The party at Sigma Delta was pure euphoric chaos.

The backyard had turned into a Taylor Swift-themed fever dream—string lights glimmering like stardust, makeshift disco balls spinning over heads, and a crowd of college students belting Cruel Summer with the kind of dramatic passion usually reserved for Broadway finales or breakup scenes in YA novels.

Andrew and Daniel were deep in the middle of it—Andrew doing that awkwardly adorable two-step-clap move (that somehow worked when he did it), and Daniel spinning in circles with Madison, Lucia, and Tanisha like a human glitter tornado.

Mike and Malik from the football team had long since abandoned any facade of masculinity and were now scream-singing You Belong With Me in harmonized falsetto while Lucia air-guitared with a red Solo cup.

"I swear," Daniel shouted over the music, "this is the best cardio I've done since preseason."

Andrew, breathless from laughing, nodded. "I feel like I just emotionally sprinted through every track on 1989."

Then the music stopped.

Abruptly.

A screech of feedback from the speakers startled the whole crowd like they'd been caught illegally hosting joy.

And there she was again.

Mona.

Sleek ponytail. Stiletto boots. Clipboard in one hand like a weapon. And the cold, calculating energy of someone who definitely tried to trademark her own name.

She stormed toward the DJ booth and shouted into the mic, "Let's give this party a little edge, shall we?"

The crowd murmured. Daniel narrowed his eyes. Andrew looked concerned. Mike slowly lowered his air guitar.

The DJ, clearly terrified and probably just trying to not get blacklisted from every campus gig ever, complied.

And then…

It happened.

The unthinkable.

The speakers blared:

"LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH!"

The crowd collectively gasped.

A record scratch in everyone's soul.

"No," Maria whispered. "No, she didn't."

Lucia dropped her drink. "Mona really just... Nickelbacked us."

Mike looked genuinely betrayed. "I trusted this party."

Tanisha groaned. "That's the first time someone's ever emotionally punched me with Nickelback."

Andrew blinked. "I feel like I was just Rickrolled by a frat dad."

Daniel was already halfway to the DJ booth. "Not on my watch."

Andrew chased after him. "Wait—what are we doing?"

Daniel turned around, his starry shirt swishing dramatically. "We're saving this party."

Mike, Madison, Lucia, Tanisha, and Maria all nodded behind them, a makeshift Avengers lineup of party heroes.

Lucia whispered, "Swifties assemble."

Andrew grabbed the mic from the DJ—who immediately sighed in relief like someone had just ended a hostage situation.

"Okay," Andrew said, adjusting the volume, "no disrespect to people who enjoy aggressively yelled rock ballads about photographs, but this is a Swiftie-friendly zone."

Daniel jumped in. "And we vote for joy, glitter, and emotional dancing—not Chad Kroeger screaming at us like we stole his last Mountain Dew."

Madison grabbed the playlist from the DJ and scrolled rapidly. "I got this."

Maria nodded. "We need a bop. A save-the-party banger."

Tanisha grinned. "I got just the one."

She tapped play—

And then, from the speakers, rose a sweet, powerful intro:

"It's you and me, there's nothing like this…"

Enchanted.

The crowd erupted.

Lucia screamed. "YES! THE TWIRL SONG!"

Daniel immediately grabbed Andrew's hand and spun him into the middle of the crowd.

"Come on, Clarke," he said, grinning. "Time to turn this ballad into a BRO-MENT."

Andrew, flustered but laughing, twirled, stumbled slightly, then leaned into the drama, throwing his arms out like a Swiftie figure skater.

Mike fist-pumped from the crowd. "LET'S GO, TWINKLY EMOTION ENERGY!"

Mona, clearly fuming from the sidelines, shouted, "You'll all thank me when you discover real music!"

To which Madison replied, holding up her phone like a sacred tablet, "Ma'am, Evermore has entered the chat."

The music swelled:

"This night is sparkling, don't you let it go…"

Everyone clapped, twirled, and sang, tears almost forming from sheer cathartic joy.

Mona sighed, muttered something about "no taste," and stormed back into the house to probably file a formal complaint with her soul.

As the song ended, Andrew turned to Daniel, flushed, laughing, and breathless.

"I can't believe we just rebelled against Nickelback with a fairy tale anthem."

Daniel nodded. "Swifties don't play."

Mike clapped them both on the back. "You guys? You saved the soul of this party."

Lucia added, "And did it with twirls. Iconic."

Tanisha, wiping a tear. "We lived. We laughed. We danced like we were made of starlight."

Maria grinned. "Now someone queue up Karma before Mona comes back with Creed."

The group laughed, collapsed into each other, and danced under the lights again, the speaker booming with the sounds of Taylor reclaiming the night.

No Nickelback in sight.

Just friendship. Glitter. And a very strong sense of musical justice.

Because sometimes?

It takes two Swiftie bros and their fabulous gang to save a party…
and restore peace to the glitter-filled universe.