Chapter 4: Dragged Out

Kaplan reluctantly dressed for the party in a pair of medium washed blue jeans and light flannel.  He slipped on his boots looking like he was more likely to go on a hike than a party.  His lack of care for his appearance only accentuated his wide shoulders and trim waist.  His sleeves, rolled up, clung onto his arm muscles, flirting with being too tight.  He looked in the mirror.  He gently combed is sandy blond hair so it looked less disheveled from running his hands through it when he was in deep thought.  His tiger pendant, ever present, kissed his chest, and he noticed that the tiger’s eyes mirrored his own.

“Hey, Kap, we gotta go, man.  Those honeys won’t wait!” hollered Diego from the living room.

Kaplan gave a deep sigh and turned off the bathroom light and headed out. 

The door to the apartment loft swung open, and the trio stepped inside, immediately swallowed by music, chatter, and the warm glow of string lights draped across the ceiling. The hum of conversation and laughter was thick, a tangled mix of energy and careless abandon.

Kaplan’s eyes scanned the room, scanning for familiar faces, trying not to get lost in the chaos. That’s when he spotted Sam, sitting at a small table tucked near the corner. Her posture was calm, almost statuesque, a book in one hand and a glass of water in the other, eyes scanning the room with quiet amusement. She didn’t seem entirely here — and yet, she was.

“Kaplan,” Sam called dryly, without looking up from her book. Her voice carried a hint of mockery over the music. “Finally decided to emerge from your brooding cave?”

Kaplan rolled his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Had to be dragged out.”

Ethan and Diego exchanged amused glances as they approached the table. Ethan dropped onto the edge of the bench beside Sam, giving a small nod. “You’ve been holding court without us?”

Sam arched an eyebrow, eyes flicking to Ethan with just enough wit to keep him in check. “Someone has to keep the world from collapsing into chaos while you two are running around like idiots.” She paused, letting the statement hang in the air like a challenge. Then, softer, she added, “And Kaplan, you might want to look like you actually want to be here.”

Kaplan smirked, leaning back. “Noted, as always.”

Diego, meanwhile, had already begun gesturing wildly to the crowd behind them, scanning for anyone interesting to bother. “Guys, the night is young. We could be making memories—or at least some really bad decisions.”

Sam shot him a look, deadpan and unimpressed. “I’d rather make good decisions, thank you very much.”

Kaplan laughed, shaking his head. Sam’s grounded, razor-sharp humor was exactly what he needed to keep him from disappearing entirely into his own head.  Samira “Sam” Qureshi was good friend.  They connected when they first met in their Philosophy and Animals class.  Sam was taking it for her Philosophy degree and Kaplan thought it would enhance his understanding of animal cognition. Sam is Pakistani-American, which has proved invaluable for Kaplan in studying Harappa since it sits in Pakistan, even though it was formerly on Indian territory.  She didn’t mind answering banal questions about culture, food, and mythologies although she had only been there once when she was a teenager to visit family.

Diego had the bright idea to coax Sam onto the dance floor.  Sam’s deep brown eyes looked almost black in the dimly lit loft, but sparkled as she rolled her eyes at Diego.  She conceded and moved her tiny frame onto the dancefloor, dancing so that she had to keep flipping her thick black hair off of her neck to cool down. 

The pulsing beat of the music had Diego and Sam twirling and laughing in the middle of the living room, their antics drawing cheers from the other partygoers. Kaplan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, scanning the room in quiet observation. The chaotic energy was part exhilarating, part exhausting — he preferred watching the flow of the crowd, the little currents of personality and interaction that most people missed.

That’s when he noticed Ethan.

Ethan had slid to the edge of the room, eyes locked on someone who had just walked in: Priya Nair. Her presence was like a ripple of warmth across the chaos. With a stack of books tucked under one arm and a wide, radiant smile, she moved through the crowd effortlessly, waving here, laughing there, and somehow remembering everyone’s name. The way she carried herself — open, approachable, and genuinely interested — was magnetic.

Kaplan’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. Ethan, normally so composed and practical, was frozen in place, face tinged with pink. He had a crush — an obvious one that everyone except Priya herself had noticed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, which, Kaplan thought, was both rare and endlessly amusing.

Priya’s attention didn’t falter. She scanned the room, spotting Ethan’s awkward posture and walking straight toward him. “Ethan! There you are! I’ve been trying to find you all over,” she said, her voice bubbly, tinged with amusement at his stunned expression. “Come on, I was just telling someone about that study session tomorrow — you have to come!”

Ethan’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again, words failing him. Kaplan couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. Priya reached out, lightly tugging Ethan toward the corner where they could talk.

From his perch against the wall, Kaplan watched the interaction, noting the warmth in her smile and the way she naturally eased tension wherever she went. This was the kind of person who could bring people together without even trying — someone who could smooth the rough edges of any room, and perhaps, he thought, bridge gaps he didn’t even realize existed yet.

Meanwhile, the party swirled around them: Diego still dancing wildly with Sam, the music thumping, Maddie arriving soon to inject her own calculated energy. And somewhere beneath it all, a faint pulse of anticipation stirred in Kaplan’s chest, the tiger inside him whispering — always aware, always watching.