You tap your thumbs against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. Some happy tune plays over your car speakers, and you nod to the beat. The sun is out for the first time in a while, the overcast of autumn having become the new normal. You're on your way to pick up your best friend, Mark, from his work as a host at a restaurant near your university. You're going to go out for dinner and then come back to your room for drinks, and maybe a movie. You've finished all your homework, and you just got an essay back--96 percent. 

So, it's a good day. You turn into the parking lot and see a spot really close to the door--perfect, now Mark won't even have to call you while staring directly at your windshield a few rows away, asking where you were parked. As you pull in, another car squeals into the lot. Surprisingly, the driver blows past the many spots closer to the entrance and jerks to a stop a few yards from your bumper.

"Hey!" You see it's a guy now, around your age. He pokes his head out of his window. He's got tanned skin, big ears, and big, bright eyes. "Do you work here? This is the employee lot."

"No, but--"

"Then can you park somewhere else? My shift starts soon and it ends really late, so I don't want to have to walk really far to my car in the dark after I clock out."

Even though his request is pretty reasonable, it kind of pisses you off. In fairness, you got here first. In the time he took to ask you about this, he could've parked, clocked in, and then waited until his break or something to come move his car.

"I'm here to pick up my friend. He says he just clocked out. He'll only be a minute, and then we'll be out of your way." You put your car in park and open the door so you don't have to crane your neck around to talk. "Or you could, you know, just park somewhere else and move it later."

"Okay, but also that's, like, my parking space." 

You glance around quickly, but there aren't any signs up, and you definitely don't remember seeing anything painted onto the spot itself. Besides, why would a kid your age have his own parking spot? He’s probably one of those guys that likes to go on power trips and boss people around. "Uh, the hell it is, there's nothing here that says that. No sign or anything." You gesture to the bare curb in front of your car.

"Okay, but you know how in class, sometimes you'll have like an unofficial-official assigned seat?" He gives you a pleading look, his eyes becoming puppy-dog-like. "It's like that. I always park there. C'mon, dude, I just need to go clock in."

"I'm already parked here though." Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mark emerge from the employee entrance. "And, wow, my friend’s here now, so today's your lucky day. Mark, get in the car." You turn back around, slamming your door shut and starting the engine, rolling down your window and throwing your car into reverse. "There, have your stupid parking spot, asshat," you call out the window to the boy as you pull away.

Mark is laughing as you huff in annoyance, rolling your windows back up. "You know Lucas?" he asks, clicking his seatbelt in. 

"Who's Lucas?"

"Uh, the guy you were in a shouting match with in the parking lot, like, thirty seconds ago?"

Keeping your eyes on the road as you turn out of the parking lot and onto the main street, you say, "Oh, you mean his name isn't Jackass?"

"Sick burn," Mark says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "No, man, Lucas is really cool. He’s a waiter here. He just comes off as aggressive sometimes 'cuz he's loud. Plus, he was probably pretty worried about running late."

"Yeah, well," you say, settling back into your seat. "He had so many other options that weren't yelling at me, a stranger, for doing nothing wrong." You brush a stray hair out of your face, and turn to Mark. "Anyway, what do you want to do for dinner?"

__________________

__________________

It's a few days later, and you and Mark are getting ready for a party. "C'mon, y/n, finish your drink!" Mark says, struggling into his shoes. "Johnny says he's there, and it's already pretty full. I don't want to have to wait outside if they reach capacity."

"Give me a second!" You finish swiping lip gloss onto your bottom lip, and turn away from the mirror to chug the rest of your Mike's. "How do I look?"

"Great, now come on ," Mark says quickly, placing your shoes in front of you. "Let's go."

You let him drag you out of your room and down the hall to the stairs. "Careful!" you call as he thunders down the stairs, laughing, tripping over his own feet and almost falling. "You're drunk, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Mark just gives a shout of laughter in response. "Hurry up!"

You stumble to the bottom of the stairs and follow him out the door of your dorm and over to the street lined with frat houses. Johnny's leaning out a window on the second story of one of the houses.

" There you are!" he shouts, waving. You can hear the bass from across the street. "Hey, Jae, let ‘em in!"

A boy you don't know grins and waves, and steps aside to let you and Mark past. The deafening sound of music and the overwhelming smell of alcohol hits you in an almost staggering wave. Johnny is hopping down the stairs to your left. "Hey, guys. Drinks upstairs. How are you?"

"Good," Mark says as you follow him up, everyone jostling everyone on the way. It's crowded and you're glad for Johnny's height because it makes him easy to follow in a crowd. "This is crazy!"

"Almost everyone had an exam this week," Johnny says, shrugging. "So we're self-medicating. Terribly unhealthy." He flashes you both a grin, and produces two cups of jungle juice. "Here."

"Thanks," you say, taking one. "What is it?"

"Every kind of fruit juice we could find and a lot of different kinds of vodka, I dunno," he replied. "Hey, I gotta go, have fun!" And just like that, he's lost in the throng of people.

Mark raises his eyebrows, takes a cautious drink, and then shrugs. "Well, I'm gonna go play pong. You want in?"

"No, thanks," you say, laughing. "I'd be more likely to land the ball in someone's eye socket than in one of those cups, sober. And," you add, grabbing Mark's shoulder to stabilize yourself when someone bumps into you. "I'm not sober."

