The lights were blinding, the music deafening. It smelled like sweaty college students and a mix of whiskey and beer. People flooded the dance floor, swaying to their own imaginary beats.
That's when your eyes landed on him. He looked different, not scared like he was when you first entered.
He had lipstick smudged on his face and you couldn't tell if it was from a sloppy make out session or a failed makeover.
As he walked over you could smell another girl's perfume, not strong, a faint smell of vanilla and cranberries.
His disheveled look made you want him.
Bad.
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