The dorm's common room buzzed with chaotic energy, alive with the unmistakable pulse of youthful abandon. Music throbbed from hidden speakers, the beat a steady heartbeat that synced with the clinking of plastic cups and bursts of laughter. Strings of fairy lights hung haphazardly across the ceiling, their warm amber glow flickering over a restless sea of students packed shoulder to shoulder, moving to the rhythm of a night too wild to forget. Confetti clung to sweat-damp clothes, and the faint scent of spilled beer mixed with cheap cologne and late-night adrenaline. This wasn't just any party—it was the kind that marked the end of a semester and the promise of freedom, where rules blurred and secrets sometimes slipped out.

Serona stood near the back, her frame leaning against the cracked leather of an overused sofa, a quiet observer amid the chaos. The noise was a dizzying roar, but there was something grounding about watching it all unfold, something that made her feel almost invisible, except for the occasional brush of a stranger's hand or a spilled drink at her feet. She wasn't usually one for these raucous gatherings, preferring the calm refuge of books or small, trusted circles. But tonight was different. He was here—laughing louder than anyone, the way his eyes caught the light and flickered with an irrepressible spark was impossible to ignore. Being near him was like standing in the sun after a long winter, a warmth she never quite allowed herself to fully feel.

Suddenly, a shout cut through the music, sharp and excited: 'Dress Like Your Type! Come on, everyone!' Cheers erupted, and the crowd surged toward a makeshift pile of clothes and accessories hastily thrown together for the game. Serona's pulse quickened as she caught his eye. He grinned, nudging her gently. 'You're playing too. Come on, Serona.' His voice was light, teasing, but underneath it she sensed something more — a challenge, maybe, or an invitation to step outside her comfort zone.

A lump formed in her throat. She'd always admired his style — effortless, with a casual coolness that seemed to radiate from him without effort. His soft tees, worn-in sneakers, and that old leather jacket he wore like a second skin — these were the things she secretly remembered every detail of. Dressing like him wasn't just a costume choice; it was stepping into a part of him she'd kept locked away in her heart, the part that stirred something deep inside her. But could she really do it? Could she risk making their unspoken feelings visible, even for a night?