The dorm rooms at San Agustin weren’t small, but they definitely weren’t giant either. Each student had a full size bed, a desk and a chair, but the rest of the room was up to them to decorate. Tyler Jane certainly made the most of the smaller space she was given- the linens on her bed were a minimalist cream color and her throws accented the sheets with tan and burnt orange. She also had enough pillows for an army, which made her bed the perfect place to snuggle up at the end of a long day. Her desk doubled as a workstation as well as a vanity, which is what she was currently using it for in order to get ready for the party. With a few prints on the walls and a hanging plant that she lovingly named Fern, the redhead was able to make the campus issued room her own.

She had once read in a magazine that the best way to be social and make friends at school was to keep your door open, so unless she was sleeping, studying, or getting dressed, wide open her room stayed. Tyler sat in her rolling chair as she applied her makeup meticulously, upbeat music playing in the background and drifting into the hallway. She was looking forward to having a fun, carefree night with her friends, especially if Savannah and Erica were successfully able to secure the alcohol. Since arriving on campus two months ago, they hadn’t gotten the chance to let loose and have a good time, so she was excited about the prospect of acting like a true high schooler.

Wearing all white, having not been in the dorms all day, Griffin cracked his neck as he strode down the hall to freshen up before the party. A party that was practically an open invite for their whole year to go. News travels around fast and only idiots would assume the only guests would be the people the hostesses exclusively chose. There was autrious and loud music coming out of his neighbor’s room which caused him to scoff. The music spoke volumes about her, and he hated it.

Speaking of the party, before he could walk past Tyler Jane’s room, he stopped in his tracks to see her delicately applying makeup around her eyes. A smirk fell on his face while he crossed his arms and leaned against the trim, not entering like Leo most definitely would’ve. “Trying to get into someone’s pants tonight, hm?” Griffin teased, knowing exactly who she was trying to go out of her way for, which was gross. His piercing blue and critical gaze looked at her, through the mirror, surveying her in prepossession. There should be no doubt in her mind that this boy believed her to be one-hell-of-a-try-hard. His expression said it all: disappointment. Just as though everything that she was... was fake and he refused to see the genuinity behind her personality.

The girl’s focus remained on her mirror as she brushed a soft pink eyeshadow onto her lids- nothing too flashy or bright, just enough of a pop of color to accent her blue eyes- but she could feel a presence at her door before he started talking. His tone just made it all the more evident who it was: snarky, mocking, and judgemental. “And you care because...?” Tyler Jane asked, glancing over to the doorway to make eye contact with Griffin before returning her gaze to her own reflection, continuing to apply her makeup.

Silently, Griffin smiled, not responding immediately, simply watching her, with those hawk eyes. “I just find it funny, is all.” He let his words linger in the air, never faltering from his stance. Even if his body was still, his unwavering feet planted to the ground, his shoulders were lax, his words stood out from the music, and his charming smile was full of life, dignified, yet blasé. “Your type.”

Tyler Jane placed the brush down on her desk, letting it roll carelessly towards her makeup bag. She just needed to continue to focus on getting ready, and then maybe he’d get bored and leave.... that should work, right? She picked up a skinny eye pencil, nimbly rolling it through her fingers. “Enlighten me,” The redhead stated while dragging just the smallest bit of black eyeliner onto her lash line. She was trying her best to not allow the annoyance to ring in her voice, remaining indifferent yet somewhat interested in his response. “What exactly would you say is my type?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” The boy rolled his eyes at her pretending not to care. “I suppose his charm and way with words does cover up how self-involved and narcissistic he is, but you know what? I get it. You both act so elegant and graceful. Nothing but two perfect peas in a pod.” He nodded to himself as if only now he was thinking about all this. “It’s only natural to think he’s just like you. But I see it, that pull he has because he has something you don’t. He’ll stroke your ego just as much as you would for him. The only difference is he doesn’t need flattery, you do.” Finally, he moved from his position, shrugging, and raising his hands up in fake innocence, “But what do I know? I’m not you. I just came by to say hi, seeing how your door is… open.”

She listened as Griffin spoke, her cheeks growing hot as he rambled on. The girl had yet to understand how one person could be so frustrating- he was worse than Leo by a landslide. It was one thing for the latter to be a fuck boy, but Griffin was a fucking boy, and an awful one at that. Of course, he had to live next door, it couldn’t have been anyone else because that would’ve been too easy. Tyler Jane made a valiant effort to not let his words get under her skin, but somehow, he knew exactly what to say to make her eyebrows knit together and nose scrunch up.

