I Don't Belong In This Club is Krista's theme song every time she comes to work, lol. The lyrics fit her attitude so well.

Are there any songs you can think of that match the vibe of this book? I 'd love to hear your suggestions!

to attend before I could go home for the day. As I rounded the corner of Humanities 2, a red brick building with grey pillars, I saw Quen, Noah and Fraser sitting on the lawn together.

I immediately plastered myself to the nearest pillar, the stone cold against my back. I didn't know why I hid like that. My usual modus operandi would be to march over and ignite some witty repartee like I had done so many times before. But some part of me wanted to just observe Quen, see how he was like with his friends when his guard was completely down.

Quen had a textbook spread open on his crossed legs. He read with his chin propped on his hand and his elbow propped on his knee. Occasionally his friends would say something between themselves and crack up laughing, at which point he would simply lift his head, arch an amused but composed eyebrow and return to his textbook.

He looked so refined, so intelligent, when he made expressions like that. In the sunlight, it was warm enough to shed his hoodie, which lay on top of his backpack. Quen's green long-sleeved sweatshirt was loose around his lower torso but slightly tight around his shoulders and chest, which tempted my imagination to no end.

Maybe it was the matter of his friends that prevented me from going over there. My only encounters with Noah and Fraser had been at Topaz. Fraser had catcalled me the first time, but admittedly he had also apologised via direct message the day after. Plus, he had been so drunk he couldn't stand upright.

I didn't know how I should feel about that. Fraser was munching on a burrito, the aluminium foil glinting at me even from across the lawn. He looked positively harmless in the daytime.

On one hand, I'd read that alcohol didn't make a person do anything they didn't already have the capacity for; it just removed their inhibitions. Did that mean Fraser had the capacity to objectify and catcall women when he was sober, deep down?

It was hard to determine because, on the other hand, I didn't have the capacity to do half the things Drunk Kris did. I could totally imagine myself using foul language, being belligerent or handsy with strangers while intoxicated, and that didn't mean I thought those things were okay when I was sound of mind.

Across from him and Quen was Noah, the only one with his back to me. If I was being honest, it wasn't Fraser and his catcalling that bothered me the most. His apology had seemed sincere, and I had told him as much when I accepted it through Instagram. Then after a cheerful thanks, Fraser's messages to me had ended there.

Noah's had not.

Noah had apologised to me, too, on behalf of Fraser. But after we cleared the air about that, he kept sending messages asking about my degree, my hobbies, my job—and worst of all, reacting to my Instagram stories with none too innocent emojis. I might have been romantically challenged, going through a severe dry spell and introverted, but I was not stupid.

None of those actions seemed platonic to me, especially remembering the coy, subtle remarks he had made that night in Topaz' VIP lounge.

No, I really didn't want to talk to Quen in a group setting. I mean, not that group setting.

I circled around the pillar to the side furthest from the lawn and set off to my last lecture. I was far enough away that Quen and I plausibly might not see each other, so I kept my head forward as I walked. From my periphery, I saw a flash of green and skin, too quick and too distant to be sure of anything.

I wouldn't turn my gaze to find out.

The next time I went into work, Quen was the one who approached me.

He didn't seek me out in person, but he was the one who reached out, calling my phone number while I was chatting with the bartenders.

"Krista?" His voice was smooth and buttery, curling around my heart and giving it a light squeeze. Good God.

"Hey," I returned, making a conscious effort to keep my tone calm. "What's up?"

"I'm outside Topaz and—" A sudden exclamation came through the line, followed by an unfamiliar voice yelling. "—hey, wait, I'm just getting her now," Quen said to someone in the background. "So, we're about to get turned away because the bouncer thinks I'm drunk but I swear I'm not," he told me.

A breathy chuckle escaped me, knowing that Charlie was the bouncer on the doors tonight. That was a hilarious confrontation I had to see for myself. "I'm on my way," I answered.

"You're a lifesaver."

I leaned over the bar and told Zach I was taking a fresh air break outside. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. After I wove through the crowd and walked up the short flight of stairs to ground level, the cool nighttime breeze hit me in the face. It felt soothing on my skin, whirling my loose hair around my waist, and I sighed in relief.

" —look like you're burning up, dude," Charlie was saying to Quen. The observation was correct. Quen's cheeks were stained a bright shade of carmine, but his eyes were alert, focused and narrowed ever so frustratedly on Charlie.

"That's what my face does when I drink," I heard Quen retort tightly. "Like, every single time."

I nearly laughed there and then, remembering how badly he reddened when he drank. It was the same with me. Asian flush.

