Arabella Montgomery wasn't a party girl. She was *the* party girl. If there was an event on campus worth attending, she was either on the VIP list or not interested at all.
And tonight's party? The first big school party of the semester? She was on that list.
Across the room, Adrian sat on his bed, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone like the world could explode and he still wouldn't care.
She side-eyed him. "You're really not going?"
"No," he said flatly.
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Uhh, you're so boring."
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door.
Arabella, wrapped in her silk robe, strutted over and yanked it open—only to be met with a tall boy in a hoodie, smirking like he owned the place.
"Uh, who are you?" she demanded, eyebrows arching.
The boy looked her up and down with a teasing grin. "Whoa. And who are *you*? Adrian didn't tell me he was living with a runway model."
Arabella scoffed. "Ew. Flirting doesn't work on me. Get lost."
"Wow. She bites." He laughed lightly, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn't going anywhere.
"Are you deaf? I said—"
"Zayn," Adrian's calm voice cut through. He had finally pulled his earbuds out.
Arabella turned around. "You know this idiot?"
"Unfortunately," Adrian muttered, getting off the bed. "He's my best friend."
"Best friend?" she repeated, incredulous. "Then explain why he's breathing my air."
Zayn raised his hands like he was innocent. "I'm just here to drag this boring man to the party."
"I'm not going," Adrian said simply.
Zayn groaned. "Oh, come on. It's the first party of the semester. There'll be music, drinks, hot girls—"
Arabella crossed her arms. "Hot girls? Ew."
Zayn grinned at her. "Not my fault if you're the hottest one here."
She made a disgusted noise and slammed the door shut in his face.
---
**Later that evening**
Arabella stood in front of the mirror, applying her lip gloss with the precision of a queen. Her body con outfit was loud — short, silky, revealing, and expensive. She smirked at her reflection.
"Let them stare," she whispered to herself.
Meanwhile, Zayn had somehow managed to convince Adrian to get dressed, at least halfway decent.
"You're coming," Zayn declared, flopping onto Adrian's bed again.
"I'm not."
"Then I'll drag you there," Zayn threatened, grinning.
"You're annoying," Adrian muttered.
"You love me," Zayn shot back.
Adrian sighed — and for the first time that evening, picked up a shirt that wasn't plain black.
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