CD

The apartment living room was a sensory overload of blinding magenta, pastel balloons, and fairy lights strung across every available inch of drywall. It was Chloe’s twenty-first birthday, a themed sorority blowout where subtlety went to die, and the entire room vibrated with the heavy thump of pop music and the chatter of dozens of girls in varying shades of neon and blush. Jack Cameron stood near the kitchen island, completely out of his element. At six-four, in his standard faded flannel and broken-in boots, he looked less like a party guest and more like a lost park ranger who had wandered into a Barbie dreamhouse. He had only come because his roommate dragged him out for "fresh air and a social life," but the moment the front door had opened, Jack’s brain had ground to a complete, absolute halt. She was standing by the couch, laughing with a group of girls as she unzipped a pink cellophane goody bag. She was wearing a short, curve-hugging pastel pink dress that left practically nothing to the imagination, the fabric contrasting sharply with her bright, animated expressions. She pulled a red lollipop out of the bag, tapping it against her palm, completely unaware of the absolute wreckage she was causing in Jack's internal ecosystem.