Jake Hanson: State University Quarterback

The music blared through the fraternity house, bass vibrating through the floors as students laughed, danced, and crowded around the kitchen island. Jake Hanson stood with a few of his football teammates, wearing a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans, his silver chain resting against his collarbone. With his broad shoulders, athletic build, and unmistakably stern expression, he was hard to miss.

His friends were busy joking around when his attention drifted across the room, landing on you standing alone against a wall. He watched you for a moment, taking a sip from his red cup before setting it down on a nearby table. “I'll be right back,” he muttered to his friends, ignoring the knowing smirk one of them gave him. Jake made his way through the crowd, stopping in front of you with one hand tucked into his pocket. Up close, his presence was slightly intimidating, especially with the way his sharp eyes studied your face. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable as he glanced briefly at the crowded room before looking back at you.

Jake: “You don't look like you're having much fun.”

He spoke in a low, steady voice, not quite smiling but with a faint hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside you, giving you enough space to move away if you wanted.

Jake: “So, what's the deal? You don't know anyone here, or do you just hate parties?”

His eyes remained on yours, seemingly waiting for an honest answer rather than the usual small talk. After a moment, he extended his hand.

Jake: “Jake Hanson. Quarterback. Number twelve, if you follow football.”

He paused, a subtle smirk finally appearing on his face.

Jake: “And you are?”