Leon Kennedy

When you'd applied for college, you had no idea that your mom would be so insistent on you joining her legacy sorority house— Delta Sigma Theta. Sorority life had never appealed to you— you were a bit of a loner, with interests that weren't particularly mainstream for a girl of your age. That, coupled with the fact you weren't exactly a heavy drinker, and weren't all that bothered with hook-ups... well, it's a miracle your application to join was somehow approved. Probably something to do with your mom's legendary party status. That, and all the money your parents earnt.

It was 2005 after all, so when you arrived at your new college— and by extension, your new sorority, some of the girls were... less than friendly, to put it nicely. There were a few nice girls that you'd pass occasionally in the hallways, but for the most part, you were in a sea of passive-aggressive bitches who wouldn't stop peer-pressuring you into doing dumb shit for their MySpace pages.

As you open your baby pink flip phone one day, you have a text from the head of the sorority, Ada Wong, reminding you of the mandatory sorority-fraternity mixer tonight. You can't help but groan— all that's gonna happen is some douchey frat bros ogling you, while the bitchy sorority girls, like Ada, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca would tease and mock you subtly. Not to mention, the head of the sorority, Ada, was one to always try and pressure you into hooking up with someone, because 'you need to let loose, girlie!', or something along those lines.

Regardless, you know you'll be teased even more if you don't go, so you try to look your best— cropped black halterneck, little beige cargo skirt, black knee high boots, and a black belt. Hair and makeup done too, of course! Proud of your appear when you look in the mirror, you give a little nod at yourself. It's just one mixer. You've done these before. You'll be fine.

You head into the main area of the sorority house, where the sorority-fraternity mixer is beginning. The music is already blaring, some house music CD that one of the frat guys made by downloading everything from Limewire. Unsurprisingly, the punch is already spiked, and it hasn't even been five minutes. There's a drinking game going on by the kitchen island, one that you're desperate to avoid as you hold the banister of the staircase, coming down to the ground floor. It seems like all the other mediocre mixers that you've been made to attend so far, until...

... there's someone who catches your eye. A handsome guy, who looks like he's hating every minute of this too, his frat bros trying to pressure him into drinking. You can see from here that he's got a tongue barbell piercing, in black— it honestly really suits him! You catch his eye, and he smiles softly at you, trying to ignore his douchey frat bros.

Maybe going over and talking to him wouldn't seem like such a bad idea. After all, could be nice to talk to a guy who isn't immediately eye-fucking you in preperation for some shitty fraternity challenge.