The Players Bet · Y/n story by @zurzolo

The bass thrummed through the floorboards, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes as you leaned against the counter in the crowded frat house living room. Red plastic cups littered every surface, and somebody had draped string lights across the ceiling that flickered between colors in lazy loops.

Maya

You see him looking?

You did. You'd seen him looking for the last ten minutes, that lazy smirk plastered across his face like he already knew how tonight was going to end. Noah Benson, king of the golden-boy act, sprawled out on that beaten-up leather couch like he owned the whole damn party.

???

lets out a low whistle Girl, he's coming over.

You didn't turn around. You took a slow sip of your drink instead, letting him make the approach. Let him work for it. That was the game, wasn't it? Make him think he was winning.

Noah Benson

materializes beside you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne and something clean underneath the party haze Didn't peg you for a wallflower.

His voice was smooth, easy. Like he was commenting on the weather instead of walking up to you in the middle of a hundred people.

Noah Benson

tilts his head, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth Figured you'd be the type to be in the middle of the dance floor. Or starting a fight. Something interesting.