The night air hummed with music. Bass thumped through the walls of the crowded fraternity house, and the flashing lights turned everything into a blur of gold, pink, and electric blue. But even through all the chaos, everyone noticed when **Arabella Montgomery** walked in.
Heads turned. Conversations paused.
She stood at the entrance in a silk bodycon dress, her hair sleek and glowing under the colored lights, every step dripping with confidence. She had that kind of presence — like she *owned* the place without saying a single word.
"Arabella's here," someone whispered.
She gave a small, practiced smirk. *Of course she was.*
---
A few steps away, Adrian leaned against the wall with Zayn, hands tucked into his pockets, wearing a dark shirt that hugged him just right. He wasn't here for the party — he was here because Zayn had dragged him.
"Loosen up, man," Zayn shouted over the music, handing him a red cup. "It's college! You only live once!"
"I'm not drinking," Adrian said flatly.
Zayn groaned. "You're no fun."
Meanwhile, Arabella was *in her element*. She danced with her friends, hair swaying as they laughed and took endless videos. It was loud, dizzy, perfect. She didn't even notice Adrian watching from across the room, his expression unreadable.
---
But as the night grew longer, little cracks began to show.
Her so-called friends — the same girls who clung to her for free rides, expensive dinners, and attention — started drifting away. One by one, they slipped off with upperclassmen or disappeared into the crowd.
At the drink table, Adrian overheard a group of girls giggling.
"She's so spoiled," one of them said.
"Yeah, if she wasn't rich, no one would even look at her."
"She's so fake, acting like a princess."
Adrian didn't flinch, but their words lingered. *They're not wrong,* he thought silently.
---
Across the room, Arabella sat alone on a barstool, her earlier glow dimmed a little. She tilted her phone up, fixing her hair and posing for a quick video on her story. The loud music swallowed everything else, and she looked… small. Still stunning, but not untouchable anymore.
Zayn elbowed Adrian. "She's alone, man."
"And?" Adrian replied.
Zayn shook his head, but Adrian didn't move.
---
Minutes later, a group of senior guys approached Arabella. They reeked of alcohol and cheap smoke, tattoos peeking out from under their sleeves.
"Hey, pretty thing," one of them slurred, leaning too close.
She pushed his arm away immediately. "Back off. I don't do losers."
They laughed like hyenas. Another reached out to grab a strand of her hair. "Feisty. We like that."
She stood up, eyes sharp. "Touch me again, and you'll regret it."
But instead of backing off, they closed in. One grabbed her wrist. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming.
---
Adrian's jaw tightened when he saw it happen. He didn't think — he moved.
Zayn blinked. "Bro— Adrian?"
He shoved through the crowd. The music pounded around him, but in his head, everything fell quiet.
"Let go of her," Adrian said, his voice low and cold.
The guy turned, laughing. "Or what?"
In one smooth motion, Adrian pulled Arabella back, his arm steady around her. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't make a scene. He just stared the guy down — and something in that stare made the senior step back.
Adrian slid his jacket around Arabella's shoulders. Her perfume mixed with his clean, faint scent. For a second, their eyes met — her mascara smudged slightly, his gaze unreadable.
She jerked away. "I don't need your help," she spat, voice cracking just a little.
Then she stormed out of the party, heels clicking hard against the floor. She didn't wait for him. Didn't look back.
---
Adrian stood there, hands in his pockets again, as if nothing had happened. Zayn came up behind him, shaking his head.
"You're unbelievable," Zayn muttered.
Adrian's expression didn't change. "She would've been fine."
But as he walked back to the dorm later that night, the image of her storming out with his jacket on lingered in the back of his mind — and he hated that it did.