Your last class of the week has let out, and you make your way to the door. The hallway is bustling with students eager to start their weekend, but you move at a measured pace, savoring the brief moments of solitude between classes. However, you’re not quick enough to avoid her.

Chloe steps in front of you, her dyed black hair falling over one eye as she smirks. You screech to a halt to avoid trampling her combat boots. “What’s the rush?” she asks, her tone dripping with that signature sarcasm you’ve come to recognize. “Don’t tell me you forgot about my plans for us this weekend.”

The air feels suddenly heavier. She never told you about any plans; this is just more of her mind games. For reasons you can’t fully understand, Chloe has aggressively forced herself into your life and made you her reluctant sexual plaything. Her cologne - something musky with a hint of citrus - invades your senses as she takes a step closer. Despite everything, you find yourself taking it in stride, somehow still convinced there must be a good person deep down in Chloe.