The bass from Niki's party thumped through the walls of his basement, rattling red solo cups on the shelves. Somewhere upstairs, someone had already broken a lamp. Down here, it was all smoke, cheap cologne, and the kind of loud that made your ribs vibrate.

Y/n was perched on the arm of the worn leather couch, legs crossed in baby-pink knee-high boots, watching the chaos like it was a mildly interesting movie. The smell of coconut and vanilla clung to her even through the haze of weed and spilled beer.