Slamming down the eyeliner pencil so hard that it almost snapped in two, she made unwavering eye contact with Griffin. “You’re completely right,” She paused, letting him think for a just moment that she agreed with him. Once a split second passed, she continued. “...you’re not me. And because of that, I don’t think it’s exactly your business to hyper-analyze who I choose to get involved with.” With a huff, Tyler Jane looked back at her mirror, picking up her mascara and continuing where she left off. As she took the wand out of the tube, she piped up again. “My door is open so that my friends can come in and say hello. Seeing as you’re not one of them, I don’t know why you care so much.”

Disregarding most of what she said, especially because he had no control over his need to analyze every little thing, Griffin focused on the last bit before dismissing himself. Like the smartass that he was, he chuckled, “I never stepped in, now did I?” Clearly amused, knowing exactly what he was doing, he enthusiastically slapped the trim of her door, “Speaking of friends! Please do me a favor and thank Savannah for me. Thanks to her, I’ll get to see a different side of you. I’m curious what kind of drunk you’ll be.” He locked his blue gaze with her sharp glare one last time, before slyly whispering, “Then again, I have my theories.” Casually saluting her goodbye, Griffin, that fucking boy, left her alone to stew in her own thoughts. To him, this was considered a successful interaction.

Tyler Jane couldn’t get in another word edgewise before Griffin disappeared back into the hallway as swiftly as he had appeared in the first place. It took her a few moments to realize what he had said, her frustration having been clouding her thoughts- not only was Savannah stepping on her toes when it came to Nicholas, but from what the boy was implying, she had decided to invite Griffin to the party just to piss her off even more. With another grumble, the redhead stood up and slammed the door to her room, ensuring no one else could rain on her parade. So much for making friends.

Bradley Barron stood in front of his mirror and dramatically tore another shirt off of his body, throwing it into a pile of fellow rejects. He shook his head and flopped onto his bed, face down. His exasperation was muffled by his pillows, but it was just as cathartic. He’d been trying to get ready for this party for what felt like hours. Nothing he put on felt right, nothing looked good enough. He should just stay in, listen to the thumping of the music through his door, and pretend like it had been the best night of his life.

Except he’d told Wes he’d come, and therein lay his dilemma. You’re being ridiculous. Get over it. Get over it. GET OVER IT Bradley lay still for a few minutes, trapped in a labyrinth of his own creation, until he finally decided to tune out of his ongoing saga of self-loathing. He forced himself to roll over and get up. At least if he went to the party, he could get drunk, and forget all of this. He wasn’t sure alcohol actually worked that way, considering he’d never had the stuff, but hidden deep in his subconscious, a small voice assured him he was correct.

Minutes passed and finally, Bradley settled on a simple outfit, nothing too showy, but something that made him feel like he was putting in some effort. If he listened closely, he could hear the thump of music coming from downstairs, soundwaves slipping out an open window and into his room.

He took a deep breath, and headed out into the hallway, catching the elevator just as a few of his classmates were headed down. Short skirts and way more makeup than usual made it pretty obvious that they were off to the party as well, and he wondered if Erica was prepared for the whole school to show up. He smiled softly to himself at the thought of Erica’s face when she saw the common room filled with strange bodies.

The party wasn’t in full swing quite yet, but people had begun to arrive, and they were helping themselves to alcohol and the dance floor. The music was even louder down here, and coupled with the shouts of party-goers, it was damn near impossible to hear yourself drink. The weight of everyone’s presence seemed to close in around him, and Bradley beelined for the alcohol. He was able to wrap his fingers around a half-empty bottle of vodka, and after examining it for a brief second, he poured some into an empty cup, and chugged.

The vodka tasted like hand sanitizer smelled, and his body fought him as it went down his throat. Nevertheless, he kept it down, grimacing as he looked around for a familiar face. He was out of his element here, surrounded by people he barely knew. He took another shot, just to ease the weight of their stares, and a third just for safety. Each time it got easier, and Brad was beginning to wonder what all the fuss was about. He felt like he’d been drinking for years.

