Of course, the universe wasn't done with me yet.

As we stood talking, I felt him before I saw him—Bryan's unmistakable presence cutting through the noise like it always did. My shoulders tensed involuntarily as he sauntered onto the patio, his white tunic catching the low light, the gold laurel resting crookedly atop his dark hair as though he couldn't be bothered to fix it.

He looked annoyingly good—again. The tattoos on his forearms contrasted sharply against the pristine white fabric, and the slight curl of his lips screamed trouble.

"You all hiding out here?" he asked, his voice carrying smoothly over the chatter.

"No," I muttered, turning away and hoping he'd get the hint.

Unfortunately, Bryan never got hints.

"Relax, Ballerina, I'm not here to torment you," he said, though his smirk suggested otherwise.

Kyle chimed in, waving him over. "Bryan, man, did you see the beer pong outside? Blake's already calling himself undefeated, so you've got some work to do."

"Blake talks too much," Bryan replied, leaning against the patio door frame. His dark eyes flicked to me again, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. "What about you? You playing?"

"No," I replied flatly, refusing to look at him. "I don't play beer pong."

"Shocking," he said with mock surprise, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you do anything fun?"

Isabella, ever the instigator, elbowed me playfully. "She sings."

"Izzy!" I hissed, my face heating up immediately.

Bryan's grin widened, slow and deliberate. "She sings? You mean like the other night?"

"That doesn't count," I snapped, glaring at Isabella, who only shrugged with a mischievous smile.

Bryan tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my golden chains and then back up to my face. "Well, you're dressed for attention tonight. You may as well show off a little more."

Something about the way he said it—smooth, teasing, and full of something else I couldn't name—made my heart skip a beat.

I crossed my arms tightly. "Stop talking."

"Make me," he shot back, his smirk deepening as he pushed off the doorframe.

Before I could fire back, Celeste saved me by grabbing my arm. "Enough! Let's get a drink and avoid all competitive games, shall we?"

"Yes," I muttered, grateful for the escape. I let her pull me inside, my cheeks still burning as Bryan's laughter followed me into the house.

The rest of the party was a blur of loud music, glittering costumes, and endless chatter. I avoided Bryan as best I could, keeping close to Isabella and Celeste as we wove through the crowd. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of him—laughing with his friends, tossing a ping-pong ball into a red cup with an infuriating amount of skill—but I refused to let him take up space in my head.

Isabella, of course, was thriving. She'd managed to rope Blake into a dance-off in the living room, her fairy wings bouncing with every step as she twirled under the flashing party lights.

"Amber, come dance!" she called, grabbing my hand.

"No way!" I shouted back over the music.

"Lame!" she teased, spinning back into Blake's orbit.

I stood off to the side, sipping my soda and letting the chaos swirl around me. I'd survived this long without incident—without Bryan getting under my skin any more than usual.

But somehow, deep down, I knew the night wasn't over yet.

The night had stretched on, hours dissolving into a mix of music, chatter, and loud cheers as people huddled in Bryan's backyard to watch the beer pong tournament. Despite the sharp chill of the October air, no one seemed to care. The glow of string lights overhead cast a soft golden hue across the crowd, and laughter mingled with the distant thrum of bass-heavy music.

I stood close to Isabella near the patio, clutching my half-empty soda can as I shivered lightly. My costume, though stunning in its own way, offered very little protection against the cold, the gold chains and flowing white fabric doing nothing to keep me warm. I adjusted the hem of my skirt nervously and shifted my weight, hoping to ignore the way the icy breeze bit at my bare skin.

"You look like you're freezing," Isabella said, pulling her glitter-covered cardigan tighter around herself. Her fairy wings bounced as she moved, her curls framing her face like she was straight out of a fairytale.

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing a small smile. "You don't have to keep babysitting me, Izzy."

She gave me a look. "You're my best friend. Babysitting comes with the title."

I shook my head with a small laugh, but it didn't last long. My eyes wandered to the far end of the backyard, where Bryan stood at the beer pong table, looking maddeningly unbothered by the cold. His white Greek god tunic hung effortlessly off one shoulder, his tanned arms exposed to reveal the sharp, dark ink of his tattoos.

He was laughing at something—probably one of Kyle's bad jokes—and holding a ping-pong ball with that infuriating confidence he carried everywhere. A part of me hated how effortless he made everything look, from the way the gold laurel rested atop his dark, tousled hair to the way his smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

I snapped my gaze away quickly, feeling my face heat for no good reason. He's still insufferable.

Everything happened too fast.

I was distracted, zoning out to the chatter of the crowd, when I suddenly felt hands grab me from behind.

"What the—!" I shrieked as my feet left the ground, my arms flailing instinctively to grab onto something—anything—but I couldn't.

"Amber needs to loosen up!" a drunken voice shouted, followed by a round of laughter. I barely had time to register who it was before my stomach dropped.

"Stop! Put me down!" I yelled, panic clawing up my throat. My heart slammed against my ribcage, my limbs kicking frantically as he carried me toward the pool.

"Relax, it's just a joke!" he laughed, his voice blending with the cheers of his equally drunk friends.

"No! Don't—!"

