The house is alive with energy—a loud, thumping bass shakes the walls as music blares from an impressive set of speakers. People are scattered everywhere, filling every corner of the house, red cups in hand, voices raised over the music. The air smells of spilled beer, sweet cocktails, and a hint of cologne and perfume. Someone's laughter cuts above the noise, while others are shouting encouragement as a game of beer pong unfolds in the dining area.
You step into the chaos, scanning the room, and soon enough, you spot your best friend, Nicholas. He's in the living room, laughing with a group of people, his easygoing charm on full display. He's holding a drink, the condensation dripping down the sides of the cup. His head turns, and when he sees you, his face lights up.
"There you are!" he calls out, weaving through the crowd toward you. His grin is contagious, and before you can say a word, he's handing you a drink.
"Don't tell me you're already drunk," you tease, eyeing him playfully.
"Drunk? No way," he replies, though the sparkle in his eyes suggests he's definitely feeling the buzz. "Tipsy? Maybe. Come on, we've got to do this right."
He holds up his cup, nudging you to clink yours against his. Instead, he grins and says, "Wait, let's make it better." He hooks his arm through yours, pulling you closer. "Interlock."
Laughing, you oblige, wrapping your arm around his, your drinks still in hand. Together, you tilt your cups back, taking long sips. When you lower them, you're both smiling, your faces just inches apart.
"See? That's how you start a party," he says, his voice low but full of humor.
The night blurs into a series of chaotic but unforgettable moments. You and Nick find yourselves drifting from one room to another, laughing at people's antics. At one point, you're standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he leans beside you, the music vibrating through the floor.
"So, tell me," he says, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise. "What's your worst truth-or-dare story? Don't lie. I can spot it."
You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Why do I feel like you're setting me up for something?"
"I might be," he admits, flashing that mischievous grin.
Before you can answer, someone in the living room yells, "TRUTH OR DARE!" It's like a magnetic pull. Nicholas grabs your hand, his fingers warm as he drags you toward the growing circle of people on the floor.
The game escalates quickly. People are yelling ridiculous dares, some too outrageous to even attempt. When it's your turn, someone dares you to kiss the person next to you—and, of course, it's Nick.
"Oh, come on," he says, laughing as he looks at you. "Rules are rules, right?"
You hesitate for a second, the heat rising to your cheeks, but then he leans in, his expression softer now. The kiss is quick but electric, the kind that lingers even after it's over. The circle erupts into cheers and teasing comments, but Nick just laughs, his hand brushing yours before the game moves on.
Later, the two of you find yourselves on the makeshift dance floor, the music pounding as the crowd sways and jumps around you. Nick's hands find yours, spinning you around dramatically, making you laugh so hard you nearly spill your drink. He's a surprisingly good dancer, though most of his moves are exaggerated just to make you laugh.
Between songs, you catch your breath, leaning against him for a moment. He looks at you, his hair a little disheveled, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the party.
"You having fun?" he asks, his voice low and genuine this time.
You nod, smiling up at him. "More than I thought I would."
"Good," he says, leaning in closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Because I'm not done yet."
The night carries on in a blur of laughter, dancing, and moments you'll replay in your head for days. It's loud, messy, and perfect in its own way—just like the kind of party you'd expect to have with Nicholas by your side.
