Follow Bryce

Bryce veers off toward a large colonial-style house set back from the field, its windows glowing with warm light and bass thumping from within. He climbs the porch steps and pulls open the front door, immediately hit by a wave of bodies, sweat, and cheap cologne. The living room has been converted into a makeshift dance floor, with a DJ set up in the corner. To his left, a kitchen island is covered in plastic cups, half-empty handles of liquor, and a punch bowl filled with something neon green. He grabs a red cup and ladles some punch for himself. The first sip tells him it's mostly grain alcohol and Hawaiian Punch—effective, if not refined. "First time at one of these?" a voice asks from behind him. Bryce turns to see a guy in a backwards baseball cap leaning against the counter, holding a beer. "Yeah, is it that obvious?" "A little," the guy says with a grin. "You're not grinding on anyone yet. Name's Derek." "Bryce." Derek nods toward the back door. "There's a bonfire out back if the noise is too much. Also, better weed out there than whatever's in that punch." Bryce chuckles. "Noted. I might check it out later. You know if there's food anywhere?" "Kitchen's picked clean, but I saw a pizza delivery pull up about ten minutes ago. Might be in the basement rec room." Bryce thanks him and heads toward the stairs leading down. The basement is dimmer, with a pool table, a couch, and a few people lounging. On the coffee table sit two open pizza boxes—one half-gone pepperoni, the other cheese. He grabs a couple slices and finds a spot on the arm of the couch. Meanwhile, down on the field, Cortney approaches Tara, who's laughing at something the guy next to her said. He's tall, athletic build, frat letters on his shirt. He has his arm loosely around her waist. "Tara!" Cortney calls out, waving. Tara's face lights up. "Cort! You made it!" She pulls away from the guy and gives Cortney a quick hug. "This is my boyfriend, Mark. Mark, this is my roommate Cortney." Mark extends a hand. "Heard a lot about you. Tara says you're the one who keeps the apartment from burning down." Cortney laughs. "Someone has to. She once tried to make ramen in a coffee pot." Tara rolls her eyes playfully. "It was an experiment. Anyway, Cort, you gotta try the jungle juice they've got set up by the bleachers. It's dangerous but delicious." Cortney glances toward the bleachers, where a crowd has gathered around a large cooler. "Lead the way." As they walk, Cortney notices a familiar figure emerging from the frat house—Bryce, holding a paper plate with pizza and looking around. She waves to get his attention. He spots her and starts walking over, a grin spreading across his face. "Found the food," he says, holding up his plate triumphantly. "Nice work. We're about to hit the jungle juice station. You in?" Bryce takes a bite of pizza and nods. "After this slice. Save me a cup." The night stretches ahead of them, full of music, laughter, and the kind of reckless energy that only a college house party can provide.

Bryce, Cortney, Tara, and Mark make their way to the bleachers, where the jungle juice station is bustling with activity. A large cooler sits on a table, surrounded by red plastic cups and a sticky residue on the ground. A guy in a cutoff tank top is ladling the neon liquid into cups, his eyes glazed over. "Two cups, my man," Mark says, sliding a five-dollar bill onto the table. The guy nods, handing over two cups filled to the brim. Tara takes one, Cortney the other. They both sip cautiously, then grin at the sweet, potent taste. "Damn, that's good," Cortney says, taking another gulp. Bryce finishes his pizza and steps up for his own cup. As he drinks, he notices something odd about the crowd. Couples are pairing off, disappearing into the shadows beyond the bleachers, behind the frat house, into the tree line. The music seems to pulse differently, a hypnotic beat that makes his head swim. "You feel that?" he asks Cortney, but she's already distracted, laughing at something Mark said. A familiar girl makes her way through the crowd, Stephanie Ryan (long blonde hair, glasses)

She's wearing the same cloths she was wearing in their culinary class earlier today, and carrying a red solo cup, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Bryce. "Bryce! Oh my god, I didn't know you'd be here!" Stephanie exclaims, pushing through a group of people to reach him. She throws her arms around him in a hug that lingers a beat too long. "Hey Steph, yeah, Cortney dragged me out," he says, stepping back "Well, I'm glad she did." Stephanie's eyes travel down his body and back up. "You look good. Different. More..." Bryce shifts his weight. "Thanks? You look great too. How've you been?" "Good, good. Just trying to survive finals week and all that." She sips her drink, then leans in closer. "Hey, there's a quieter party happening in the Phi Psi house basement later. More... exclusive. You should come." Before Bryce can answer, Cortney appears at his elbow, tugging his sleeve. "Bryce, we gotta go. Tara and Mark are doing something stupid and I need backup." Stephanie's smile tightens. "Rain check?" "Yeah, maybe," Bryce says as Cortney pulls him away. "What was that about?" Cortney asks as they weave through the crowd toward the frat house. "Nothing. Old... acquaintance. Friend, once cousin by marriage" "Uh huh. She was looking at you like you were the last slice of pizza." Bryce shakes his head. "Let's just find Tara before she does something we all regret." They push through the front door of the frat house, the bass thumping so hard it vibrates in their chests. The living room is even more packed than before, bodies grinding against each other in the dim strobe lights. Cortney spots Tara's brown head near the DJ booth, but she's not with Mark anymore—she's talking to a guy in a leather jacket, his hand on her arm. "Shit," Cortney mutters. "That's not Mark." They push through the crowd, but before they can reach her, the lights cut out completely. The music stops. A moment of silence, then screams. The emergency exit lights flicker on, casting everything in an eerie red glow. "What the hell?" Bryce says, grabbing Cortney's arm. Suddenly, the back door bursts open and a wave of cold air rushes in. People start shoving toward the exits, panic spreading. In the chaos, Bryce sees something impossible—the guy in the leather jacket dragging Tara out the back door, moving faster than a human should be able to. "Tara!" Cortney screams, but her voice is lost in the noise. Bryce doesn't think. He just moves, pulling Cortney with him toward the back door. They burst out into the night, the bonfire still crackling nearby, but the field is empty. No sign of Tara or the man. Just the wind and the distant sound of sirens. "Where did they go?" Cortney asks, her voice shaking. Bryce scans the treeline. That's when he sees it—a pair of glowing eyes, reflecting the firelight, before they vanish into the darkness. "I don't know, im sure shes fine, if shes anything like in high school, she can take care of herself, Tara Albright I a strong person" he says