Wes and Griff still weren’t here, but that was beginning to seem like less and less of a problem, as alcohol warmed his body and clouded his senses. The music, egregious a moment ago, was seeping into his muscles, and he found himself tapping his foot to the rhythm while he poured himself a mixed drink. He smiled softly. What could possibly go wrong?

Erica shut the door to her room behind her, wearing something that better met her standards for the night. Her first realization, which came to her as her eyes fell on the conference room, was that there were way more people here than she had planned on, and more were still streaming in. She pushed her way through as politely as she knew how, and came to her second realization. People were having fun.

She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face, maybe because she was a little tipsy from her shot earlier, or maybe because she genuinely enjoyed making people happy. This kind of stuff was what brought kids closer. Later tonight, girls that had yet to become friends would bond over mutual toilet bowl escapades, and freshmen would work up the courage to text their crushes, and maybe, just maybe, Dwayne or Sam or any boy that wasn’t Leo would make a move on her.

“Y’know, for party planners, you sure know how to pick the place. Totally exclusive. I would’ve never found out.”

It was as if the universe had heard her wish, and laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Erica turned around to face Griffin Pierce. The two had what Brad called “crazy smart kid chemistry” and what Erica preferred to see as an unending academic rivalry.

“Well, unless you and the other two Musketeers have a secret clubhouse I don’t know about, I’d like to see you do better,” she said. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, but that was absolutely, positively, just the shot from earlier.

“I could—” Griffin leaned up against the wall peering at her, his eyes never wavering below her face, only looking into her deep gaze.

His mysterious, laid back nature, while playful and insufferable at times, covered up more than most people realized. A boy as smart as him — there was more to him than being an annoying flirt, aiming to get under the skin of the prettiest girl on his campus. Someone he saw as his equal. Though, he’d never admit that to her face, since seeing her get riled up was all part of the fun.

Taking moments to glance behind her at the hustle and bustle of the party to see who was here, he smirked right back at her,“— If I cared enough.” There was some bridge of trust between the two, whether they were aware of it or not. Just by how close they were standing near each other could show that there was some underlying magnetism. It was like their rivalry forced them to see each other in such a short time. Perhaps accepting her strengths and putting his pride down also helped, because if he had to choose anyone to notice something that was ‘out of place’, it would be Erica Monet. She was a clever girl.

Truth be told, Griffin cared. A lot. He didn’t know why, but ever since he woke up on the bus months ago, he couldn’t stop asking questions and noticing things slightly skewed. Rewind the clock to after his confrontation with Tyler Jane, he spent some time in his room, thinking to himself and preparing. For some reason, he had an unsettling gut feeling, as if his recent interview with Ms. Mulligan would be used against him.

Unbeknownst to anyone, including his best friends, Griffin had hidden secrets throughout his room. Before leaving his room for what felt like would be the last time, he did something he wouldn’t normally do. He added slight disorder to his picture perfect boy’s room. Purposely, he placed his basketball in front of the wardrobe in his closet, then made an opening with his clothes, as if that led to something more, like fucking Narnia. Afterwards, he stood on his bed and shifted the ceiling tile, once again making it only noticeable to those that actually were good at finding subtle changes. Once he went back to the ground, Griffin grabbed the small painting Bradley made for him and placed it on his pillow, as if the cartoon s'mores eyes were staring straight at the ceiling. The last secret place he had was his dresser, the third drawer. Unfolding his clothes, which would differ from the rest of his drawers that were neatly organized and color coded, he let the chaos take over the wide space, followed by leaving the drawer ajar.

Call him paranoid, or whatever, but he felt a storm coming and if something were to happen to him, he wanted to make sure someone caught on. Quickly, he scribbled a note and put it in an envelope. With elegant cursive, that looked like near calligraphy, he wrote his letter to: Erica Monet. Pocketing it in his coat, he sighed to himself as he made his way to his door. Opening it, he quickly looked down the hallway to make sure all the people were at the party, and not around him. Cooly and swiftly, he stepped out and went to close the door. Using his body to cover the view of the camera nearest to him, he pretended to lock his door and instead taped a coin between the doorknob and deadbolt.

As if right on cue, Erica left her room, not looking in his direction, and strode to the party that she partook in planning. With that, he took out the letter, trying to make it seem like some sappy love confession, and slipped it under her door. To add to this narrative, he took a comb out of his inner coat pocket, touched up his hair to make sure he looked ‘on point’ and tailed behind her. If people were watching them, they knew how heated some of their discussions got and how out of the way they both went to one up each other.

