Ella had been to this house hundreds of times. It was a three-storey townhouse just North of London, converted into a student home in the mid-1990s.
With two large bedrooms on each floor, two bathrooms, a pretty decent kitchen and living room, and a reasonably big garden, it was perfect for that lifestyle despite falling a little bit into disrepair.
She had lost count of the fun times she'd had between those four walls. Now in her third year at uni, aged 20, she'd had drunken one-night stands, witnessed ridiculous fights and pranks, pulled all-nighters studying and partying. She'd seen and done it all... at least, she thought she had.
The house was busy. There were probably around 40 people there, too many to keep track of, to be honest. The kitchen and living room were the hives of activity, but people were off in other rooms having casual sex and doing drugs -- everything you'd expect from a group of teenagers/early-20s students.
Ella was chatting to one of her best friends in the kitchen, drinking a beer straight from the bottle. The room was loud with overlapping conversations, the faint bass of music thumping through the walls. The sharp tang of spilt beer mixed with the faint smoke drifting in from the garden. Someone was laughing loudly nearby, the sound cutting through the buzz of chatter like a spark.
Ella felt at ease, the kind of comfort that came from knowing every nook and cranny of the place. She wasn't expecting anything special tonight, another typical student party.
She was wearing a cute outfit--a long-sleeved white tank top with thin, horizontal black stripes across it over a soft, unstructured white lace bralette, a short black denim skirt and transparent black tights, and black and white sneakers. She'd picked the outfit for comfort more than anything else, but it didn't escape her notice of how well it suited her. The tight, cropped tank top hugged her petite frame, and the short black denim skirt showed off just enough leg to keep things interesting. She wasn't trying to attract attention, but she was clearly getting it.
Her wavy blonde hair was up in a short ponytail, and winged eyeliner, mascara, subtle eyeshadow, and gorgeous red lipstick accented her beautiful blue eyes.
She looked hot. Really, really hot. Her petite body, with wide hips and an ample butt, and her small but perfectly perky boobs were all standing out, drawing the eye of anyone at the party.
In particular, she was drawing eyes from across the kitchen. She laughed at something her friend said, tilting her head back slightly, her ponytail swaying with the motion. It was then she felt it--a prickling sensation, as if someone was watching her.
Or rather, not someone, but several someones.
She glanced casually over the lip of her beer bottle and saw them: four pairs of unwavering male eyes fixed on her from across the kitchen. Her stomach did a little flip, and she quickly looked away, heat rising to her cheeks.
She kept looking over out of the corner of her eye. Her friend's words became a blur, drowned out by the magnetic pull of those four sets of eyes across the room. She could feel their attention like a physical weight, their gazes roving up and down her body, pausing as if lingering on each curve. It wasn't just a passing glance--it was deliberate, calculated, and completely unabashed.
Her stomach fluttered, a mix of flattery and nervous energy, as her mind began to race. Why were they staring? What were they thinking? What did they want? The questions came faster than she could answer, each adding to the warmth rising in her chest.
She smiled, just barely, the corner of her lips curling in a flirtatious tease. Her fingers tightened slightly around the beer bottle, and she brought it to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The cool glass pressed against her mouth felt grounding, a stark contrast to the heat simmering inside her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but the way she tilted the bottle and let her tongue graze the rim felt... suggestive. Maybe it was for their benefit. Perhaps it wasn't. But it felt good.
She still wasn't expecting anything to happen. This was just harmless fun, right? A playful moment that would melt away like so many others. The thing is - she didn't want it to melt away. She wanted to see where it would lead...
Ella excused herself, knowing that leaving the room would mean walking past the four guys. She hoped it would prompt an interaction, especially if she looked at them as she walked past.
She put down her drink, glancing over to make sure they were still watching (which, of course, they were), and then walked confidently but slowly past them, making sure to give them all her best angles.
As she walked past, she heard one of them call out to her, "Hey, has anyone ever told you you really stand out?"
She didn't know what to say, turning toward them, making eye contact as he spoke again.
"You could be the star of the show."
Ella was confused--what was he talking about? Star of the show?
"Excuse me?" she replied apprehensively. She looked at the guys more closely and realized just how attractive they all were. Her stomach fluttered as their collective attention fixed on her, magnetic and intense.
"Yeah, you've got something. Magnetic. We've all been staring all night. You know that, right?" he replied, his voice casual but deliberate. "Why don't you come with us?"
Ella's mind raced. This was crazy--she didn't even know these guys. But something about the way he looked at her, the confidence in his voice, made her stomach flutter. Her pulse quickened as she hesitated, unsure whether to follow instinct or logic. And then, before she could overthink it, her hand was already in his, and he led her out of the room.
The hallway was cooler than the kitchen and quieter, too; the sound of music and voices faded into the background as he led her away. Her sneakers scuffed lightly against the wooden floor, the echo of each step adding to the surreal feeling blooming in her chest.
Before long, he opened the door to an empty bedroom, stepping inside with his three friends in tow.
Ella stepped into the room nervously but with great anticipation and, dare she admit it, excitement. She had never been in a position like this before in her life. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the lump in her throat rose and fell with every shallow breath.
She wasn't sure what had brought her here-curiosity, excitement, or something darker she didn't want to name. But now, standing in front of them, she could feel it: the magnetic pull of their attention, like gravity itself had shifted around her.