Cortney stares at the treeline, her breath fogging in the cold air. "You really think so?" "Yeah, I do," Bryce says, but even he doesn't fully believe it. Still, they wait another minute, and nothing happens. No sounds, no movement. Just the wind rustling the leaves. Finally, Cortney shivers. "Okay. Okay, you're right. She's probably just... hooking up with that guy or something. Tara does that." "See? Probably nothing." They stand there awkwardly for a moment longer, then turn back toward the frat house. The music has started again inside, muffled but unmistakable—someone must have flipped a breaker or fixed whatever caused the blackout. Through the windows, they can see bodies moving, dancing, laughing. The party is going on as if the lights never went out, as if nobody disappeared. "Should we... go back in?" Cortney asks. "I mean, what else are we gonna do? Stand out here and freeze?" Cortney laughs, a little shaky. "True." They push through the back door and re-enter the frat house. The emergency lights are off now, replaced by the familiar strobing party lights. The DJ has started another set, and the crowd is just as thick as before. People are grinding, drinking, shouting over the music. A few guys are doing shots near the kitchen. Someone has spilled beer on the floor, and nobody cares. "See?" Bryce says, raising his voice over the bass. "Nothing happened. Just a power outage." "Right," Cortney says, but she's scanning the room, looking for any sign of Tara. There's none. Mark is near the punch bowl, talking to a blonde girl, apparently unbothered by his girlfriend's absence. Bryce leads Cortney to a corner where they can watch the crowd. A few minutes pass. Someone offers them red Solo cups. Bryce takes one and drinks—it's the jungle juice, strong and sweet. Cortney takes a sip too. The alcohol warms them, dulls the edge of what they just saw. "See?" Bryce says again. "Everything's fine. Let's just enjoy the party." And they do. They dance. They drink. They talk to strangers. The night stretches on, loud and chaotic, the memory of glowing eyes and a vanishing man fading into something that feels more like a bad dream than reality. By midnight, the party is in full swing. Someone has started a keg stand in the living room. A group of girls are doing a coordinated dance to a TikTok song. The punch bowl has been refilled twice. Bryce and Cortney are both tipsy now, laughing at nothing, the earlier panic forgotten. Then the lights flicker again. Just for a second. Just enough to make everyone pause. Then they come back on, steady and bright. The DJ laughs into the mic. "Don't worry, guys! Just the old wiring in this place. Keep partying!" The crowd cheers. The music swells. And Bryce and Cortney look at each other, a flicker of unease passing between them before they shake it off and grab another drink. The party continues as though nothing strange happened. As Stephanie Ryan appears from the criwdtowrds them.

Stephanie glides through the crowd with an unsettling confidence, smileing her eyes alluring slightly. She stops right in front of Bryce, ignoring Cortney completely. "Hey there," Stephanie says, her voice cutting through the bass. "I saw you guys come back in. Everything okay?" "Yeah, fine," Bryce says, stepping back slightly. "Just a power outage." "Right. Just a power outage." Stephanie's smile doesn't waver. She leans in closer, lowering her voice. "Listen, that party I mentioned earlier? It's still happening. Smaller crowd, better vibes. You should come." Cortney steps forward. "We're good here." Stephanie's eyes flick to Cortney for the first time, and something cold passes through them something calming. " are you sure..your welcome as well Cortney." Before Cortney can respond, the lights flicker again. This time, they stay off for a full three seconds. When they come back, Stephanie is gone. Not walking away—gone. The crowd surges around them as if she was never there. "Did you see where she went?" Bryce asks, spinning around. "No," Cortney says slowly. "I didn't" Bryce rubs his face. The alcohol is making everything feel hazy, unreal. "I think I need some air." They push back toward the back door, but when they step outside, the bonfire is out. Completely out. Not smoldering, not smoking—just dead, as if it had been doused. The field is dark, the treeline silent. And then they hear it. A moan, distant and sharp, coming from the woods.

Bryce and Cortney freeze, listening. The moan comes again—this time unmistakably a sound of pleasure, not pain. It's Tara's voice. "That's her," Cortney whispers, already moving toward the treeline. "Cortney, wait—" But she's gone, disappearing into the darkness. Bryce follows, his heart pounding. The woods close in around them, branches snagging at their clothes. The moans grow louder, more frequent, unmistakable in their ecstasy. They break through a clearing and stop dead. Tara is there, pressed against a tree, the man in the leather jacket kneeling before her. Her head is thrown back, her fingers tangled in his hair. She's making those sounds—sounds of pure bliss. "Oh my god," Cortney breathes. Tara's eyes flutter open. She sees them. And she smiles—a slow, knowing smile that doesn't belong to the Tara they know. "Care to join?" the man in the leather jacket asks, not bothering to turn around. Cortney's face flushes. Bryce is speechless. Tara laughs, a sound like breaking glass. "Relax, guys. I'm fine. Better than fine. Go back to the party. I'll catch up."