I didn't get to finish. My scream turned into a gasp as I was tossed into the air, weightless for a split second before I hit the water.

The shock of the icy pool knocked the air clean out of my lungs. The sound of the crowd vanished in an instant, muffled and distant as the freezing water closed over me. My chest burned immediately, my limbs heavy as my costume tangled around my legs, the golden chains dragging against my skin like weights.

Up. Where's up?

I thrashed, panic setting in as I tried to find the surface, but the cold slowed me down. My heart pounded louder than anything else, the pressure in my chest building as I fought to breathe.

No—no, no, no...

"Wait... she's not coming up."

The laughter faltered, replaced by murmurs and confusion.

"Is she... okay?"

"She can't swim!" Isabella's voice pierced the night, shrill and panicked. "Bryan! Get her!"

There was a heavy splash, and then strong arms wrapped around me in the water, pulling me up.

When I broke the surface, I gasped, choking and coughing as I tried to suck in air. My entire body shook violently, my limbs too weak to move as the cold seeped into my bones.

"Amber," Bryan's voice was rough, close to my ear. "I've got you. Stop moving—you're okay."

I clung to him instinctively, too dazed and frozen to do anything else. His arms tightened around me, his body steady and solid as he swam us to the pool's edge.

"Get out of the way!" Bryan barked, his voice sharp as he hauled me out of the water with him. He didn't set me down. Instead, he held me against his chest, shielding me from the cold air and the crowd now gathering nearby.

My breath stuttered as I realized the wet fabric of my costume had turned transparent, clinging to every inch of me like a second skin. My cheeks burned with humiliation as I curled into Bryan's chest, hiding as much as I could.

Bryan didn't hesitate. He shrugged off the top layer of his soaked tunic and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders, holding me against him like a shield. "Back off," he snapped, his dark eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at the onlookers. "The show's over. Get inside."

People scattered quickly under his glare, mumbling apologies, but Bryan didn't move. His arms stayed firmly around me, the steady thud of his heart against my ear grounding me in the chaos.

"Amber," Isabella's voice cracked as she pushed through the crowd, her face pale with worry. "Are you okay? I—oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know—"

"She's fine," Bryan said shortly. "I'm taking her upstairs."

Before I could protest, he adjusted his grip on me and carried me toward the house, his arms steady and strong as if I weighed nothing at all.

Bryan kicked open the door to his room, his expression tight as he brought me inside. The room was dimly lit, warmer than outside, and smelled faintly of his soap and cologne. He set me down gently on the edge of the bed, but his hands lingered, steadying me as I shivered violently.

"Stay here," he said firmly. He grabbed a thick blanket from the chair in the corner and wrapped it around me, crouching down in front of me. "You're freezing."

I couldn't stop trembling, tears blurring my vision as I tried to wipe at my face. I hated that I was crying—hated that my body wouldn't listen to me.

"I'm—fine," I stammered weakly, though my teeth chattered.

"You're not fine," Bryan said, his voice quieter now. His brow furrowed as he reached for a tissue box on his desk, pulling a few out and gently wiping the smudged makeup from under my eyes.

"Hold still," he muttered, his touch softer than I'd ever thought possible.

I didn't resist him. My body felt heavy, too tired to fight as he cleaned the streaks of mascara from my cheeks.

The night had unraveled in a way I hadn't expected.

Laughter and cheers still echoed faintly from outside, but in Bryan's room, everything was still. Too still. I sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a thick blanket that did little to stop my shaking. My chest rose and fell unevenly as tears spilled silently down my cheeks, my body refusing to cooperate no matter how hard I tried to pull myself together.

Bryan stood nearby, his face unreadable as he rummaged through his closet. He didn't speak—didn't say anything about the way I looked curled up in his oversized tunic, soaking wet and shaking like a leaf. He simply moved. Steady. Calm.

It made me feel even smaller.

When he finally turned around, he held out a bundle of clothes—his clothes. A thick black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. They looked warm and impossibly soft, and right now, I would've given anything to stop trembling.

"Here," he said, stepping closer and crouching slightly to meet my gaze. His voice had softened since earlier, though it still carried that low, grounded tone that I wasn't used to hearing from him. "You need to get out of those wet clothes."

I nodded weakly, clutching the blanket tighter as more tears fell. My throat felt tight, as though any word I tried to speak would shatter me completely. I hated that he was seeing me like this—small, fragile, broken.

"Amber," Bryan said quietly, still crouched in front of me. His gaze softened, and for once, there was no teasing, no smugness—only concern. "You can't stay like this. You're freezing."

"I... I can't—" I stammered, my voice catching as I tried to pull myself up to move. My limbs still felt like lead, my body wracked with shivers that refused to stop. The cold had dug into my bones, and I felt like if I stood, I'd collapse again.

Bryan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair as he looked at me. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he said, "It's fine. I'll help you. Just... don't freak out, okay?"

I blinked up at him, startled. "What?"

He held up his hands slightly. "I'll help. I'm not going to do anything weird. I just don't want you getting sick because you're too stubborn to let someone help you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. I felt too raw, too drained to fight him, and I knew deep down that he wasn't wrong.