And now, here they were.

“So, are you here to just drink, or care to dance?” He offered his hand, gesturing toward the center of the room, which he imagined could easily be a dancefloor. Leaning in, he whispered, “Bullshit and drama aside.”

Erica made a show of mulling over Griffin’s offer, before holding up a single, slender finger. “One song,” she said, before turning and sauntering towards the dance floor, not bothering to check that Griffin was following. One song wouldn’t hurt, right?

The song switched as the duo entered the growing crowd of entangled bodies. It was high energy, a song designed to get people on their feet. The words were catchy enough, and Erica began to twist and turn, her body moving with a practiced grace. Her arms swung in time to the song, wrapping this way and that in sensual motions. Her eyes met Griff’s and she smiled. “Well, you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna dance?”

Completely out of his element, but not afraid to make a fool of himself, Griffin retracted his hand and strolled through the sweaty crowd, blindly following her to the center. He watched her loosen up and though it was hardly emitting from her body, he did smell the scent of alcohol coming off of her. Before he did anything, he carefully examined her dance and that weird feeling of nostalgia washed over him, that feeling that haunted him, as if something was oh-too-familiar about this.

“Do you want to impress her, or what?”

Shaking a voice out of his head, a voice that reminded him of the whistle of birds, he decided to take it easy and not over do it, doing this thing called the ‘side-to-side rock’. He didn’t know why he knew what this basic dance was called, but it made him look chill and confident. There were only so many ways a guy could make himself attractive in a party setting, especially if dancing wasn’t his forte. He’d let her take over the dance floor as he’d only add to her moves, like an accessory. Perhaps this was another reason why she appealed to him over her best friend. Erica didn’t need to try to stand out. She just did, and she didn’t pretend to be someone else. She held her strengths and weaknesses like a medal of honor.

“Ask her something!”

“Uh, so getting the booze. Did it go off without a hitch? I haven’t seen Wes yet to ask.”

“Mostly, but uh, our mutual friend might need to make things a bit more obvious,” Erica said tilting her head over to where Bradley was leaning against the wall. With anyone else, talking about Bradley and Wes would’ve been a betrayal of sorts. Brad hadn’t told her anything, but he didn’t need to. She could put two and two together just fine, but it still felt wrong to gossip about her friend. Griff was just as smart as she was though, as hard as it might be to admit. If anyone had noticed something between the two it was him. “The long looks aren’t really getting through to anyone, least of all the person he wants.”

“Well the person he wants needs it literally spelt out for him too.” Griffin looked in the same direction as her and shook his head, “B-rad’s been hard crushin’ since the first week. I’ve tried to give him openings, but I guess he isn’t ready to risk what they have.” For a moment, it looked like Bradley found them, so he waved at his friend, but he guessed wrong, since his friend continued to search around like a blind bat.

“Sometimes people just need a nudge in the right direction,” Erica said. She smirked well aware of the double meaning that dripped off of her sentence. She grabbed Griffin’s hands and began leading the duo in a series of quick steps. It was clear she’d learned to dance somewhere, though Erica couldn’t recall ever taking formal lessons. “You excited for the weekend?” she called out over the music. She was not privy to whatever sense for danger Griffin held. As far as she was concerned, life was good.

“Excited?” Griffin scoffed in amusement. He did his best to follow her lead. This took a whole nother level of coordination, and was nothing like any basketball drills he did to improve his quickness. “I’m excited to not wake up on a hospital bed!” He raised his voice so she could hear him over the music. After giving her a quick twirl, he reeled her in close, breaking the barrier she had put up between them. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear, and whispered, letting his breath tickle her skin, “But at least I can remember this dance.”

Her cheeks grew hot as Griffin leaned in. She’d been playing a game tonight, and games were fun, but suddenly it was real. She didn’t know where all this confidence came from, but the fluttering in her stomach confirmed for her once and for all that this was just a mask. A mask she’d worn without even realizing it. She was used to being desired, but never enough for someone to act on it. This sudden intimacy was new, and nerve racking. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, and she stepped back. “I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she said, before, slipping off into the crowd, new questions filling her head with a thick fog.

