"Whose idea was it?" Michael ground out, his teeth clenched, and his voice holding a thin layer of composure.

The pounding music, far from his taste, assaulted his ears as people moved around in a chaotic dance. Michael despised the frenetic movement. In the crowded club, he and Eric had to elbow their way to the counter to place an order, the overwhelmed waitresses leaving them no choice. Meanwhile, Mac and the impatient college girls awaited their return.

"It popped into our heads simultaneously when I mentioned my sister bringing her friends," Eric said, sliding an arm across Michael's shoulders. Despite the smile, the gesture felt strained. "And when I spotted a redhead among them, neither Mac nor I could pass up the chance to introduce our good V-word friend to a memorable night."

Michael shot a glare at his so-called Eurasian buddies. 'Damn it! He lost his virginity a year and a half ago, and now he struts around like a frat boy who thinks he's God's gift to women... which, let's be honest, he probably is.'

It wasn't Eric's newfound confidence with women that bothered Michael; it was the audacity of his friends making decisions for him, plunging him into a situation that sparked unexpected personal expectations.

Did he find MK attractive? Undoubtedly.

Did his interest transcend mere physical attraction upon learning her father was a die-hard fan of a famous wallcrawler superhero, resulting in her full name being "Mary Kate Williams"? Absolutely. It was close enough, especially considering his parents' names were freaking "Peter" and "Mary."

Did he want to lose his virginity? Without deceiving himself, a resounding YES.

Was it worth the impending awkwardness and the likelihood of returning home embarrassed and further alienated from the fairer sex? Michael shot a bitter side glance at Eric. 'One time, and he becomes Don Juan. That, and a disgusting late growth spurt.'

As they approached the group of five, Michael attempted to conceal the sudden focus on MK and sighed inwardly. 'Damn it! It won't be the first time I embarrass myself. The chances of meeting again are slim to none. Besides...' He redirected his attention to the String coursing leisurely through his upper body. 'I have That. Right now, It's just there, but when I fully develop It, what will I lack and can't obtain?' He embraced the idea, cultivating it as his wellspring of confidence.

"When are the drinks coming?" MK grabbed Michael's hand as he settled beside her. However, with thoughts of Eric and Mac infiltrating his mind, the illusory confidence he'd built rapidly deflated.

'For the love of God, speak!' Michael urged himself, cursing his friends for rendering him incapable of even uttering his signature "Sorry."

"Got a couple of minutes," Eric intervened, as if dousing Michael with water after throwing him into the fire made any difference.

MK released Michael's hand, and the temptation to grab his phone, feigning a crucial vibration demanding immediate attention, clawed at him. His hand slid into his pocket but halted. The idea reeked of desperation. 'It'd be pathetic, even if it's just my dirty secret.'

Negativity constructed a wall of assertiveness to replace his faltering confidence, a natural response when undesirable situations loomed. A defensive mask, a tool that often carved an escape route or, occasionally, unearthed unexpected favorable outcomes.

"We don't need drinks to dance! The music's perfect, come on!" Rey rallied her friends.

"Let's!" Rike chuckled. "You better not stand there like doofuses if you intend to follow," she taunted her brother, sticking her tongue out childishly.

"Someone needs to stay for when the drinks arrive," Eric nudged Michael under the table.

"It's fine. You guys can go." Regardless of his friends' scheming, Michael needed a bit of alcohol before venturing onto the dance floor.

"Anyone else so he won't sit here alone?"

In the crowded club, anyone could be a potential conversational companion. However, Eric's motive lingered on setting Michael up with MK, evident in the extended gaze he directed at her.

No one volunteered.

"We won't spread while dancing," Rey assured. "You or Mac can join us, and the other stays here with Michael."

"Perhaps we should wait for the drinks to arrive and then go together to the dance floor?" Mac pitched, supporting Eric's plan. "How long was it?"

"Should be less than ten minutes," Eric replied.

The girls, eager to start their fun, were impatient. Michael noticed MK's reluctance, mirrored by her friends. At that moment, he focused solely on her. He swallowed hard and steeled himself. "It's just ten minutes. We already paired up. MK, mind staying so when the drinks arrive, one of us will look after them, and the other can call the rest?"

Under pressure, MK relented. "Alright," she settled back down.

"We'll compensate you!" Rika, Rey, and Svet hugged her before dashing to the dance floor, with Eric and Mac in tow.

"Hmm?" Michael felt a genuine vibration in his pocket this time. He pulled out his phone to see two messages—one from Mac and one from Eric, each less than a line, visible on the notifications tab.

