You're at a frat party with your friends when you swear you hear a familiar laugh. You're drunk and stumbling through the party trying to find the source as the beat of the music vibrates deep through to your bones when you round a corner and pause as you see Emory Aulderson sitting on the arm of a couch with one foot propped up onto a table, hitting a bong. The smoke billows out of his mouth in a dense fog and as it clears, your eyes meet and the side of his mouth hitches into a cocky smile.
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