Charlie opened his mouth, the stern set of his brows indicating he was about to turn Quen, Noah and Fraser away, when I touched his elbow. "I've got it. I'll check them before they go in."

The large, muscled bouncer's frown melted like a popsicle in the sun, but he didn't smile. No other promoter could get away with pulling the strings I did, but since I was first-aid trained and had a lot of practical experience dealing with the physiological side of alcohol and drugs, all the bouncers trusted my judgment. I'd been the first responder when people passed out in the bathrooms or fainted on the dance floor multiple times.

Charlie gave me a begrudging nod, after which I beckoned Quen and his friends out of line. Noah and Fraser had been given the all-clear by Charlie, though it seemed to me that they were less sober than Quen. Noah's eyes had a hard time staying on my face, floating up and down my legs and body. Fraser was simply staring at the ground, swaying unsteadily occasionally. Amateurs.

The three of them stepped aside on the pavement to let another customer be interrogated by Charlie. I touched Quen's forehead lightly, stretching onto my toes to reach. His skin was a perfectly normal temperature, smooth to the touch. I almost wanted to linger, caress his cheek, but I forced myself to step away.

"Follow my finger," I said next.

Quen's eyes focused on my index finger, which I dragged left and right three times in front of his face. Responsive. When I dropped my finger, Quen's soulful brown eyes landed on mine. He arched a tired eyebrow like he was sick of having to deal with Charlie, wordlessly gauging my approval. For a second, I nearly fell into those warm irises of his. He's so fucking gorgeous it hurts.

I shook my head imperceptibly, clearing away those unprofessional thoughts. "Stand on your right leg." Quen obeyed, not wobbling at all. "Now your left." Textbook motor control. Keeping a blank face, I then commanded, "Drop and give me ten push-ups."

Quen was halfway to the ground when he froze and gave me a faux-wounded look. "Hey."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," I giggled. I called over to the bouncer, "They're fine, Charlie. If any of them throws up, I vow to clean it myself."

"Sure, princess," Charlie drawled, rolling his eyes like he didn't believe me.

"Love you, Charlie." I opened the door for Quen and his friends, the humid, thick air of the night club cloaking my skin once more as Topaz engulfed us.

Unfortunately for me, it was Noah who fell into stride beside me. "You really have to stop saving our asses," he smirked. "First the lounge and now this."

"I will if you guys stop needing to be saved," I said coolly.

"I don't know if I can stop," Noah admitted wryly. "I'm pretty bad at taking care of myself. Especially around beautiful women."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. The audacity of this boy.

Not only were my Instagram messages to him getting drier than a hungover mouth, with days between replies, but I was also pretty sure I was putting out obvious signals that I was into Quen. Speaking of Quen, I didn't dare turn my head back to see if he had heard Noah's blatant flirting. He was walking beside Fraser when they went into Topaz, probably ready to catch him if he decided to pass out again.

I grinned tightly, looking away. "I'm not that beautiful."

"You are, and you know it. And you want everyone else here to know it," Noah shot back confidently.

How much more obvious did I have to make it? Did I have to tattoo 'I like your friend' on my middle finger and show it to him?

"It's not my intention, Noah. I can tell you that," I answered instead, my voice steadily becoming more flinty than flowery. He was making it hard to stay in influencer mode.

When the three of them reached the bar, I rounded the corner to put some distance between us. I could see all their faces side by side, and noticed particularly the way Quen turned away from me to engage Fraser in a sloppy-looking conversation.

Noah seemed to detect my sourness because he promptly changed the topic of conversation. "I didn't know you would be working tonight. I did ask you about your shift times, but maybe you started before you could reply."

"I must have, sorry," I apologised tersely.

In reality, I always swiped away the notifications for his messages as soon as they appeared. Days. Days I made him wait, yet Noah wouldn't relent. I didn't understand it. He was good-looking, social and confident. I was sure he could easily find a more willing woman to pester.

It certainly wasn't going to be me.

"Gosh, Noah. I'm parched. Can you get me some water?"

Thankfully the water pitchers were dry as a bone, seeing as the bartenders had forgotten to refill them during the mad rush for alcohol at the bar. I hoped they wouldn't get around to topping the pitchers up any time soon.

"Take Fraser with you," I offered sweetly. "He looks a bit dehydrated."

Noah's eyes warmed at being asked for a favour from me, and he obliged with a smirk, "Sure thing."

Finally.

I slid around the bar and sidled up to Quen, letting his faint, mesmerising scent invade my brain. If only we were alone right now. If only this bar, those patrons, his clumsy, slightly annoying friends would all fade away. He was the only person that could make my night. Everyone else, everything else, was inconsequential to me.

Just you.

