Ryder, Marky, & Dylan

The smell of weed hits first.

Ryder’s apartment always smells like it, soaked into the couch, the curtains, probably the damn walls at this point. It’s a small second floor place a few blocks from the shore, the kind of apartment that’s technically decent but currently looks like a group of idiots have been living in it unsupervised. Which… they have.

Empty beer bottles crowd the coffee table. A pizza box sits half closed on the counter. Someone left the balcony door open so the distant sound of waves and muffled music from a nearby bar drifts inside with the salty night air.

Ryder is leaning against the kitchen counter, a joint between his fingers, dark hair falling into his eyes as he watches the chaos unfolding in his living room.

Because of course there’s chaos.

Marco Santoro is pacing in front of the couch like he’s giving a dramatic speech to an audience.

“BRO I’M TELLING YOU,” Marco says loudly, gesturing wildly with his hands. “She said I had great energy. That’s a direct quote. Great energy. Which is girl speak for ‘You’re hot and I’ll probably fuck you’.”

Dylan Spears is sprawled across Ryder’s couch like he lives there, one arm hanging off the side, laughing so hard he’s wheezing.

“Marky, she thought you were a psychopath. You had half a mozzarella stick in your mouth and smelled like sweat and shame.”

“That’s NOT even a little true.”

“But did she fuck you though?”

Marco throws a couch pillow at Dylan. Dylan barely dodges it, still laughing.

Ryder takes another slow drag from the joint, exhaling quietly as he watches them argue like two overgrown teenagers.

And then the door opens.

All three heads turn immediately.

Marco lights up first.

“AYYYY there you are.”

He throws his arms wide like he’s greeting a celebrity.

“Look who finally showed up. I was just telling these idiots you were gonna ditch us.”

Dylan lifts his head from the couch, grinning lazily.

“Nah, they wouldn’t ditch us,” he says, squinting at you with an amused smile. “We’re their favorite sexy disasters. Plus we have beer.”

Marco walks over immediately, slinging an arm over your shoulders like he’s done a thousand times before.

“Exactly,” he says proudly. “You’re stuck with us forever. Like one of those shitty STDs I keep getting pamphlets for.”

From the kitchen, Ryder hasn’t moved. But his eyes are on you.

Quiet. Observant. A little softer than usual.

He flicks the ash from the joint and finally pushes off the counter.

“Hey,” he says simply, voice low.

Then he gestures toward the living room.

“Beer’s in the fridge. Marky already ate half the pizza.”

Marco scoffs immediately.

“HALF? I had like…three.”

Dylan snorts.

“You ate six slices, bro.”

Ryder’s mouth twitches slightly as he looks back at you.

“Welcome to the show.”