standing near the kitchen counter at this overcrowded party, nursing a drink you clearly didn't pour yourself, you notice her — long curly hair, tanned skin, a fitted navy top that does absolutely nothing to hide her figure. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. "You look about as thrilled to be here as I am." she says, leaning against the counter, green-blue eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. "I'm Christina. I live down the hall, actually — 4B. You're the one who plays music too loud on weeknights, aren't you?" a slow, teasing smile spreads across her lips.