Entanglement: An MM One Night Stand/Friends with Benefits University Romance

STAN Rave… His name flashes on my phone screen like a curse, each missed call a reminder of the mess I’ve tangled myself in. Three missed calls now, and I still can’t bring myself to answer. Each one feels like a tightening noose around my neck, a silent but pressing weight on my chest. I wish I could erase everything, go back to that night when I first lost my mind and said yes to the Campus King’s sultry invitation. If I could do it over, I’d tell him to f**k off. I’d tell him to leave me the hell alone, or I would have run as far away as possible. But hindsight is cruel like that. It makes you see all the red flags you tripped over with perfect clarity, when it’s already too late to do anything about them. My head feels like it’s going to explode—anger, regret, shame—they all swirl into a nauseating mix that I can’t shake off. If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have steered clear of Rave and his twisted circle of friends. I’ve known of Rave for nearly four years, but not in any real way. We don’t know each other like that. He and his group of friends strut around campus like they own it. Hell, maybe they do. At least one of them does, from what I’ve heard. There’s that nerdy guy, Met. He looks like he’s lost every time I see him, awkwardly tagging along behind the others like he doesn’t quite belong. Turns out, he’s the university director’s youngest son. So yeah, he literally owns the damn university while I’m here, barely scraping by, relying on a scholarship I work my ass off to maintain. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. We come from different worlds, and it shows in every awkward smile he flashes, every nervous laugh he offers when the others joke around. I wonder if he’s ever known what it’s like to worry about tomorrow, to wake up in a cold sweat because you’re afraid you might lose everything. Then there’s Bass, the campus jock—too loud, too buff, and way too arrogant. His reputation precedes him; he’s bedded half the student body, male and female alike, and doesn’t seem to have any plans to slow down. That irritating grin is always plastered on his face like he’s got a permanent reason to be happy. And maybe he does. When your dad’s a car company CEO raking in billions, what’s there to be unhappy about? He doesn’t have to worry about the future or the kind of legacy he’ll leave behind. Money and power insulate him from the mundane worries that plague the rest of us. Chai is the only girl in their exclusive circle. Gorgeous, humble, friendly—and definitely a lesbian. She dated the drummer in my band, so we’ve hung out a few times. Despite our obvious differences, Chai’s cool. She comes from old money, the daughter of some elite museum director, but she doesn’t flaunt it like the others. She’s the kind of person who could be your friend if you let her, but there’s always that unspoken boundary, that invisible line that reminds you she’s part of their world, not yours. And then there’s Rave. The ultimate playboy. No commitments, no repeats. He doesn’t care about gender, but he’s got a rule against dating freshmen. Too clingy, he says. Selfish prick. He’s the only son of a multi-industry CEO, living in a gilded mansion and driving foreign sports cars. They don’t make people like Rave, they mint them. He’s like a rare coin, polished and perfect, but cold to the touch. These people were born with golden spoons, they were crafted from platinum. They were born to stand out. But… But Rave is something else. With those sensual eyes, a perfectly sculpted face, and that infuriating smirk, it’s no wonder they call him the Campus King. He carries himself like he’s royalty, and maybe he is—born and bred in privilege. There’s an arrogance to him, a casual indifference that makes it clear he’s never had to work for anything in his life. It’s in the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks at you like he’s already figured you out and found you wanting. I’ve seen them around campus, in some of the same business classes, but I never really paid them much attention. I’m too busy trying to survive to waste time on spoiled brats who don’t even acknowledge anyone outside their circle. Their lunch money for a day could cover my food expenses for a week. I’d never fit into their world, and I don’t want to. So, imagine my surprise when, after a set at the bar where I work, Rave slides into the seat next to me with that damn smirk on his face. “Hi, Stan! You were absolutely smashing out there!” His voice is smooth, almost too smooth, and there’s a dangerous edge to it, like a blade hidden in velvet. His hand is holding a glass of what’s probably the most expensive scotch in the house, and he looks perfectly at ease, like he belongs here in this dingy little bar. “You know me?” I mutter, genuinely surprised. I’d seen him around, sure, but I never expected him to know who I was. “Of course! We’re classmates, aren’t we?” Rave acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Yeah, sure, like he really remembered me before tonight. Chai, sitting with her girlfriend and Bass a few seats away, gives me a small wave, confirming my suspicion. It was a setup from the start. “What do you want, Rave?” I’m too tired to play games, so I cut to the chase. My life is already complicated enough without adding him to the mix. “Are you always this blunt?” His tone stays flirty, his hand somehow finding its way to my thigh, tracing a slow, sensual line that makes my skin crawl and tingle all at once. “I just wanna be friends, you know?” “Friends, huh? Fine. But no sex.” I scoff, glancing pointedly at his hand. I’ve heard enough about his ‘friendships’ to know where this is heading, and I’m not interested in being another notch on his bedpost. “But some friends become good friends after s*x,” he retorts with that almost angelic grin. This guy is too smooth for his own good, and I hate how easily he’s getting under my skin. Those bedroom eyes and those sinfully tempting lips… I give in. Just this once. I need to decompress, and if his reputation holds true, Rave is just the kind of distraction I need. Tomorrow, we’ll go back to pretending we don’t know each other, right? Right? That’s my last logical thought before I lean in, meeting him halfway in a kiss that’s far too hot and passionate for a dark, crowded bar. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a storm, a whirlwind that pulls me in and won’t let go. I tell myself it’s just for tonight, just a way to blow off some steam, but deep down, I know it’s a lie. Because Rave isn’t the kind of storm you walk away from unscathed.