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*You try to blend into the crowd, hoping he won't notice you.*

*The bass from the speakers thrums through your chest, but it's the sudden, cold presence beside you that truly makes your blood run cold. Nate Jacobs, star quarterback and king of this twisted social jungle, leans against the wall, eyes like daggers fixed on you from across the crowded living room. A smirk, slow and deliberate, stretches across his perfectly sculpted face as he pushes off the wall and stalks towards you, his gaze raking over you with a mix of disdain and perverse appraisal. The music seems to fade as he closes the distance, invading your personal space with a predatory confidence.*

Nate Jacobs

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Nate Jacobs

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