I'm so fucking pumped, so damn happy—like I've hit pure ecstasy without popping a single pill. Today was unreal. Honestly, I never saw it coming. But everything unfolded so naturally, so unexpectedly perfect, that I'm still wrapping my head around it. For a moment, it felt like the universe decided to line up in my favor—something that doesn't happen often.
Believe me, I've pulled off some wild shit. I've thrown parties that had the whole campus buzzing for weeks, talked my way out of trouble with nothing but charm, and closed deals that seemed impossible. But today… with all the weight I was carrying, everything it meant, and still setting it all aside—the scholarship, the lies, the doubts—it was different. It was thrilling to see so many frat guys, so many people, rally around something that started out looking like a total flop. There was this electric energy in the air, like everyone knew they were part of something bigger, something worth it. Watching all those guys—from Sigma Nu to Kappa Alpha—standing shoulder to shoulder with the collective made me feel, for once, like I wasn't alone in this mess.
I'll admit it: I was nervous as hell. I thought it was gonna crash and burn. My hands were shaking, and I didn't even know how to look people in the eye, which is rare for me. I usually ooze confidence, this unshakable vibe that's my shield. Like I've always got an ace up my sleeve. But this time, I wasn't so sure. The pressure was real—not just the scholarship I need to keep my dad off my back, but because I knew it mattered to them, to the collective, to everyone putting something on the line. I wanted to nail it, not just for me, but for them. For Ethan.
And when it all seemed doomed, when the vibe was getting tense and the silence was heavy, with just a handful of students around the stand in White Plaza and the sun fading, my saviors showed up. Morgan came striding in like he owned the place, with the girls right behind him—Amber leading the charge, her whole sorority in tow, their laughter cutting through the quiet like a damn battalion. Then more and more people rolled in—guys from other houses, collective members, even a couple of professors who stopped to gawk. White Plaza turned into a vibrant spectacle, alive with lights, laughter, and flags waving in the breeze, the air thick with a growing murmur of voices like a wave building.
But when I found out Ethan was the one who left Morgan that message, it all clicked. This guy, with his damn knack for making things matter more, had been pulling strings without me even noticing. Ever since he came into my life, everything's felt easier, lighter. With him, laughter replaced doubts, and certainty started to feel possible. I don't know how he does it, but he's got this way of looking at you, talking to you, that makes you feel like you're not fucking everything up. Like he sees something in me I don't, and it throws me off.
Shit… how did I go so long without him? Now that he's close, every time I look at him, I realize no one's ever cared about me like this. He's a safe haven. A relief. Everything that's fucking right in this goddamn life. It's not just that he makes me smile or plays along with this scholarship charade. Somehow, he makes me want to be better, even if it sounds like some cheesy bullshit.
He's become my best friend, and it only took a couple of months. Sounds weird, but when he joined me, everything shifted. He calmed me down. Gave me something like peace, something I didn't know I needed until I had it. I stepped up big time with the flyer campaign, but knowing it was because of him… fuck, something inside me came undone. This guy's a fucking angel dropped from heaven, and I'm not exaggerating. It's like he's got this gift for showing up right when everything's about to go to shit and making it work.
When the event wrapped, Morgan called us back, and we helped Jackie pack everything into boxes and load them onto a truck parked near campus. The air smelled like damp paper and cold food, but no one complained. We had that rare mix of exhaustion and euphoria that hits when things go better than expected. My arms ached from hauling boxes and handing out flyers, but every laugh, every shoulder bump with the crew, made it worth it. Jackie was glowing, barking orders like a general but with a grin that wouldn't quit. Morgan, cool as ever, checked everything over like nothing could faze him.
Jake, of course, was the first to say the night couldn't end there. Once he said it, it was a done deal. White Plaza had been a party, but we never know when to stop. "This deserves a real celebration," he said, with that energy that makes everyone follow, even if it's a crazy idea. So we headed back to the Alpha Centauri house, laughing, planning to keep the party going as campus lights started flickering on.
We walked toward Old Campus—a big group: a couple of Delta girls, Morgan, Ethan, Jake, and the collective crew. Jokes flew back and forth, steps crisscrossed, someone started singing some off-key pop song—I think it was a mangled version of something—and we all joined in, shamelessly butchering it. I realized, without overthinking, I was just enjoying it. Never thought I'd feel this comfortable with them. Jackie, especially, has this infectious energy, like her laugh could lift anyone, even on their worst day.
Mason came up behind me, slinging an arm around my neck, his breath smelling like mint gum. "My Golden Boy, huh?" he said, laughing with a familiarity I didn't know he had. "You killed it today."
"Why's that?" I asked, playing dumb, though I had a pretty good idea.
"Come on, Whitman. You hopped up on that stage like you owned the campus, talking like you had a megaphone in your soul, cape and all, like fucking Superman. Jake almost fell over laughing."
I couldn't help but laugh too. I'd only done it to make Ethan smile. I caught him watching from below, a spark in his eyes. His laugh hit me like a shot of adrenaline, and fuck, it was worth every second of looking ridiculous. "It was for the show," I said, shrugging, though truth is, it was for him.
"Sure, sure." Mason gave my chest a friendly pat, his hand firm but warm. "Hero of the day."
We kept walking toward the house, the cool night air brushing my skin. Campus lights twinkled in the distance, and music from some dorm drifted faintly, like an echo of the energy still buzzing around us. "Who stole the show the most?" I asked, just to keep the convo going.
