The hallway of Crestwood College’s freshman dorms smelled like a mix of burnt popcorn and desperation on a Friday night. Aaron adjusted his glasses, the thick black frames slipping down his nose as he double-checked the crumpled invite in his hand. Room 214. A birthday bash for someone named Katia. He didn’t even know who Katia was, but the note—scrawled in loopy, glittery purple ink—had been slipped under his door with a winking emoji and the words, “Don’t be a boring senior. Show up.”
Aaron, a lanky senior with a reputation for being more comfortable in a library than a party, wasn’t sure why he’d even come. Maybe it was the mystery. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t been to a proper rager since sophomore year. Or maybe, just maybe, he was bored out of his mind writing his thesis on medieval architecture. Either way, he was here, standing outside a door vibrating with bass-heavy music and the shrill laughter of what sounded like a pack of hyenas.
He raised a fist to knock, but before his knuckles even grazed the wood, the door flew open. A wall of sound and color hit him—streamers dangling like a drunk spider’s web, half-empty pizza boxes stacked precariously on a desk, and a suspiciously large collection of cheap wine bottles rolling across the floor. And there, in the center of the chaos, were four girls who looked like they’d stepped out of a fever dream.
“Oi, look who decided to grace us with his presence!” The one who’d opened the door, a tall brunette with sharp cheekbones and a devilish smirk, leaned against the frame. Her accent was thick, maybe Brazilian, and her dark eyes raked over Aaron like he was a puzzle she was itching to solve. “You’re the senior, yeah? The nerdy one who got our pity invite?”
Aaron blinked, his mouth suddenly dry. “Uh, I... guess so? I’m Aaron. I got a note—”
“Pity invite?” A second girl, shorter with honey-blonde hair and a French lilt, popped up behind the first, a wine glass dangling from her fingers. She tilted her head, sizing him up. “Katia, you didn’t tell us he was cute in a... what’s the word? Awkward way. Like a lost puppy.”
“Thais, don’t scare him off yet,” a third girl called from inside, her voice low and commanding, like she was used to being obeyed. She had dark, wavy hair and olive skin, and she was sprawled on a beanbag chair like it was a throne. “Let the poor boy at least step inside before we eat him alive.”
Aaron felt his face heat up. “I’m, uh, not sure if I’m in the right place—”
“Oh, you’re in the right place, darling,” the fourth girl purred, stepping forward. She was the smallest of the bunch, with fiery red hair and a Scottish brogue that somehow made every word sound like a dare. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside with surprising strength. “I’m Victoria. That’s Thais, Laura, and the birthday queen herself, Katia. You’re our entertainment for the night, so don’t even think about running.”
The door slammed shut behind him, and Aaron found himself surrounded. The room was a sauna of energy, the air thick with the scent of sweet wine and something spicier, something that made his pulse jump. Katia, the birthday girl, rose from her beanbag throne and sauntered over, her hips swaying with a confidence that could stop traffic. Her dark eyes locked onto his, and a slow, predatory smile curled her lips.
“So, Aaron,” she drawled, dragging out his name like it was a dirty secret. “You think you can handle a real celebration? Or are you gonna hide behind those cute little glasses all night?”
“I... I don’t hide,” Aaron stammered, pushing his glasses up instinctively. “I just, uh, wasn’t expecting... this.”
“This?” Laura, the French blonde, laughed, stepping closer until her breath tickled his ear. “What, four gorgeous girls throwing themselves at you? Poor baby, must be so hard for you.”
“Hard’s the right word,” Victoria quipped, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she tugged at the collar of his plaid button-up. “Look at him, blushing already. Bet he’s never been in a room with this much estrogen.”
“Leave him be, Vic,” Thais said, though her smirk said she was enjoying this just as much. She circled behind Aaron, her fingers brushing the back of his neck as she leaned in. “Tell us, senior boy, what’s your deal? You got a girlfriend stashed somewhere, or are you just painfully single?”
Aaron swallowed hard, his skin prickling where her touch lingered. “Single. Very single. Painfully, as you put it.”
Katia clapped her hands, delighted. “Perfect! Then you’ve got no excuse to say no to us. It’s my eighteenth, Aaron. That means I get what I want. And right now, I want to see if you’ve got any moves under that shy boy exterior.”
“Moves?” Aaron’s voice cracked, and he cursed himself internally. “I’m not really a dancer—”
“Oh, we’re not talking about dancing,” Laura cut in, her voice dripping with innuendo. She plucked a wine glass from the table and pressed it into his hand, her fingers lingering on his. “Drink. Relax. Let us take care of the rest.”
He took a sip, more to have something to do with his hands than anything else. The wine was sour and cheap, but it steadied his nerves just enough to meet Katia’s gaze. “So, uh, what exactly does ‘take care of the rest’ mean?”
Katia’s grin widened, and she stepped closer, her body heat radiating against his chest. “It means, lucky bastard, that you stumbled into the best night of your life. But only if you can keep up. Think you can handle us?”
“Handle you?” Aaron echoed, his brain short-circuiting as Victoria’s hand slid down his arm, her nails grazing his skin. “I’m not even sure I can survive you.”
Thais laughed, a rich, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, we’ll make sure you survive, sweetheart. Barely.”
“Enough chit-chat,” Victoria declared, her Scottish accent sharpening as she tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Let’s see what we’re working with. Off with this hideous thing. Plaid? Really? What are you, a lumberjack?”
“Hey, it’s comfortable!” Aaron protested, but his words dissolved into a nervous laugh as Laura’s hands joined Victoria’s, deftly unbuttoning the top few buttons before he could stop them.
“Comfortable is boring,” Laura purred, her blue eyes flashing with challenge. “And we don’t do boring. Do we, girls?”
“Never,” Katia agreed, her voice a low growl as she stepped even closer, her fingers brushing against his now-exposed collarbone. “So, Aaron, last chance to back out. You in, or are you gonna run back to your sad little senior dorm and cry into your textbooks?”
Aaron’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure they could hear it. He looked around at the four of them—Katia’s commanding stare, Thais’s teasing smirk, Laura’s sultry gaze, and Victoria’s wicked grin—and knew there was no way he was walking out that door. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m in,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “But don’t expect me to keep up. I’m way out of my league here.”
“Oh, we’ll teach you,” Katia promised, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing his lower lip with a boldness that made his knees weak. “Stick with us, nerd boy. This is just the warm-up.”
As the music pulsed louder and the girls closed in, their laughter and taunts wrapping around him like a velvet trap, Aaron realized he’d never been so terrified—or so thrilled—in his life. This birthday bash was about to blow every expectation he’d ever had right out of the water.
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