!

Tags: @blackisy2k @hamzahsf4vg1rl @siasoup @heyyimmisunderstood @mirathebookworm @iluvv.angel @blondfortheweekend @Plan3tCh1ld @remcycles @browngirldominion @smokestackenrgy @marvel-dork98 @chaneajoyyy @jackierose902109 @Secretisme4 @marley1773 @wrldfantasy @remcycles @bxrbie1 @pinkprincessluminary @honestlyurslol @bxrbie1 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @nybearsworld @eclecticblkgirl @corvusmorte @yallsuck-00 @glambyk @Siqeth @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @xoxo-lai @perfectlyimperfectme @Mea-bby @kianaleani @prettiest1ittleliar @Mejustme06 @kpop-servant @kneelarhmstrung @rossie-things @thatssonani @esachicaa @ajenae @adornn4jadaa @Kindofaintrovert @bigpumpum18 @famousphilosopherwombat @Transparentphantomface @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theesmartblonde @-harmonytbh @jiminsjams123 @li-da-savage @Fckwritersblock @christinabae @Tianna-blanche @queenofklonnie22 @marley1773 @Secret89sblog @secretisme4 @nybearsworld @jackierose902109 @spideyxakmighty2 @rossie-things @Sharpaysbestfriend @chrome-edition @Mulanii9 @blackgurlkillinit @soniaangels @pinkprincessluminary @bxunyx @venusesworld  @flipsidefever @dangerouslylunarwind @writingsbytee @sheabutterbabes @c-grace56 @turbulentvoids @Stankface @mimellowdi @vintigepimpzinio @bedstarz @thesmutconnoisseur @iceyyycapsicle @theesexyyaquariuss @lovey-3 @sowhatariyana @ariiaellbtheedonn @melinatedlifeline @Nyifly22 @Jayyybird221 @pinkpantheris @naenae479 @Keaenzie @melinatedlifeline @Smokestackenergy @tyneshaaa @fanfictiononly4 @Jayyybird211 @melinatedlifeline @Stankface @beedici @Chynah—doll @Hollyleelee99 @prettygirlwrld @bbykel @secretisme4 @Yeaiamme2 @kristings7 @solitudedanii @singularepiphany @motheroffae @smokestackenergy @christinabae @chuwooooo @aretasreads @5starsirl @drdimplesjdrdimplesj @thesweetestdrug @Nysrevenge @keyaho @coldeforprez @Dollyblush222 @Suzysface @zomqiez