The bass thumped against Ari Jensen's chest, a jarring rhythm that did nothing to soothe her nerves. She clutched the plastic cup in her hand, the condensation cold against her clammy palm. The air was thick with the smell of cheap alcohol, sweat, and something vaguely floral. Bodies swayed and pressed together, a chaotic sea she felt utterly lost within. This had been a mistake. Every instinct screamed at her to leave, to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of her dorm room and her books. But she had forced herself to come, a desperate attempt to prove, to herself more than anyone, that she wasn't a complete recluse.
A group of laughing students jostled past her, and Ari Jensen stumbled, nearly spilling her drink. She mumbled an apology, her gaze fixed on the sticky floor. Her cheeks burned with a familiar shame. She could feel eyes on her, she always could, and the thought made her want to disappear. Her large breasts felt like spotlights, drawing unwanted attention. She adjusted her oversized hoodie, trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable, but it was futile.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise, closer than she expected, and Ari Jensen flinched. She didn't dare look up, convinced it was another taunt, another cruel joke at her expense. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the party's relentless rhythm.