-Mac: Don't chicken out!

-Eric: Kiss her, and I'll give you the key to my place.

'Jerks,' Michael grimaced. The pressure induced a sheen of sweat on his back, and he knew if he didn't calm down, it would stain his shirt and stink.

"What?" MK inquired.

"N-No, it's nothing," he hastily straightened and stashed his phone away.

MK scrutinized him, resting her cheek on her hand. "Was it Mac or Eric?"

"What? No..." Nervousness set in, and the lie cracked his assertive facade. 'Why does it have to be like this?'

Emotions collided, and he wanted to surrender. After all, it wasn't his idea. 'Don't be a coward!' he snapped at himself—not because it was a chance, however slim, to lose his virginity, but because a flicker of a desire to change, alongside the power he'd bargained his soul for, compelled him.

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"Yes. It was both of them."

His emotional turmoil settled in a second, and he spent two more gathering himself, deciding to drop the mask after all, realizing MK was sharper than they gave her credit for. 'Or maybe we're too immature, and even a nineteen-year-old girl can see through us...'

He was willing to bet it was a combination.

"Poor execution," MK dismissively huffed.

Michael gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I agree, but it was more my fault than theirs."

"Yeah. I noticed you act differently, a tad jittery when you look at me, on the way here."

"Were you keeping an eye on me?" His first attempt.

"Nah. A blind man would've noticed," she rebutted.

"If you're playing hard to get, you're doing great," Michael quipped, resorting to humor, although he wanted more than just that. "Give me your hand."

His old self would have stuttered through asking, hesitating to make a move on a woman. The request emerged more like a command, and for a moment, he considered rephrasing it. Pushing aside the impulse to retreat, he decided to roll with it – made easier by MK's lack of hesitation. She complied with a smooth motion.

'You're sober, and the music ain't half bad. You can do it!' Michael encouraged himself as he pulled MK up. "You want to dance, right?"

Not everyone on the dance floor was confined to its limits; the surrounding area teemed with people, seats, and tables. Michael and MK had a shared space of a few feet to move. He was up for the challenge if she was. Luckily, she was, and enthusiastically so.

'She's smiling!' It felt like a small victory. Despite growing happiness, he kept it in check.

Michael's legs and arms felt either like jelly or stiff. He both wished for and dreaded the arrival of the drinks. Thankfully, MK made him the axis of their small circle.

'God, I'm not sure I can keep up with her energy. Regardless of what happens tonight, starting tomorrow—Sunday, I'll start physical training. This reminds me, I need to test the String's effect on my body when I exert it.'

"Tell me if you need to catch your breath. I can totally keep going all night," he threw in another joke, one he considered appropriate and was in the mood to make.

"Ten minutes should be up, no?" MK halted, her flushed face and hands on his shoulders.

"Let's go check if our order's ready," Michael suggested, more interested in the brief break than the drinks.

"Sorry, man, it's Thursday night, and we are short one bartender and two waitresses. All three called in sick, go figure..." The bartender, showcasing his skills amidst the chaos, explained the delay. "You guys are from table thirty-one, right? If you don't mind waiting here, I'll get you your table's order to take. Alright?"

"Okay!" MK leaned over the counter, shouting.

The bartender smiled, nodded, and continued his mixology magic, joined by the other bartender and the shift manager, displaying a synchronized performance.

"Look at the tip jar!" MK yelled, redirecting Michael's chin. The bar's music drowned out the sound of their table. She leaned close to his ear. "It's one thing to get in before twenty-one; another is to get hired," her tone held a tinge of despondency.

Michael was about to mention other job opportunities for students when he noticed the giant jar brimming with attractive bills. 'Yeah, well, what's my excuse...' It was a rhetorical question that, a week ago, would've briefly plunged him into frustration and self-anger. 'Now I have you, bud.' His mood that night exceeded expectations, especially when he felt the String in his chest, wiggling in affirmation.

"Speak!" MK tugged on his shoulder. "It's written all over your face that you have something on your mind!"

Michael shook his head. "Just thinking the night's not so awful."

"Were you expecting it to suck after seeing us?" Her teasing tone heightened his focus on her.

It was a bait that he had yet to gather the proper confidence to take, but he was getting there.

"Strike two!" MK raised two fingers.

"What?!" Michael was confused.

She got upset. "I get it, you're a late bloomer who doesn't open up to new people fast. Slower with women, right? Come on! You're not half bad to look at-"

"Should I say 'thank you'?" Michael interjected.

