Exploring

Noah turned away for half a second, and Jacob vanished. He was in front of them one moment and gone the next. Swallowed by the chaos of the cabin.

It was loud in that ugly, primal way. People yelled over the music, and the music seemed to fight back, the bass of it rattling through the floorboards like distant artillery.

Jillian snagged a room-temperature White Claw from a tub of melting ice near the kitchen and handed it to Noah without asking what he wanted. She already knew he wouldn’t complain. She popped the tab of something orange and carbonated for herself, then looped her arm through his.

They moved like that—her dragging, him tethered—through a crowd of Jacob’s old film school buddies and a couple of Noah’s classmates whose names he couldn't remember but whose drama he definitely did. Someone was crying in the hallway already. A girl with glitter on her clavicle was scream-laughing about some guy’s “piss kink.” A very high guy was struggling to roll a joint on the only free corner of the coffee table in the living room.

Jillian grinned through all of it, eyes bright and unbothered. This was her element: chaos, distraction, people too fucked up to realize how magnetic she was.

Noah didn’t care about the rest of it. He was watching the way her jaw flexed when she sipped. The way her shoulders moved under the mesh. Her ass brushed his thigh with every other step and his brain seemed short-circuit every time it happened. He couldn’t not think about it. About her. About that one time she gave him road head on the way back from their last date, her big perky ass raised high as she fought balance on her knees.

She pulled him into a corner of the cabin where some people were playing beer pong. She whispered something in his ear—it was more breath than words—and then bit his earlobe before disappearing.

Gone.

The same disappearing act Jacob had pulled earlier. Vanishing in the misty vape haze that seemed to permeate through the cabin like a fog.

Noah stood there dumbfounded for a minute, half-hard and holding a spiked seltzer. His skin buzzed like he’d been struck. That was her thing, she'd leave a bruise and bounce. Then come back like it never happened.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen. He talked to some guy from Econ who was now selling magic mushrooms and was making a convincing case that it was a viable career move. Nodded through a conversation, but his eyes kept scanning.

And then—

There she was.

Sprawled on a sagging loveseat in the corner of the living room, legs tucked up under her thighs, drink in hand. One of Jacob’s band-bro friends was talking to her, all animated and leaning too close, and Noah could tell she wasn’t even listening. Her gaze tracked the room until it caught his.

Her expression shifted, subtle, almost imperceptible, but Noah recognized that look, it was the kind of look you give someone when know exactly were their buttons are.

Noah cut through the crowd and dropped onto the loveseat beside her. Not possessive. Just close enough to press thigh to thigh. She turned to him, all slow and syrupy.

“Oh, _hello there, _handsome...” she said in a tone that almost made them sound like strangers.

The band-bro seemed taken aback for a moment, but just quietly sipped on his drink.

“I think you like messing with me.”

“I know I like messing with you.”

She reached out for his hand, causally, their fingers linked, and she squeezed, just tight enough to get his attention.

“Wanna go somewhere a little more quiet?” she murmured

Noah swallowed, nodded.