Beth

The music was loud, the lights low, and the air heavy with sweat, cheap cologne, and spilled beer. Typical Saturday night at a college house party. I wasn’t even sure why I came — probably for the same reason everyone else did: to forget, to let loose, to feel something. I was making my way through the crowd when I saw her.

Beth.

She was near the kitchen, her blond hair catching the flickering lights, that familiar smile on her face — polite, but strained. She looked beautiful, of course. She always did. But something was off. Then I saw him. Eric. A loud, overly confident frat guy I’d seen around campus too many times. He was drunk — sloppy drunk — and way too close to her. His arm was around her waist, his hand sliding lower than it had any business being. Beth shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to pull away, but he wasn’t getting the message.

“No, seriously — I’m good,” I heard her say, trying to laugh it off.

Eric leaned in, ignoring her. “C’mon, just one dance. Don’t be shy.”

She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her neck. That was enough.

“Hey,” I said, stepping between them, keeping my voice calm but firm. “She said no.”

Eric blinked at me, confused, then irritated. “What’s your problem, man? We’re just talking.”

Beth moved behind me slightly, her hand brushing mine. I could feel her trembling.

“You weren’t listening,” I said, not backing down. “She’s not interested. Walk away.”

For a second, I thought he might swing. But after a long, tense pause, Eric scoffed and stumbled off, muttering something under his breath.

Beth exhaled, her voice quiet. “Thank you.”

I turned to her. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes shining, but didn’t say anything else. Just looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

And in that moment, maybe she was.