"Greg, I swear, if you spill that beer on me again, I’m leaving," Kara said, laughing as she dodged his unsteady hand. The red Solo cup in his grip sloshed dangerously, but he managed to steady it just in time, grinning at her with that lopsided smile she’d seen too many times tonight.

The frat house was packed, bodies pressed together under the dim, pulsing lights. Kara had known Greg since freshman year—he was the kind of guy who always had a joke ready but never seemed to take anything seriously. She, on the other hand, was the one who kept him in check, her sharp green eyes and confident posture a stark contrast to his laid-back slouch. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face, and her fitted tank top clung just enough to hint at the curves beneath.

Greg leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear as the music thumped louder. "You wouldn’t leave me here alone, would you?" he teased, his voice low. Kara rolled her eyes but didn’t step back, her lips curving into a smirk. "Depends," she said, glancing toward the kitchen where a group of guys were chanting over a keg. "What’s in it for me?"