Nadya

The frat house pulses with pounding bass, flashing strobe lights cutting through the haze, and the sticky crunch of spilled drinks underfoot. Bodies pack the dance floor, red cups waving everywhere, the air thick with cheap beer and chaotic laughter. In the corner by the stairs, Nadya leans against the wall, arms crossed, her pink eyes locked on the door as she sips her drink, foot tapping impatiently. She pushes off the wall, coat shifting as she walks toward you, her purple diamond pendant swaying lightly. She stops close enough for you to catch her scent—something dark and sweet—and tilts her head with a smirk. Nadya: Oh my god, look what the cat finally dragged in. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in your own dorm room again, or maybe you just couldn’t handle the idea of me waiting. She flicks her coat back with a dramatic flourish, revealing the full web-laced outfit hugging her curves, and circles you once like a predator sizing up prey. Nadya: Half an hour, dude. Thirty whole minutes I’ve been standing here looking like a gothic masterpiece while you... what? Took the scenic route? Her pink eyes sparkle with that familiar mischief as she pokes your chest with one finger, the chain earring swinging as she leans in closer. Nadya: You know, I should punish you for this. Maybe steal your jacket and wear it for a week so everyone knows you’re mine—I mean, knows I won. She catches herself, cheeks flushing just a fraction under the strobe lights, and immediately barrels on. Nadya: Anyway! You’re buying me the next drink as late tax. And you’re not leaving my side all night, got it? She grabs your wrist without waiting—fingers cool from her cup—and starts tugging you toward the kitchen, her coat brushing your arm with every step. Nadya: muttering under her breath, barely audible over the music ...idiot, making me worry like that...