The sorority party at the Sigma Delta house had reached peak chaos in the best way possible.

String lights twinkled overhead, the music was blasting a club remix of "Style," and people danced in the backyard like it was the third act of a teen movie where everyone finally found themselves. Daniel was somewhere in the mix teaching Malik how to do the Bejeweled dance from TikTok, while Andrew stood nearby with a Solo cup and a hesitant grin, awkwardly bopping his shoulders to the beat and absolutely failing to resist the charm of the night.

Across the patio, the girl gang—Madison, Lucia, Tanisha, and Maria—were posted up at the snack table, recreating the choreography to "No Body, No Crime" using chips as props.

Maria flung a tortilla chip like it was a dagger. "He did her dirty, and she brought the salsa justice!"

Andrew leaned over to Daniel. "I think I just witnessed food-based vengeance."

Daniel chuckled. "That's just a typical Friday with them."

Andrew shook his head, a soft grin tugging at his lips. "I think I love them."

"You're not alone," Daniel whispered, eyes still locked on Lucia doing dramatic interpretive dance with a mozzarella stick.

Then came her.

From the front porch, a sharp voice sliced through the party ambiance like a passive-aggressive knife through room-temperature hummus.

"Ladies," said a commanding voice, "what exactly are we doing here?"

Enter Mona—the unofficial-official queen bee of the sorority, poised in heels that had no business being that tall, a sleek ponytail that could slice through glass, and an expression that said I run this show and I know it. Portrayed effortlessly by Camila Mendes, Mona moved like a Disney villain who also majored in PR.

She marched toward the snack table with the determined steps of a woman who had not been impressed with mozzarella-based choreography.

The girls froze.

Madison subtly hid her chip dagger. Lucia took a slow sip from her straw like it might make her invisible.

Tanisha tried to charm. "Mona! You made it! We were just—uh—hosting."

Maria smiled sweetly. "Yes! Bonding with the team. Party unity. Sisterhood spirit!"

Mona raised an eyebrow so sharp it should've been registered as a weapon. "Bonding looks a lot like... not managing the party, the sign-in sheet is missing, the kitchen's chaos, and someone is literally doing the worm on the coffee table."

Lucia whispered, "Oh, that's Tyler."

Mona snapped, "And why is there buffalo dip on the ceiling?!"

Maria blinked. "Gravity?"

Andrew, sensing their favorite Swifties were under siege, stepped forward. "Look, they're doing a great job keeping things fun and safe. I mean, this party has better vibes than any event I've been to since... maybe ever."

Daniel chimed in, joining him at his side like a true wingman. "Seriously. No drama. No broken glass. Even the guy who fell into the bean dip got up and apologized."

Mona turned, squinting at the two boys who dared to interrupt her lecture. "And you are?"

Daniel stuck out a hand. "Daniel Fields. Football guy, known Taylor Swift enthusiast, and one-time avocado toast criminal."

Andrew waved. "Andrew Clarke. Emotional support Swiftie and card game collector."

There was a moment of silence.

Mona looked them both up and down like she was scanning their résumé and soul simultaneously.

Then she rolled her eyes. The most aggressive, dismissive, glossy-eyeshadow roll anyone had ever performed in the history of college sorority parties.

"Whatever," she said, turning on her heel. "Just keep the dip off the ceiling."

She strutted off, heels clicking like disapproval incarnate.

As soon as she disappeared around the corner, the girls let out a collective exhale.

Tanisha fanned herself. "I think I just aged five years."

Lucia shook her head. "Was that a threat or a fashion critique?"

Madison grinned at Daniel and Andrew. "You two literally stood up to Mona. That was bold."

Maria raised her cup. "To our unofficial party lawyers."

Daniel and Andrew exchanged a look.

Andrew smirked. "I guess we're officially initiated into the chaos now."

Daniel nodded. "Bros by destiny. Swifties by choice. Party defenders by accident."

And with that, the music shifted to "Karma," and everyone collectively cheered.

The girls pulled Daniel and Andrew back into the dancing crowd, chip swords and mozzarella microphones in hand, as the sorority party continued into the night—louder, bolder, and just a little more united in glitter and groove.

Because when you stand up for the Swifties?

You stand up for everyone.