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“Damn, they’re good,” she yells over the noise, and I nod, the competitive spirit catching fire in my chest. My gaze flits between the players, studying their stance, their focus, their undeniable drive.
“Your turn next?” Sierra quips, eyebrows arched in challenge.
“Maybe.” The word is a tease.
18
BRIELLE
My fingers wrap around the tiny plastic cup, the jiggly crimson shot promising a sweet burn. I toss it back with a practiced flick of my wrist, and the crowd’s roar sets my pulse to race.
“Queen Pong Bri!” someone chants, and I smirk, feeling the sticky residue of victory on my lips. With a swish of my arm, I launch the ping-pong ball, watching it sail through the air—a perfect arc, a flawless descent. It kisses the rim, teases gravity, and then plunks! Right into the last standing cup.
“That’s another win!” someone announces, handing me another shot which I quickly down, my vision blurring in the corners. But amidst the cheers and the clamor, there’s a whisper in my head—Callie. Where is she?
“Hold the fort,” I tell my teammate, winking. “The queen needs to find her lady-in-waiting.”
The room spins slightly as I push through the bodies, laughter and conversations meshing. “Callie?” I call out, my voice barely punching through the music’s throb. No sign of her, no echo of her high-pitched giggle. She’s not at the bar, not draped over a couch, not lost in a sea of grinding bodies.
I stumble slightly, steadying myself against the wall, the coolness of the paint a balm to my heated skin. The night air brushes against my damp skin as I weave through the clusters of partygoers, my senses on high alert. The bass from the speakers is a distant rumble now, and the laughter fades into a hush as I step out onto the patio. Moonlight spills across the pool, casting rippling shadows that dance with a hypnotic grace.
There she is, by the water’s edge, her laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the pool. As I approach, the tall silhouette next to her takes form—a guy, all long limbs and casual poise, with a smile that’s both easygoing and somehow intense. They’re sitting side by side, feet skimming the water’s surface, wrapped up in their own bubble of connection.
“Hey, stranger,” Callie says, her voice tinged with a tease. “Meet Elijah.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, extending a hand.
“Elijah, this is my best friend, Brielle.”
Elijah’s handshake is firm but warm. “So you’re the infamous beer pong queen,” he says.
“Infamous? I prefer legendary,” I quip back, feeling that familiar thrill of banter. Our smiles mirror each other, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air between us.
“Legendary, then,” Elijah concedes, though his smirk suggests he’s not giving away the title easily. “I’m impressed.”
“Should be,” I retort, cocking a brow.
Callie’s eyes dance with mischief. “Feel like going swimming?” she proposes, her voice a mix of dare and adventure.
“Now?” I echo, raising an eyebrow, but the idea sends a thrill through me. The promise of cool water against hot skin is too much to resist. “Hell yes.”
We exchange wicked grins, and in a fluid motion that feels like a shared secret, we shed our clothes. Laughter spills from us, uninhibited, as we strip down to our bras and panties—lace and silk.
“Last one in buys breakfast in the morning!” Callie shouts, already sprinting toward the pool’s edge. I’m at her heels.
We leap together. Water encases us in its embrace, shockingly cold. We emerge gasping, shrieking, alive.
“Join us!” Callie calls out. And like moths to a flame, they come.
One by one, they dive in. Bodies move around us, close but not touching.
I swim, my hair fanning out around me, every fiber of my being alert and alight.
“I’ll be right back,” I announce to Callie.
“Where are you going?”
“Pee.”
