Minho hates Kavya, Kavya hates him more they both compete over everything and now they are stuck together for the whole year. Yet something starts drawing Minho closer and pushing Kavya away.
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The world is spinning, or maybe it's just me. I can't tell anymore. The music's pounding in my ears, this wild, heavy beat that's almost drowning out my own thoughts, do much that whatever happened when I first arrived has hidden from my memory. Almost. My feet don't feel like they're touching the ground, and my head... Gosh, my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton candy. Sweet, sticky, and completely useless.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Coming to this party? Drinking so much? I never drink, but here I am, drowning in cheap vodka and bad decisions.
Someone bumps into me, and I stumble forward, barely catching myself on the back of a couch. The room swims around me, a blur of faces and lights and colors. I blink, trying to focus, but it's like trying to read underwater. Everything is distorted, too bright, too loud. Too much.
I need to get out of here.
But where's the door? Where did I come in? Whatever happened prior to this has faded away from my memory, I'm doubtful I'll ever remember it again. My legs wobble as I try to take a step, and I grab onto the arm of a guy standing nearby. He laughs, a deep, throaty sound, and I jerk away, muttering an apology that probably doesn't make any sense. I'm not even sure I said it out loud. I remember seeing Minho earlier.
The world tilts again, and I feel myself swaying, my knees threatening to give out. I need to sit down. Or lie down. Or... I don't even know anymore.
That's when I see him. Minho.
He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as infuriatingly cool and collected as always. His dark hair is tousled just enough to look effortless, and there's that stupid smirk playing on his lips. The one that makes me want to punch him in the face.
I hate Minho. He's always teasing me, always pushing my buttons, and I can't stand him.
But right now... right now I don't care. Right now, I just need someone to help me get out of here, and he's the only person I recognize in this chaotic mess of a party. I can't find Tersea, but I'm assured she's with her popular friends and I'm comforted know Newts with Thomas doing who knows what.
I stumble towards him, my legs barely cooperating. When I reach him, I'm not even sure what I was planning to say, but what comes out is a pathetic, slurred, "Minho..."
He looks down at me, that smirk fading into something else. Something softer, maybe. Concerned? No, that can't be right. Minho doesn't do concern.
"Kavya," he says, his voice low and steady. It's grounding, somehow. Like a rope to hold onto in the middle of this storm. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"No, I'm..." I try to protest, but my words are a jumbled mess, and I can't even finish the sentence. I'm definitely about to pass out.
"Come on," he says, slipping an arm around my waist. His touch is warm and solid. "Let's get you out of here."
