The moment Stan stepped into the venue, he was hit by a wall of loud, pulsing music that seemed to vibrate straight through his chest.
The space had been transformed into a full-blown celebration zone, colorful lights swept across the walls, tables overflowed with food and drinks, and students filled every corner, laughing, dancing, and basking in the glow of Peak University’s upset victory.
The bass carried real weight.
The kind of bass that traveled up through the floor and settled somewhere behind your sternum.
Stan couldn’t help nodding along to the beat as he walked inside, the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins.
Across the room, Zack spotted him first.
"Stan’s here!"
A cluster of basketball players occupied a high table in the corner, drinks already in hand and post-game excitement still written across their faces. Marcus saw him and immediately threw both arms into the air.
"MVP! MVP!"
The chant caught instantly.
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
It spread from the table to the surrounding groups, and by the time Stan reached them, half the front section of the hall was cheering, whistling, or recording him on their phones.
He laughed and worked his way around the table, exchanging handshakes and shoulder bumps with each teammate, the practiced but genuine greetings of athletes who had just shared a huge win together.
Before he could sit down, Marcus shoved a glass into his hand.
Dark amber liquid.
Whiskey.
"Drink," Marcus declared. "Drink. You earned it three times over tonight."
Stan glanced at the glass. ’Well... one or two shots won’t hurt. Besides, my alcohol resistance is ridiculously high.’
One or two shots weren’t likely to accomplish much.
He took a sip. Then another. The whiskey was excellent. Dangerously excellent.
Smooth enough that he immediately understood why Marcus had looked so pleased with himself.
Stan lowered the glass. ’Okay. That was genuinely good whiskey.’
He opened his mouth to ask Marcus whether the cheer squad had arrived yet.
But then, his phone vibrated. Twice, almost simultaneously.
Stan frowned and pulled it from his pocket.
Two notifications sat at the top of the screen.
Both Snapchat. Both sent within the same minute. The first was from Maya.
Maya: [Stan, my love. Me and Sophie, who do you love most? Be honest.]
Stan blinked. Then opened the second.
Sophie: [My love, please tell me. Me and Maya, if you had to choose, who would you love more?]
For a moment, his brain simply stopped functioning.
Then he coughed. Once, sharp and unexpected.
Then again. The second cough was significantly worse.
Marcus immediately smacked him between the shoulder blades.
"Bro, you good?"
"Stan?" Zack suddenly appeared beside him. "You alright?"
The rest of the table had turned toward him as well. The concern was immediate and genuine.
After all, their newly crowned MVP appeared to be losing a fight against a glass of whiskey.
Stan held up one hand. "It’s fine."
Another cough escaped him. "It’s nothing."
Marcus looked unconvinced. Zack looked even less convinced. Stan cleared his throat and took a much more careful sip of whiskey.
"Wrong pipe."
"You sure?" Zack’s eyes narrowed slightly.
There was a texture to the question. The cough had not sounded like a wrong-pipe cough.
It had sounded suspiciously like a man receiving devastating information.
"I’m sure."
Zack studied him for another second. Then shrugged.
"If you say so."
At that exact moment, Zoey walked from somewhere within the crowd. She slipped an arm around Zack’s shoulders and leaned up to whisper something into his ear.
Whatever she said immediately made him laugh.
Just like that, Zack’s attention vanished.
Stan released a slow breath. Sighing, He unlocked his phone again and stared at the messages.
Then stared some more. The fact that they had arrived within the same minute felt deeply suspicious. Almost coordinated, possibly illegal.
’What in the actual hell is going on?’
He took another sip of whiskey, then began typing.
To Maya: [Well, what can I say? It’s hard to choose.]
Send.
To Sophie: [Well, what can I say? It’s hard to choose.]
Send.
Stan looked at the two conversations. Then looked up at the crowded dining hall.
Stan slipped the phone back into his pocket.
The problem with giving identical answers, he reflected, was that they usually only delayed the explosion.
Unfortunately for him, that realization arrived about three seconds too late.
Meanwhile, Both replies came back within seconds. Not minutes. Not even enough time to suggest they had paused to think. But seconds.
They had been typing almost the instant he hit send.
Maya: [Then rock and dance with Sophie at the party tonight ]
Stan blinked. He stared at the message for a moment before immediately switching to Sophie’s chat.
Stan: [What are you two up to?]
The reply arrived almost instantly.
Sophie: [What did Maya tell you?]
’Whats going on?!’ Stan’s eyes narrowed.
Stan: [That I should rock and dance with you.]
Three little dots appeared, disappeared then appeared again.
Then,
Sophie: [Good 🙂↕️]
Stan stared. He knew with that with their favourability being high, they were definitely his and his alone, but, he was dying of curiosity trying to think what their plan was
Stan: [What games are you two playing?]
Sophie: [Don’t worry, Stan. Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ve got a surprise for you tonight.]
A surprise. That somehow did not make him feel better.
He switched back to Maya’s chat.
Stan: [What are you two up to?]
Maya: [Don’t worry. It’s a surprise]
Stan looked at both conversations side by side. Then looked at them again.
His thumb hovered motionless above the screen while his face performed the tiny, controlled adjustments of a man desperately trying not to react in public.
Sophie and Maya were cooperating. Not tolerating each other, Not temporarily ignoring each other. But cooperating, actively, and deliberately.
Coordinating Snapchat messages down to the minute. That should not have been possible.
Unlike this, Sophie’s possessiveness, by Stan’s estimation, was normal. Maya’s competitive instinct toward Sophie was equally normal.
The two of them had spent most of the day operating like rival political parties campaigning for the same undecided voter.
They had ridden in the same car. They had smiled at him from opposite sides of the same space. They had flirted at him in alternating turns.
And they had avoided speaking directly to each other whenever possible.
Yet somehow, Now they were coordinating Snapchat messages.
Stan’s mind immediately began searching for explanations.
’What could have made them cooperate like this...’ He can understand their point of view but it still doesn’t make sense...
His thoughts abruptly hit a wall. ’No. That’s not the important question. The important question is why are they suddenly acting like co-conspirators?’