Parties are for Los[v]ers

This was stupid.

Vanessa wasn't a people person by any means. She hated crowds, she hated conversations. She'd much rather be by herself, or amongst a small group of friends that she could trust than a bunch of strangers. So, why exactly did she, of all people, decide to attend a frat party?

Well, she knew the answer to that. She wound up being the plus one to a plus one, drug along by her friend because his friend drug him along. The only reason she didn't put up more of a fight and actually came along is because Nathan is so god damn persuasive.

And cute. That helped too.

It didn't exactly make attending the party any easier though. Have to deal with a bunch of drunken frat bros and horny attendees constantly gawking at her was quickly becoming more of a chore. While it happens outside of parties, and is something she'd learned to tune out, this was different. It was overwhelming. The scent of alcohol piercing her nostrils, the ogling eyes constantly locked onto her, the disregard for personal space, it was pushing Vanessa closer to the edge. The cracks were beginning to show, her uncaring mask was slipping.

It was quickly pushing her closer to her breaking point. She needed to get out of the crowd she found herself in, pushing past the sea of sweaty flesh with as much force as she deemed necessary – all for the sake of her little act. It didn't matter if Nathan knew she was leaving or not, someone would tell him eventually. She just needed some fresh air before she couldn't take it anymore and broke down.

This wasn't working. The crowd felt like a vast, endless maze. Pushing one or two attendees aside revealed five more, unknowingly blocking her escape. Vanessa could feel her breathing involuntarily got louder, her movements becoming less precise and more panicked.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, threatened to spill over regardless of how hard she tried to fight back. She bit down on her lip, turned left, pushing by yet another attendee. He spilled his drink on himself as she collided with him, the scent of alcohol worsening. By the time he turned back to drunkenly argue – maybe even fight, depending on how far it escalated – Vanessa was gone. She could hear him arguing with someone else. The dumbass mistook the poor sucker that just got his lights knocked out for her. Good.

As Vanessa turned yet again, the end was in sight. A sliver of the outside, just beyond a barrier of party goers. It let her breathe a momentary sigh of relief as she marched towards the exit, wiping the tears from her eyes and giving a little sniffle. That relief was short-lived, however. In her hurry to get out, Vanessa hadn't been focusing on where she was walking. In a flash, she collided with someone, stumbling back a few steps and taking a shaken breath to collect herself.

"Vanny?" Vanessa knew that voice – and that nickname, for that matter. It made her freeze up, her amber eyes slowly drifting up to the face of the person she'd just crashed into.

"I told you not to call me that Nathan." She half-heartedly spat, trying to keep up her facade. Not to far beneath that hard surface, however, she was glad to see the silver haired dork in front of her. His presence alone gave her a sense of relief, like receiving a personal air pocket after nearly suffocating underwater. He let her breathe.

Nathan brought his hand up to his head, removing the black cap he always seemed to wear and running his thin fingers through his silver locks.

"Sorry." He spoke calmly, his voice gentle and understanding. "I was just worried about you. When we got split up, I tried finding you again, but-" He shrugged, as if that would help finish his thought. "You seemed pretty upset though, you doing okay?"

Vanessa blinked a few times, her eyes darting away from Nathan. No, she was not doing 'okay', but there was no way she'd admit that to him. She was the strong, stoic one. That's how she painted herself, that's how he saw her. She wasn't willing to admit that she was uncomfortable or overwhelmed.