For a second, subconsciously, Griffin reached for her, not wanting the moment to end, but as she walked away, he pulled back his hand. Under different circumstances, and at a different school, there would’ve been more to look forward to. There could be more to their story, like attending a silly school dance together or both staying up till dawn because neither wanted to go to sleep before the other. But, he knew this wasn’t their time or place. He knew something was wrong with San Agustin, which didn’t leave room for simple things like teenage romance.

Maybe he suffered from a hero complex, constantly battling conspiracy theories. Even so, Griffin knew there was something he had to do tonight, while everyone had a party to keep their spirits up. Smiling with sadness in his eyes, he watched her disappear in the crowd. As he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, he felt his basketball bands and remembered one thing he wanted to do.

Turning his attention to the direction where his friend was still standing, Griffin decided it was time to set his night in motion. Once he finished walking through the crowd, he leaned back on the wall, beside one of his best friends, and chuckled, “Looks like Wes is taking his sweet ass time.”

Bradley looked up, and grinned at the sight of his friend. He raised his glass in salute and took a sip. “That he is,” Bradley said once he’d swallowed the drink. “Looked like you and Erica were having fun,” Brad said, raising his eyebrow in a silent suggestion. The liquor had loosened his lips, and broken down the shell just a little bit. He was feeling funny right now, like he’d been the class clown in hiding all along.

“Damn right we were.” Griffin lightheartedly admitted, even letting out a small chuckle. “Sometimes, man, you just gotta’ go for it.” He gave a knowingly look to B-rad, even nudging him to add to his double meaning statement. “Carpe diem or some shit.”

Brad let a nervous chuckle slip out, and glanced down at his shoes. Was Griff suggesting what he thought he was? And if he was, how long had he known? Did everyone know? He polished off his cup to quell the growing anxiety rising in him. “Maybe I’ll try it out one day,” he said, confident that said day would never come.

“What if you only had one day?” Pushing himself off the wall, Griffin stared out at the party, his eyes immediately falling on Erica at the drink table. His voice went from fun-loving to serious, quick. Looking behind him, back at his friend, he shook his head, “I know, B-rad.” He knew for quite some time now, and if there was something he hoped he could do, it was give his friend the push he needed to take a chance for himself and nobody else.

Bradley’s eyes widened in realization before he quickly reapplied the facade he’d perfected so well. “Well then you know there’s nothing to seize. Wes doesn’t like boys, and even if he does, he doesn’t like me,” Bradley said, matter of fact. He‘d clearly given the situation a great deal of thought.

“So you admit it. You don’t know if Wes likes boys or not.” Griffin rolled his eyes, clearly realizing how poor his friend’s observation skills were. Did he not see how Wesley drooled when he saw Teddy’s body? After taking a deep breath in and out, he opened his mouth to respond, only to close it when he saw the devil himself walk into the party, finally.

Taking out one of his basketball bands, he swiftly slipped it on his friend’s right wrist, “You’re already thinking about getting rejected before you’ve even tried. What if he says no? What if he really doesn’t like boys? Okay, but ask yourself this: what if it does work out? What if he DOES like boys?” He let these questions linger in the air before grumbling, “Also: shut up with the whole he doesn’t like me. You’re right.” Griffin adjusted the band and gave a sincere grin, “He loves you, dumbass. And you have two options. Take the risk, or lose the chance. I don’t want you to end tonight not doing anything and living with that regret…” Momentarily, Griffin’s voice trailed off, wondering if he too should be doing something more daring. Sighing and going against his own advice, he added and released Bradley’s wrist, “Here, this is my lucky band.”

Placing his hand on Bradley’s shoulder, Griffin persisted, “Do you think I’d go this out of my way if I thought you had no chance in hell? Nah, man.” He decided to dismiss himself by lying, “I’m going to get a drink, and leave you two alone. Just stop thinking and just do. Okay? Okay!” With that, Griffin slapped the pair to his basketball band in Brad’s left hand and politely demanded, “Now give that to the little shit we love and seize the day motherfucker!” Not waiting for any objections, Griffin walked away, letting his two best friends have alone time together.

Bradley stood there, slightly shell shocked by Griff’s sudden passion, three words ringing clear through his brain. Seize. The. Day He mulled it over, and glanced down at the bands Griffin had given him. Maybe he’d take that advice.