She could hear more people entering the apartment and the music became louder that it shook the walls. She sat on her bed, her knees tucked under her chin, as muffled bass beats seeped in from the living room.
Then there was a knock on her bedroom door.
"Sage?" It was Jaxon's voice, slurred. "C'mon out. Don't be weird."
She ignored him.
Then the door creaked open anyway.
Jaxon leaned against the frame, wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless tank top, his curls wild and his eyes glassy with alcohol. "I brought you a drink," he said, holding out a cup. "It's just cranberry and vodka. Super light.''
"I don't drink," Sage replied flatly.
He grinned.
"You're seriously going to stay in here the entire night while there's life happening five feet away?"
She met his eyes, hers colder. "Yes."
He groaned dramatically and flopped into the bean bag by her desk. "You're no fun."
"Good."
"No, not good. You need to unwind. You're wound tighter than a rubber band on a slingshot." He gestured to her, then lifted the cup again. "Just one. One drink. Then you can scowl at the wall the rest of the night."
When she didn't respond, he continued.
"Its sad watching someone actively choose to be this boring."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Okay, okay," he laughed. "That was mean. But seriously, Sage. You live once. Might as well loosen the knot around your neck before it strangles you."
She didn't move.
He set the cup down on her nightstand. "I'll leave it here in case you change your mind."
And then he left.
The door remained open, and the sound of the party surged louder.
She sat there another ten minutes, fifteen. She tried to read and tried to ignore the laughter. But slowly, the isolation began to itch.
She reached for the cup.
It smelled sweet and fruity. She took a sip.
It wasn't that bad.
She took another.
One became two.
Then she found herself drifting into the living room the cup in hand.
She leaned against the wall, unnoticed at first, until someone shouted
A few heads turned and someone whistled. Jaxon's face lit up from across the room, and he weaved through the crowd toward her.
"There she is," he said, slinging an arm over her shoulders. "Told you I'd get her to crack."
Sage shook her head, but she didn't walk away.
Someone handed her another cup.
And she didn't say no.
---
She didn't remember how many drinks followed.
Someone played a drinking game and she joined in.
Someone turned off the lights and started a dance circle. She laughed too loud.
Jaxon poured something clear into her cup and she drank it like water.
At some point, she was on the couch. Then the floor. Then laughing at something Jaxon said as he helped her up.
"Time to lie down," he muttered, supporting her weight.
She could barely keep her eyes open.
With his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulders—they stumbled down to his bedroom.
"I should—my room—" she mumbled.
" Just crash here."Jaxon said.
She didn't argue.
Her limbs were too heavy.
He pulled back the comforter, and she dropped onto the mattress.
She didn't remember pulling off her hoodie.
Didn't remember the lights turning off.
And didn't remember falling asleep in his bed
---
Morning came.
She woke to a throbbing head, her mouth was dry and there was the smell of something sour.
Her head pounded and the sunlight stabbed at her eyes like blades.
She sat up slowly.
She was not in her bed.
She blinked at the posters on the wall. The guitar in the corner. The messy pile of hoodies on the desk chair. It was the first time she was ever into his room.
And she was not alone.
She turned—and there he was. Fast asleep, shirtless, his hair tangled like a storm had blown through.
Panic surged through her veins.
She looked down. She still wore her jeans. Her top—wait. No it wasn't hers.
The shirt she had on was oversized. A gray t-shirt.
It was Jaxon's.
She stared at it her heart racing.
The room was a disaster.
Red cups littered the floor. Chips were crushed into the carpet. Someone had drawn on the mirror in lipstick.
Sage slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. Her movements were stiff.
What the hell happened?
She turned one last time before slipping out of the room.
Jaxon shifted with his eyes still closed. "Sage?"
She froze.
"Did you—sleep okay?" he mumbled.
She didn't answer.
"I need to go," she said hoarsely
"You were pretty gone," he added, yawning. "I tried to cut you off after three."
Her stomach twisted.
"You didn't… we didn't—?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Jaxon blinked slowly. "No. God, no. You passed out five seconds after hitting the pillow. I'm not a creep."
She said nothing.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. "I took your shoes off. That's it. I swear."
She nodded once, but her skin burned.
"I'm sorry," he added. "For the party. For dragging you into it. I didn't think you'd drink that much."
Sage pulled open the door. "It's fine."
It wasn't.
She changed clothes quickly, throwing the shirt in the laundry hamper.
Her reflection in the mirror looked pale her hair was wild.
She didn't recognize the girl staring back.
---
Twenty minutes later, she sat on the quad bench, sipping coffee, trying to piece together the blank spaces in her head.
Bits floated back: laughter, flashing lights, a hand around her waist, Jaxon's voice—soft and coaxing.
She didn't know why it bothered her so much.
Nothing had happened. He said so.
But it was the fact that it could have.
The fact that she had let go so easily.
That wasn't like her.
She had rules and boundaries.
Last night, she gave it all away for a few drops of alcohol and peer pressure.
And the worst part?
A small, ugly part of her didn't regret the escape.
Just the aftermath.
The waking in the wrong place.
She stared at the steam curling from her coffee cup and promised herself—next time, there wouldn't be a "just one drink."
Not again.
---
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