"Alright. See you in a few." And then he's gone too, leaving you alone in a room full of strangers.

You don't really mind, though. You see a sign that says "ROOF - up two floors", so you head for the stairs, careful not to spill your drink on yourself or passersby. It's nice out, if a little chilly, and there are fewer people up here. You finish your drink, chatting with a couple of students you recognize from one of your classes, and then decide to head back in for a second helping.

You've just gotten the newly-full cup back from one of the frat guys tending their makeshift bar, and are about to head up the stairs when someone rams into you from the side.

Your drink goes everywhere, including all down your front. "!"

"!" the guy who bumped into you says at the same time. "I'm so sorry, here, let me--" He-takes the now-empty cup from your hands and presses some napkins to your stomach, where the sweet drink is quickly soaking through your top. His fingers are adorned with pretty silver rings, and his hands look... nice. You raise your head, and come eye to eye with--

"Lucas?" You immediately step back; the napkins fall to the floor. "Seriously, you?"

"O-oh, Scary Parking Lot Girl!" He looks back at you, wide-eyed.

"Oh my god." You assess the damage--the cup was nearly full, so your entire torso is soaked, and you feel gross and sticky. A wind blows in through a nearby open window, and you shiver. "Couldn't you have looked where you were going?" you accuse.

"I'm sorry, really , I am," Lucas says. "To be fair, you weren't looking, either."

It's absolutely not what you need right now. "Hey, this isn't on me!" He grabs a couple more napkins, nodding, and takes a step toward you, but you hold out your hand to stop him. “I don’t want your ing help.” You brush past him, down the hall to the bathroom, trying to fix the damage. It's no use, though, and you sigh in defeat, meeting your own eyes in the mirror.

"Hey." A girl comes out of one of the stalls. "You okay?"

You give her a weak smile. "Yeah, just... bumped into a jerk and spilled my drink. That's all."

She pouts. "I'm sorry. My boyfriend lives here, I can get him to lend you a shirt if you'd like."

"That's so sweet of you," you say, laughing. "But no, it's okay. I live not too far from here. I can go home and change."

"All right," she says. "Don't be sad. You're sooo pretty." She twirls a strand of your hair around her finger and then lets you go, giving you a kind, if a little unsteady, smile.

You smile back and shake your head, thanking her and heading out into the hall. Angelic drunk girls you meet in bathrooms are, like, the only thing that keeps the world turning, you think to yourself as you head back down the stairs. 

"Hey, Mark." You spot him on your way to the door.

"Hey--Jesus, what happened to you?"

You give him a wry smile. "Lucas, of all people, ran into me and made me spill my drink. I'm gonna head back to change."

"Damn, you guys just keep ruining each other's lives, huh?" 

You don't appreciate the look Mark is giving you, so you ignore it. "Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway, I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah, okay!"

Stupid Lucas, you think, hugging yourself as you step out into the cold. Stupid Lucas, and his stupid puppy eyes, and stupid rings...

__________________

__________________

You're running late to picking Mark up from work today. "Please let today be Lucas's day off," you pray to no one in particular as you gun it through a yellow light. 

You pull into the parking lot and up to the spot you two had fought over the week before. Lucas's car is already there, and upon closer inspection you see a little sign wedged into the grass just beyond the curb. You squint.

RESERVED FOR LUCAS WONG ONLY

YOU WILL BE TOWED, AND

IF YOU'RE MARK LEE'S MEAN FRIEND,

YOU'RE GETTING FINED, TOO.

QUERIES: 555-555-5555

You can't help it; you throw your head back and laugh, openmouthed. "That piece of !" You don't notice Mark walking up to your car. He turns to look at what you're laughing at, and, cackling too, runs back inside. 

A few moments pass, and he comes dashing back out, still laughing, and hops in the passenger seat.

"Where did you go?" you ask warily, backing out of the lot. 

Mark is giggling , and your suspicion mounts. "I told Lucas he's gonna have to do better than that if he wants your number."

You slam on the brakes, almost launching Mark out of his seat. " What? " You start fishing through your backseat. "Did he kill you for it?"

"No," Mark says blithely. "Just whipped me with his dishtowel."

"Oh, good," you reply, producing a copy of a book on Greek mythology from the back, and thwack Mark on the head with it. "I don't ing want his number, and he's sure as hell not getting mine." You give him another sound smack for good measure.

"Yeah, okay." Mark fends off your attacks. "Drive us home first, you can beat me up over dinner."

"I'll hold you to that." You release the brake and hope Mark doesn't notice how badly your ears are burning.

But judging by his continued laughter, he does.

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(A/N): hi! I'm xiami and im writing again! I'll be uploading all my older works shortly. currently im mostly just writing for superm, nct, and exo, but hit me with any requests and I'll do my best. you can find me on tumblr here, and my buy me a coffee is here. during the month of june, any donations will go towards bail funds or other organizations supporting black communities. to my black readers, i stand with you, and I hope you're staying safe and taking care as best you can. if anyone would like resources for how they can help or how they can educate themselves, please feel free to drop me a comment or a dm, or ask me on tumblr (anon is always on!)