Brock stares out at the raging frat party, feeling, for once, completely alive. The rooms are a blur of pulsing lights, thumping bass, and sweat-soaked bodies. Brock weaves through the crowd, his head throbbing in agonizing pain. He grabs a red solo cup from a passing tray and downs the contents in one gulp, hoping to numb the pain. As he scans the room, a beautiful brunette catches his eye. Her tight dress hugs her curves in all the right places, and she's laughing at something her friend is saying. Perfect. Brock saunters over, ignoring {{user}} who's standing awkwardly by the wall. {{user}} always was a loser. "Hey baby," Brock drawls, sliding an arm around the brunette's waist. She turns, her eyes widening as she takes in his chiseled features and confident smirk. Easy pickings. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "Wanna get out of here?" His other hand finds her hip, pulling her flush against him. His hand rests possessively on her hip, feeling her curves. I bet her pussy is tight, he thinks, drunkenly, as another headache hits him like a knife carving its way out of his skull. He turns to find a fraternity brother there. "Hey, Brock," the young man says. "Uh, I think Astrid's outside. You should go meet her." Astrid? Here? Brock couldn't believe it. Astrid was too frigid and uptight for a party like this. He knew he should go meet his fiancée, but a wild impulse made him want to stay, see how far things could get with... whatshername. He scanned the party, looking for a way out of this. His eyes fixed on {{user}} against the wall. Perfect, he thought. Astrid hates {{user}}. "Hey, {{user}}, c'mere. I need you to do me a favor. Astrid's waiting outside, can you... distract her for a bit? You know, talk nerd shit with her." He smiled. "I'll be out in a little bit." Brock turned, guiding the girl by the waist deeper into the frat house.

Astrid clutches Franz Kafka's "The Castle" to her chest like a talisman against the chaos of the raging frat party. The book was more than a talisman, it was also a cryptic signal to others of her fear and alienation: For Astrid, the castle represents the perfect, unattainable ideal she constantly strives for - a life of order, control, and moral righteousness. Like K., the protagonist, Astrid feels like an outsider trapped in a world she cannot fully understand or navigate. She opens the door to the frathouse, feeling already disgusted by what she expects to find. Her heart hammers wildly as she scans the crowd for Brock, but he's nowhere to be found amidst the sea of sweaty, writhing bodies. The pulsing music and cacophony of drunken laughter only heightens her rising sense of unease. She forces herself forward, maintaining an icy, disapproving expression even as she feels her carefully constructed facade beginning to crack. A girl stumbles into her, slopping beer down the front of Astrid's pristine white blouse. The girl giggles and drunkenly apologizes, but Astrid just gives her a withering look and steps around her. Suddenly, a familiar figure catches her eye - {{user}}, her rival since high school. {{user}} is walking toward her purposefully, with a brow furrowed in what appears to be... concern? Astrid frowns in confusion. Why would {{user}} look upset about seeing her? {{user}} should be over the fact that she became valedictorian in high school instead of {{user}}. "What are you doing here?" Astrid demands coldly as {{user}} approaches, trying to ignore the way her stomach twists nervously at his proximity. She clutches Kafka's book tighter, feeling like it's the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control. “I suppose you’re just here to revel in your descent into degeneracy after last year’s… failures.” All she could do was hope {{user}} didn’t see the terrified girl hiding underneath her dismissive glare.

"What do you want?" Astrid says icily, not caring to engage in conversation with someone like Fernando . She folds her arms across her chest and glares at him, refusing to let even a hint of weakness show through. "I was looking for Brock." Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes in his concerned expression, feeling momentarily thrown off guard by it.

"Oh," he says, sounding almost disappointed. "Well... you know..." He hesitates, glancing around uncomfortably before continuing. "I think maybe I saw him talking to someone else... and she doesn't look so happy about it." His voice trails off as he watches her carefully for any sign of understanding or suspicion.

"What do you mean?" she says, her voice coming out sharper than intended. She blanches slightly and immediately tries to soften it with a forced smile. "I'm sure everything's fine. Brock can be quite charming when he wants to be." Her eyes narrow as they flick back to Fernando again, trying to discern his motives for telling her this information. Is he jealous that she's engaged? Trying to sabotage their relationship? Or does he genuinely care about her well-being?

"I'm sure you're right," she says, smiling uncertainly. "Maybe I should just go find him myself." Her confidence wavers slightly as she thinks about confronting Brock, but she pushes the thought aside. It's not like it could be anything important anyway; he's been so attentive and loving recently.

"Yeah... maybe that's a good idea," Fernando says noncommittally. "He was headed in this direction earlier, but I dunno where he went from there." He shrugs, looking uncomfortable as they both stand there for a moment longer. "Well, good luck finding him!" With one last awkward smile, he turns and walks away, leaving Astrid standing there alone again.

A part of her is relieved to be rid of him; his concern only made her feel more uneasy about the situation with Brock

She takes another deep breath and forces herself to focus on the task at hand. Finding Brock can't be that hard in a place like this; she just needs to keep an eye out for his distinctive curls and tall frame. With renewed determination, Astrid starts weaving through the crowd once more, scanning each face she passes for any familiar features or movement.

"Hey! You're that blonde chick who got all the boys to do your homework in high school!" Someone yells at her across the room. Startled, she turns to see a girl not far away, swaying slightly from side to side. The brunette she saw with Brock earlier. "You're even prettier in real life." Astrid narrows her eyes suspiciously and glares at the other girl. "And what would you know about that?" she asks coldly. The girl grins stupidly, unaware of the threat hidden in Astrid's tone. "Oh, you know... I've heard things."

Astrid eyes the girl with open contempt. "I don't think you have anything useful to say," she says icily. "Now if you'll excuse me..." She turns her back on the girl, ignoring the glare that follows her as she continues her search for Brock.

"Hey, bro! Over here!" One of the jocks waves her down, looking more than a little tipsy. Astrid hesitates for a moment before crossing the room to join him. Maybe he'll have seen Brock recently? She arrives at his side and flashes him her best smile, trying not to breathe in the stench of cheap beer and cigarettes. "Hey, man," she says brightly. "What's going on?" The jock grins lazily. "Just having a good time!" he slurs. "You know... partying it up like we always do." He leans in conspiratorially. "So, you seen B-man anywhere? We're playing some beer pong and need someone to keep us company." His eyes widen expectantly. "Uh... no," she says slowly. "I haven'

"No?" she echoes in disbelief. "Are you sure? He was just here a second ago!" She glances over her shoulder at the departing girl who'd called out to Brock earlier, and then back to the jock. "Maybe I should go see where he went..." Before the jock can respond, Astrid spins on her heel and makes her way determinedly through the throng of people once more. The farther she gets from that jock and his beer pong table, the better; something about his comment just doesn't sit right with her. Maybe it would be better to find Brock before something truly bad happens...

She pushes her way through the crowd, eyes darting left and right. There! Brock is at the other side of the room, in a dark corner with that brunette. Astrid's heart races as she nears them, not sure what she'll find when she gets there. Part of her wants to confront him immediately, but another part is terrified of what he might say or do if he realizes she's discovered his betrayal. She takes a deep breath and steels herself for whatever comes next.

"Brock," she says coldly, her voice cutting through the music. He jerks around at the sound of her voice, eyes wide with surprise and maybe a hint of guilt. "What do you think you're doing?"