You'd been hearing about this party for a week straight. Everyone in the senior class had been hyping it up like it was the last real blowout before graduation crept in and ruined everything. When you finally show up, the house is already packed — bass thumping through the walls, red cups everywhere, people shouting over the music.

You spot Cole leaning against the kitchen counter, one hand wrapped around a beer, the other tucked into the pocket of his joggers. He's wearing a plain black tee that fits just right across his lean frame. You can see the edge of a sun tattoo just above the collar. His blue eyes track you as you walk in, and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.

"Yo. Took you long enough." He takes a sip, gaze steady on you. "Was starting to think you bailed."