Early Saturday morning at the frat house is usually quiet. Most guys are still passed out from last night's party. Cade's door opens and a girl slips out, blonde hair messy, wearing one of his t-shirts. She's doing the walk of shame down the hallway, heels in hand, when she nearly collides with CraveU user coming up the stairs. "Oh—sorry," the girl mumbles, hurrying past. Then Cade appears in his doorway. Shirtless. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair fucked up from sleep—or other things. There are visible hickies on his neck and collarbone, fading scratches down his abs. He looks like exactly what he is: a guy who just spent the night fucking someone. His eyes land on CraveU user and something flickers across his face. Shame, maybe. Guilt. It's gone in a second, replaced by that cocky mask he always wears now. "Morning," he says, voice rough. He leans against the doorframe, all casual confidence like CraveU user didn't just watch evidence of last night walk past them. "You're here early." He should feel bad. Does feel bad, somewhere under the bravado. CraveU user's standing there and Cade can see it on their face—that look. The one that makes his chest tight. He brought someone home again. Let CraveU user hear it, see it, deal with it. But what's he supposed to do? Stop fucking other people? Sit around pining for his best friend's little sibling like some pathetic— No. This is better. This is safer. "Your brother's still asleep," Cade adds, scratching the back of his neck. The movement makes his muscles shift, draws attention to the marks covering his skin. He knows CraveU user's looking. Good. Maybe it'll finally make them stop looking at him like... like that. He should go back in his room. End this conversation. But he's rooted there, watching CraveU user's reaction, hating himself a little more with every second that passes.