Chapter 3

“Autumn! There you are!” Allison’s voice cut through the pulsing noise of the party with a tipsy hiccup. She pushed her way through the dense crowd, her eyes glassy from several drinks but bright with obvious relief the moment they landed on her best friend. She exhaled deeply, placing both hands on her thighs as if the search had been an exhausting journey, then maneuvered past the guy who had been speaking to Autumn.  

Autumn offered the stranger an apologetic smile, his cheeks already warming with embarrassment. Before he could get another word out, Allison grabbed the front of his shirt with surprising strength and started tugging him toward the door, giggling the whole way with that carefree, drunken energy she only showed on rare nights like this.  

“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” Autumn muttered, letting her pull him along while throwing one last regretful glance over his shoulder.  

Vegas stood frozen in place, staring at the dark, spreading stain across his chest. The cold liquid had soaked through his expensive designer shirt, clinging uncomfortably to his skin and sending a chill down his spine. He barely registered the girl’s slurred laughter or the way she dragged the boy—Autumn—away like a lost puppy on a leash. The disrespect hit him harder than the ruined fabric ever could. No one ignored him. No one treated him like he was invisible, especially not in a room full of people who usually orbited around him hoping for a scrap of attention.  

'Who the hell was that?' The question burned in his mind as the party lights continued flashing around him, casting erratic shadows across the crowded room.  

“Clairemont!” Julian’s voice boomed behind him, loud enough to cut through the music. “Where you been, man?”  Remmy appeared next, reaching curiously for Vegas’s sleeve. “Bro, what happened to your shirt?”  

Vegas exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched tight. “Some clumsy idiot just spilled his drink all over me. Let’s get out of here. I’m done with this place.”  

He slammed his empty glass onto the nearest table with more force than necessary and shoved through the crowd, his broad shoulders clearing a path. The image of those wide brown eyes and the small, distinctive mole above soft lips kept flashing in his mind like a persistent afterimage. Autumn. Even the name irritated him now, lingering on his tongue like something he couldn’t quite spit out.  

Once outside in the cooler night air, he fired off a quick text to his butler, letting him know he wouldn’t be coming home tonight. He was crashing at Remmy’s condo. Remmy’s parents were in town, forcing their usual spot to shift. It still fascinated Vegas how Remmy had turned out so laid-back and reasonable despite his strict, uptight family. His older sisters always bowed to their parents’ rigid rules, but Remmy somehow navigated the pressure with surprising maturity.  

He climbed into his sleek car, trailing behind Julian’s vehicle as they pulled out of the parking lot. The streetlights cut sharp, intermittent beams across his face while he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His mind refused to let the incident go, replaying the moment again and again. The sudden collision, the cold splash, the way Autumn had been whisked away before he could even react properly.  

“Autumn…” he whispered under his breath, tasting the name like a threat this time instead of a casual label. He hadn’t caught a full view of the boy’s face under the chaotic party lights, but those warm brown eyes and the delicate mole just above his lips had etched themselves into his memory with surprising clarity.  

The longer he dwelled on it, the more his frustration boiled over. “I’ll make him pay for that,” he thundered suddenly, slamming his palm hard against the dashboard. The sound echoed inside the car, sharp and final. For now, though, all he craved was a long, scalding shower to wash away the sticky residue and the lingering sense of humiliation.  

.....  

Meanwhile, Autumn woke with a jolt, his heart hammering against his ribs. The dorm room was still wrapped in darkness, the faint glow from a distant street lamp barely piercing the curtains. He fumbled across the bed for his phone, which had slid to the far side during the night.  

3:45 a.m.  

He groaned softly, rubbing his tired eyes. His party clothes were still clinging to his body, and streaks of dried mascara stained his fingers when he touched his face. The memories pieced themselves together slowly: Allison passed out in the backseat of her chauffeur’s car, the quiet ride home, and his clumsy fumbling with the keys at the door for what had felt like an eternity.  

He dragged himself upright and checked the door, twisting the handle to confirm it was securely locked. A small wave of relief loosened the familiar knot of anxiety in his chest. He hated feeling exposed. Hated the lingering fear that someone could just walk in uninvited and shatter his fragile sense of safety, a fear rooted in experiences he wished he could forget.  

He shook the dark thought away and headed for the shower. Under the hot water, the night replayed in vivid fragments: the flashing, disorienting lights of the party, the surprisingly flirty bartender who had made his stomach flutter, and most persistently, the sharp, furious glare of the guy whose shirt he had accidentally ruined. The memory made him wince.  

“He probably doesn’t even remember my face,” Autumn muttered to himself, letting the steaming water cascade over his head and shoulders. He was invisible at school anyway, just another quiet face blending into the crowd of students rushing between classes. Still… he hoped they never crossed paths again. The thought of confronting that intense anger made his stomach twist uncomfortably.  

After drying off, he slipped into his softest pajamas and stood in front of his closet, carefully picking out an outfit for morning class: a simple white tank top, a bright yellow V-neck sweater, and comfortable brown pants. His hand brushed against the blue box tucked away at the very back of the shelf, his mother’s parting gift on moving day.  

She had hesitated before shoving it into his arms, followed by one of her signature bone-crushing hugs that always made him feel both loved and a little overwhelmed. Although he had acted excited about living on his own, the truth was he still felt lost without her constant presence. The weight of protecting himself now rested entirely on his shoulders, and some days it felt heavier than he had anticipated.  

For a long moment, he stared at the box. His stomach tightened painfully, and a thin layer of sweat broke out across his forehead. Too many memories lived inside that box. Too much fear and unresolved pain. He wasn’t ready to face any of it tonight.  

Not tonight.  

He shut the closet door firmly, climbed back into bed, and opened TikTok. The soft, comforting glow of cute cat videos filled the quiet room as he slowly let the chaotic night fade into the background, hoping sleep would come quickly and bring a fresh start in the morning.