"You should shut up and listen… passable to look at, good conversationalist when you finally choose to speak, not spewing nonsense. Thank god not acting like a douche when you try. I'm guessing your friends will exploit every opportunity to keep us alone from the group. Meaning, we both have to make do with each other for fun or go home."

It was evident MK had more to say. She turned away without another word. They were missing two cocktails to take back to their table.

Direct, blunt, and so blatantly straightforward that Michael wanted to kick himself for annoying her instead of making a move he didn't even have to swing to miss.

'That's why Mac and Eric laugh at you, damn it! A beautiful woman offered herself to you in every way but saying "take me," yet you're so calculative and cautious you'd rather lose the final move with excuses than make it!'

The night's upside was spiraling back down. Michael couldn't let it happen. His old self could, but the old him didn't have anything going for him – no game-changer that warranted the dawn of a better version of himself.

'Worst you'd get is a slap, being called a creep, and mocked by a bunch of strangers... who cares? Just do it! What you want! Desire!'

Michael assertively grabbed MK's arm, feeling the softness beneath his fingers, a stark contrast to a man's. His sudden action startled her, and she turned back, not pulling away. Whether the surprise was pleasant, intriguing, or exactly what he wanted, his mind couldn't register from her expression. Operating on autopilot, he pulled her toward him and leaned in. The flashing lights made it seem like it all happened in a split second—the time he, for the first time in his life, locked a passionate gaze with a woman to where their lips touched.

The kiss started and ended in less than five seconds before MK pushed to separate. The bartender had everything ready on a tray, which MK lifted and carried back. "New Michael" briefly reverted to "Old Michael" or just melded together. It was too early to tell.

The kiss was something—both what he thought kissing a woman you actually wanted to kiss would be and less mind-blowing or complicated. It felt nice, a sensation completely different from mere hand or arm touching, pleasurable, something that could go on for hours in the right mood. The touch of the tongue at the end was initiated by her, right before it ended. Not much to fully absorb. The fact he had an urge for more was at least a sign it was not bad. The knocking on the teeth in the first and fourth seconds was his bad. Could it be why she stopped?

'I kissed a girl, and I liked it!' A weight lifted from Michael's shoulders as his knees weakened, his elbows on the counter keeping him up. It didn't matter why MK kissed him. It didn't end in a slap, name-calling, or mockery. It was a win and an accomplishment he couldn't predict at the beginning of the evening.

'Wait…' Strength returned to his legs, and he raised himself, chasing steps behind MK. 'Those assholes want me to have sex with MK. If I just tell them I kissed her, they'll ridicule me forever. On the other hand, having sex for their satisfaction doesn't exactly rouse my libido, unless MK would be as blunt as before…' Somewhat, he was under the impression it was more likely she would hit him with something blunt than initiate something more than the kiss tonight.

"Hey!" Up ahead, MK passed by a group of seven, and a man more than a head taller attempted to snatch the tray.

"Relax, hon," the man released the tray and stood, blocking MK's path, smiling. "I can tell from your scent you're not of drinking age. How about you join us with the drinks, and I won't tell," he stepped forward, attempting to lead MK with a tattooed arm.

MK stepped back. Michael caught her from behind and circled in front of her.

"Boyfriend?" The man stared down at Michael. "Nah…" He smirked. "That fiery head caught my eyes when you left your table."

"Mason, leave the poor boy alone," said another man from the group, but there was no goodwill in his voice, nor his smile or the smiles of two more in the group.

"You hear that? My friends are worried for you, shortie. Don't try to be brave and get lost. Besides," his gaze shifted to MK, a lecherous smile resurfacing. "You didn't say no. A bit of apprehension is fine. I promise to be gentle."

Without a care for Michael still standing in place, Mason shoved him aside, moving for MK.

Michael grabbed Mason's forearm.

"Da' fuck you touching!" Fire lit in his blue eyes, and hot temper blew from his breath, or maybe it was whatever he drank before.

Michael's heart pounded like crazy. The absurd altercation was another first in his adult life. Not that as an adolescent, he got into many fights. Either way, he never really feared the pain of getting beaten. For his principles or stubbornness, he could take it. His two lone preferences were avoiding serious injury and legal problems.

"There are cameras. Touch her, and you'd get reported for sexual assault. Hit me, and I'll sue you for physical assault… and sexual," Michael let go with a grin.

It wasn't like him, aggravating the situation. Perhaps it was the kiss, his desire for more from MK, String-related, or just his time of the month. Whatever it may be, Mason's fist was remarkably swift and accurately met his face.