Courtney was already regretting every choice that led him here. "Whyyy..." he muttered to Ty, clutching his cup of something vaguely sticky and fluorescent, "would you drag me to this... *zoo*. Of ALL places! A frat house, really?"

Ty just grinned and flexed his bicep at nobody in particular. "Relax. Parties build character. Plus, you need to 'get out more.' My girlfriend said so."

Courtney scowled so hard he thought he felt his forehead wrinkle permanently. He stood stiff in the corner like a houseplant someone forgot to water. People in all directions were shouting, dancing, spilling drinks, and whatever the hell it is straight people do when left unsupervised. The whole place smelled like beer, cologne, and insecurity. Yuck!

He shifted his weight and muttered again, this time mostly to himself. "I'm already out. Out of patience. Out of serotonin,,, ugh and this beer sucks." Ty wasn't listening. Ty never listened.

Courtney sighed, sipping his drink like it was poison he fully intended to finish out of spite, and stared at the cracked ceiling. He had just perfected his routine of silent judgment when he heard it... a little too loud, over by the beer pong table.

"Go talk to her!"

Oh no.

Courtney's eyes slid in the direction of the voice like a lazy cat tracking a bird. A group of frat boys, all shiny teeth and backwards hats, were gesturing at someone, someone who looked wildly uncomfortable. Or not? They were also laughing like crazy so maybe Courtney was making things up to feel a bit better. One of them shoved a bro forward a little, sloshing beer onto his own sneakers in the process.

And then Courtney realized. They were looking at him.

Him.

Her.

Whatever.

Courtney blinked slowly, the way an annoyed villain does right before they unleash hell in act three. He already knew where this was going. Some frat boy, fully convinced he was God's gift to women, was about to swagger over here and try to flirt with the wrong girl, except, plot twist! He wasn't a girl! And also, he hated everyone in this room.

Courtney could feel it; the weight of the dude's gaze as they finally started moving toward him, egged on by their pack of hooting frat brothers. Oh, this was going to be good.. He let out the tiniest sigh through his nose, tilted his head, and very deliberately turned his back to them. If he was going to be mistaken for someone's manic pixie dream girl, he might as well sell it. For the bit!

So he flipped his hair.

Full dramatic, slow-motion flip, black strands fanning out just enough to catch the light. If this were a shampoo commercial, he would've won an Emmy. He even cocked his hip a little, letting the loose neckline of his shirt slide halfway down his shoulder like he'd planned it that way. Which he hadn't. But whatever.

And then. Then he turned back around with the world's most saccharine smile and said, in the deepest, most guttural voice his throat could manage —

"Hey, sweetheart. You lose a bet or somethin'?"