I cocked my head, appraising Quen's ruffled hair, slightly sweaty brow and red cheeks. He seemed much less cheerful than he had been outside Topaz, his eyes clouded and fixated on an empty point in space. I brushed my fingers over his hand, snapping his trance.

Quen shot me a watery smile. I attempted a jovial conversation, "Are you actually drunk though?"

"Slightly," he admitted, pinching his thumb and index finger close in the air. "Enough that I feel great. Not too much that you should kick me out. Noah and Fraser are faring worse than I am."

"I believe you."

"Good." Quen looked visibly relieved. "What's your job like, exactly? I don't think I pay attention or visit often enough to observe."

"Well, I'm a promoter," I said self-explanatorily. "So all I need to do is boost the headcounts for Topaz." I rattled off some examples of how I spent my time at work, "Sometimes I work the dancefloor or DJ stage to create a fun environment. Sometimes I work the line outside to entertain people while they wait and stop anyone from leaving. Sometimes I do meet and greets in the VIP lounge, which costs extra to enter."

"But I don't pay anything when we've gone up there."

"I put that on my tab," I shrugged.

"What? No!" Quen baulked at the prospect, his hands shooting straight to his hair. "You shouldn't have."

"Why not? I have a staff discount, and no-one really cares if the lounge isn't at capacity, anyway. Which it wasn't that night."

Quen ranted, his voice rising in both intensity and volume as he spoke. "I feel like I took advantage. I don't want you to think I'm mooching off your money. Or your job. Or your fame. Or your brains— okay, maybe that one I am using, but it's an unlimited resource, you know?"

To calm him down, I placed a hand on his shoulder. He shut up immediately, but his eyes were still guilt-ridden and frantic as he stared at me. I smirked, "Only slightly drunk, right?"

A breath chuckle escaped him before he relaxed and returned my smirk. "Absolutely."

I continued, "I don't like to think of my friendships in transactional terms.:

There was no such thing as owing money to me, especially if it came from a place of goodwill.

But I saw an opening. Surely, after weeks of studying together and passing banter back and forth, I was warm enough to shoot my shot. Quen knew now that I wasn't the immorally opportunistic sort of influencer. I'd made him laugh so many times, so found me slightly funny, at least. We'd talked about every crevice of our lives.

I really wanted him to like me back.

"But if you're so concerned about things being equitable, why don't you buy me lunch on campus and we'll call it even?"

That was about as smooth as I could get. I really hoped he would take me up on the offer because then I could say we had definitively gone on a date. We would have finally taken that step further that might lead to other further steps. Not a study session or a drunken encounter in a club, which I didn't count as dates.

Even if it was only to settle a balance with him.

"Genius," Quen nodded. "Let's do it."

My heart soared in triumph, but I kept my gaze steady as I teased, "That is if you can remember this conversation after tonight."

"I definitely will."

Quen opened his mouth to say something more, but just then Noah and Fraser returned, each with two paper cups of water in their hands. I took one from Noah graciously, not missing the way his eyes held mine as I took a small sip. Ugh. I did not want to deal with him any more.

I had a job to do, after all. Quen's eyes swung like a pendulum between Noah and me, but I tried to give him a reassuring smile as I made my exit. "Well, back to the grind, boys. I'll see you later."

All three of them sent their farewells my way, but I had already turned my back and started retreating when I heard them. I slipped behind the bar at the far end, nearly out of sight of Quen, Noah and Fraser.

Zach was taking drink orders at the first till, but he shot a smug glance my way in between customers. "That's the third time you've talked to that boy this semester."

I gave him a deadpan look. "He's a friend from uni."

"Do you want to bone all your uni friends?" he said nonchalantly, as if wondering if it would rain tomorrow.

"Zach!" I glared indignantly at my manager. "You're not allowed to say stuff like that to your employees."

"And you're not allowed to roast your employer every single time you clock in, but here we are," he smiled cheekily. "Besides, am I wrong?"

I couldn't say that he was.

In fact, over these eight or so months, Zach had come to know me very well. He could tell when I felt unsafe or uncomfortable on the floor. He could tell when I felt overstimulated by the music and the lights and needed a break out the back. And it seems he could tell within an instant when I was hopelessly smitten. And sexually frustrated.

"Fuck you," I scowled.

"Bless," Zach greeted my expletive with his signature good spirits, placing a hand over his heart. "Anyways, I think it's very sweet that it's a nerd who managed to steal your heart. But make sure to spread the love around. Show the customers some special Krista care."

"I do!"

"Well, more. I've got a dozen girls — minimum — who are," he adopted a feminine whine and flicked his wrist down in an impression of the girls he was describing, "—like, literally dying to ask you where you got your outfit from."