80s Band Imagines

💚Vince #3- A Bet Gone Wrong

June had never been to a frat party before. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten roped into this one—oh, right. Her roommate Claire had begged until June finally caved.

"Junie, you can't spend your whole freshman year hiding in the dorm like some Netflix cryptid," Claire had insisted, eyeliner wand in hand. "You need to live a little."

So now here she was: shoved into a crowded frat house where the air reeked of sweat, cheap beer, and Axe body spray. The music pounded so hard the floorboards vibrated. People shouted to be heard over the speakers, red cups sloshed across sticky counters, and the kitchen table looked like a graveyard of empty bottles.

June stuck to the wall, nursing a cup of Sprite. She had promised Izzy she'd come. She hadn't promised to enjoy it.

That was when he appeared.

Vince.

If confidence had a mascot, it would look like him: backwards cap, perfect grin, and the kind of casual lean that said I own this room.

"Hey," he said, sliding in next to her. "You must be a freshman."

June glanced at him, unimpressed. "Wow. Did you rehearse that in the mirror, or do the lines just come to you naturally?"

His grin widened. "That obvious, huh?"

"Like a neon sign."

He chuckled, brushing it off. "I could give you a tour. Show you around campus. Exclusive Vince edition."

She took another sip of Sprite. "Tempting. But I already found the exit sign."

That landed. For just a second, his grin faltered. But he quickly rallied. "You're funny," he said.

"And you're persistent," she replied. "Also not a compliment."

Across the room, two guys who looked like they belonged in every frat movie ever—Tommy, wiry and constantly grinning, and Nikki, taller and sharper-eyed—burst out laughing.

"Bro, she just torched you," Tommy hollered.

Vince turned to glare, but when he looked back, June was gone. She'd slipped into the crowd, leaving him standing there with nothing but his dented ego.

She didn't stop walking until she hit the sidewalk outside, cool air brushing her cheeks. The laughter inside still echoed, but June didn't turn back.

She remembered high school—how easy it had been to be invisible. One guy had tried, once. Said she was "mysterious." Turned out he just liked the chase.

Claire always said June had walls. June preferred to think of them as filters.

She pulled out her phone, typed a message to Izzy, then deleted it.

Not worth it.

Later that night, Vince sulked in the kitchen, flicking bottle caps at the counter. Tommy was still grinning.

"Never seen you crash that hard," he teased.

Vince muttered, "She wasn't even that funny."

"She roasted you alive," Nikki said, sipping his beer. "She's not like the others. Careful."

"Careful?" Vince scoffed. "Please. I just wasn't trying."

"Sure you weren't," Tommy said. He leaned in, grinning like a villain in a cartoon. "Tell you what—bet you can't get her to go out with you."

Vince's head snapped up. "What?"

"You heard me. June—little Miss Zebra who left you hanging. Bet you can't pull her."