The sun hit different when you’d just lost your virginity.
Joren didn’t say that out loud, but the thought hovered as he and Dale walked across campus. The air felt warr. The people looked more interesting. Even the squirrels seed less judgntal.
Dale nudged him. "You good?"
Joren nodded. "Yeah. Just... weirdly calm."
"Bro, you’re post-nut enlightened. It’s a thing."
Joren laughed. "Is that in a textbook sowhere?"
"Probably in the sa one that says tequila cures heartbreak."
They reached the edge of campus, where the sidewalks gave way to a row of bars, cafés, and questionable food trucks. Dale pointed at a spot with neon signs and half a patio.
"Let’s hit that one. Cheap drinks, decent music, and the bartender owes a favor."
Joren hesitated. "You sure this isn’t too much?"
Dale stopped walking. "Listen. You spent the last few months overthinking every interaction, writing steps in a notebook like you were planning a heist. Today, you finally let go. That deserves a drink."
Joren nodded slowly. "Alright. One drink."
Dale grinned. "One drink and whatever chaos follows."
They stepped inside.
The bar was half full—just enough people to feel alive, not enough to feel crowded. Music pulsed low from the speakers, sothing bass-heavy and forgettable. Dale ordered two drinks without asking, sliding one across the table to Joren.
"Drink it before you start overthinking," he said.
Joren took a sip. It tasted like fruit and regret.
A few minutes passed. Dale was mid-story about a girl who ghosted him after he sent a , when soone slid onto the stool next to Joren like she’d been there the whole ti.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked, already sitting.
Joren turned. She had big curls, a silver nose ring, and a look that said she’d seen through him in five seconds flat.
"Uh... no," he said.
Dale sighed. "Oh boy."
She leaned on the edge, turning to Joren.
"You’re new," she said.
He blinked. "Uh... yeah. How’d you know?"
She smiled. "I can tell. You still look surprised when people talk to you."
Dale snorted into his drink.
Joren tried to recover. "I’m Joren."
"Lana," she said. "And I like your hoodie. It looks like it’s hiding sothing interesting."
Joren’s brain short-circuited. "Thanks. It’s... cotton."
Dale choked.
Lana tilted her head. "You’re cute. Nervous, but cute."
Joren cleared his throat. "I’m not nervous."
"You’re adorable when you lie," she said, then turned to Dale. "Is he always like this?"
"Only when girls flirt with him," Dale said.
"Which is rare. So this is historic."
Lana smiled at Joren again.
"Well, I like historic monts."
Lana stirred her drink with a straw, watching Joren like he was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve or break.
"So," she said, "what are we celebrating?"
Joren hesitated. Dale didn’t.
"He just had sex for the first ti,"
Dale said, raising his glass.
Joren nearly choked.
"Dude."
Lana blinked, then smiled slowly.
"Oh. That kind of celebration."
Joren rubbed his face.
"Ignore him. He’s not great with boundaries."
Lana leaned in slightly.
"I think it’s sweet. First tis are underrated."
Joren looked up. "You think so?"
She shrugged.
"Depends who it’s with. Was it good?"
Joren blinked.
"I—uh—yeah. I think so."
Lana grinned.
"Then you’re off to a good start."
Dale leaned back, clearly enjoying the show. "This is better than I hoped."
Joren gave him a look. "You planned this?"
"Not really," Dale said.
Lana sipped her drink, eyes still on Joren. "So what’s next? You gonna start a streak?"
Joren laughed under his breath.
"I’m just trying to survive the sester."
Lana tilted her head.
"Just surviving is boring. You should aim for sothing more fun."
Dale raised his glass.
"Like questionable decisions and stories you can’t tell your mom."
Joren smirked.
"That sounds more accurate."
Lana clinked her glass against his.
"Then you’re in the right place."
She swirled the ice in her glass, her eyes flicking between Joren and Dale like she was watching a tennis match she didn’t care to bet on.
"So," she said, "what do you guys actually do? Besides drinking fruity stuff and looking suspiciously clean for college students."
Dale grinned. "I study communications. Joren here is a romantic."
Joren raised an eyebrow. "I’m not a romantic."
"You wrote a list called ’Things Girls Like,’" Dale said.
"You’re basically a Hallmark intern."
Lana laughed. "Wait, that’s real?"
Joren groaned. "It was a phase."
"I want to see it," she said, leaning in.
"That’s adorable."
"It’s embarrassing."
"That’s why I want to see it."
Joren took another sip, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
"So what about you?" he asked.
"What do you do?"
"Psych major,"
she said.
"I can be either deeply self-aware or completely unhinged. Depending on the day."
Dale raised his glass. "I vote unhinged."
Lana winked. "You’re not wrong. Not entirely."
She turned back to Joren.
"You seem like soone who’s used to being an NPC."
Joren blinked.
"Is that supposed a complint?"
"It’s an observation," she said.
"But you can take it as a complint if you want to."
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. She didn’t press.
A mont passed. The music shifted—sothing slower, heavier. Lana stood up, stretched, then looked at Joren.
"Co outside with ,"
she said.
Joren hesitated. "Why?"
She smiled.
"Because I want to talk to you without your friend narrating everything."
Dale raised both hands. "Fair."
Joren glanced at his drink, then at Lana. She was already walking toward the door.
He followed.
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