Just as Freya was about to slam her head into the concrete, a hero intervened, catching her in mid-fall.

"What the hell just happened?" Cooper exclaimed, bewildered, having missed the tense exchange between Freya and Reese.

"I'm not sure," Tate replied, still in shock from his swift rescue. "From where I was standing, she looked like she was going to pass out. She didn't look well, and I didn't think I'd reach her in time."

"Lucky you caught her," Cooper said, clapping Tate on the back.

Tate carefully lifted Freya into his arms and followed Cooper into the house, asking, "Can you show me where I can lay her down?"

Cooper nodded, leading him upstairs to a guest bedroom. "You can put her on the bed in here. Just shut the door behind you when you leave. And keep this quiet – no one needs to know she's here, especially not Isaiah or my parents if they come home."

Tate gently placed Freya on the bed, then turned to Cooper, his hazel eyes locked on his. "Coop, don't shut down the party. Let everyone outside enjoy themselves for one more night. No one's hurt, thankfully. Let's just keep this to ourselves for now."

Cooper nodded in agreement with Tate.

"But we need to get Reese out of here," Tate added firmly. "I don't know what's behind his vendetta against Freya or why he's blaming the new principal for his dad's firing, but I'm certain he spiked her drink."

Cooper's expression turned serious. "He's already made threats against her in school," Cooper reveals. "I'm not sure if she's encountered him elsewhere, but I did intervene once. Still, I think he genuinely wants to hurt her."

Tate's eyes narrowed. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen."

...

Freya slowly came to, finding herself in an unfamiliar room. She was disoriented and confused, with no memory of how she got there. As she tried to sit up and look for a way out, a voice stopped her. "Whoa, hold on," Tate said, quickly getting up from the chair beside the bed. "You shouldn't be standing right now. You might have a mild concussion, so you should rest."

Freya's eyes locked onto Tate's, her mind foggy. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice weak.

Tate smiled calmly. "You're at Cooper's house, with me. I'm Tate." But before she could say more, Freya's eyelids drooped, and she fell back onto the bed, unconscious once again.

...

When Freya woke up for the second time, she was more aware of her surroundings. However, she was alone.

Hours had passed, and an eerie silence filled the empty house. The party had ended, and everyone had gone home. Freya, still wearing her dress and jean jacket, carried her flats in her hand as she walked calmly through the hall, searching for a way out.

As she turned a corner, she saw Cooper emerging from the bathroom, his brown hair wet and spiked. "You look better after a nap," he said with a smile.

"I wish I felt as good as I look," Freya replied, "but I feel awful, and I have no idea how I ended up sleeping here."

"You had a lot to drink," Cooper said.

"No, I only had a few sips," Freya corrected.

Cooper's eyes widened in surprise. "A few sips knocked you out? That's all it took?"

Freya nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Cooper's expression changed, and he began to flirt with her. "Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?"

Freya raised an eyebrow, confused. "Um, no, not really," she replied. Cooper's finger brushed against her cheek, and he commented on her freckles. Freya pushed his hand away. "Please don't touch me."

"As you wish."

Just then, a figure approached them, holding two objects. "Isaiah, I was just about to come ask you if you had the–" He looked up, saw Freya, and stopped mid-sentence. "Freya? Hey, what are you doing awake and talking with my brother, my twin brother?"