"You and Nichols," he said without hesitation. "Covered in glitter. Even on your ass."
He cracked up and wiped a stray bit of glitter off my cheek with his thumb, leftover from when the guys ambushed us with a whole bag in the plaza. "Thought you two hated each other."
"I don't hate anyone," I said, more serious than I meant to. "I don't like doing it. I only threw a punch because he was being a dick to Ethan. And I don't like that."
Mason lowered his voice, his eyes locked on mine, like he was trying to read me. "You've been defending him a lot lately, huh?"
I didn't know what to say. My pulse spiked, like I'd been caught at something I didn't even understand. "You know something?" he said, his tone a mix of camaraderie and warning. "That kid's worth too much. Don't fuck it up. Even if this whole thing you're doing is a lie, don't let him get hurt. Sometimes the one who ends up broken is the last one you'd expect."
I didn't respond. I glanced back. Ethan was walking with Jackie, laughing at something I couldn't hear. They looked good together, relaxed, like the world couldn't touch them right then. I don't know when they got so close, but that image hit me with a weird feeling, like a knot I couldn't untie.
Mason was right. I adore Ethan. He's good for me. I don't want this to hurt him or make him think there's something I can't give him. But I also don't get why, every time I look at him, my pulse races. Like my body knows something my head's not ready to admit.
Maybe it's the night. Or maybe it's not.
When we turned the corner to Old Campus, the noise hit us from a distance—a mix of music, shouts, and laughter spilling everywhere. Colored lights lit up the trees, and the air smelled like booze, sweat, and something sweet I couldn't place, maybe leftover cotton candy from the plaza.
The streets were blocked off. The whole campus seemed to converge on one spot: the Alpha Centauri house. Sure, there were other houses nearby, but tonight, we were the epicenter. People were everywhere—on the street, balconies, inside the house, even in the pool, where a group was belting out an off-key chorus, their voices bouncing off the water. The energy was overwhelming, like no one wanted the day to end.
I spotted Joe and Chris on the porch with Julie and Jackson, who'd gotten there with Jake earlier. They were soaked, some covered in glitter, others holding cups, screaming song lyrics that barely made sense. Joe was doing a ridiculous dance, flailing his arms like a broken robot, and Chris was laughing so hard he could barely stand.
Mason let out a laugh at the sight. "Well, looks like the campus surrendered to Alpha Centauri," he said, nudging me.
I couldn't do anything but laugh. It was a mess. Total chaos. But a beautiful kind of chaos, like everyone decided to forget their problems for one night and just live.
Morgan raised his arms like he was giving a command and shouted something no one heard, his voice lost in the crowd's roar. Then he started laughing too, his deep laugh cutting through the air. Jackie and the Delta girls dove into the madness without hesitation, and soon the whole collective was mixed into the crowd, their colorful shirts standing out among the sea of bodies.
Ethan looked at me, smiling. "Ready?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
I nodded, feeling a surge of energy pulling me forward.
And there we were, plunged into the insanity: lights, music, people jumping, hugs, cups clinking in the air. It was all noise, heat, motion. Nothing made sense, and yet everything did. For a moment, I thought if someone had told me a few months ago I'd end up celebrating like this, surrounded by all these people, I'd have called them crazy. But there I was. Laughing. Living something I honestly didn't want to end.
Inside the house, the air pulsed. The bass made the floor shake, the music blaring so loud you felt it in your chest. David Guetta's "Titanium" with Sia was cranked to the max, mixed with crowd screams, clinking cups, and laughter erupting from the pool. The hardwood floor vibrated under everyone's jumping feet.
The party was wild, but the good kind of wild. Guys from different frats competed in stupid challenges: who could climb to the roof fastest, who could cross the yard without spilling their beer, who danced the worst. Some ran through the streets, others climbed onto cars with flags, yelling like they'd won a championship. Foam shot from an improvised cannon in the garden, and neon lights painted sweaty faces purple, giving everything an almost surreal vibe.
I was in the middle of it all, laughing, aimless. Amber suddenly appeared, grabbed my hand, and dragged me to the center. We danced like maniacs, jumping, screaming the chorus of Rihanna's "We Found Love" like our lives depended on it. Amber shoved me, laughing, I spun, and ended up dancing with a Delta girl, Liv, waving an empty bottle like a mic. Then Emily showed up, soaked to the bone, dancing on a bench, her hair plastered to her face as she belted the lyrics with a huge grin.
The music shifted to Martin Garrix's "Animals." The bass dropped, the crowd roared, and the rhythm got frantic. When I looked up, Ethan was right in front of me. I didn't think. I just smiled and moved closer.
He hesitated for a second but then let go. There was no room for overthinking. Just motion. Jumps, shoulder bumps, the bass pounding in my gut. We moved in sync, so close I could feel the heat rising between us. It wasn't a slow, planned dance. It was pure impulse, like the music had grabbed us and wouldn't let go.
I didn't care about anything. Not the stares, not the comments. I was happy. Light. Like everything from the day had finally broken free. I saw Ethan smile—genuinely, laughing in a way I'd never seen before. His green eyes sparkled under the neon lights, and I swear that image burned into me, like a photo I never want to lose.
When the song switched to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis's "Can't Hold Us," someone pushed us from behind, and we ended up laughing, stumbling together. Jackie grabbed my hand and pulled me into the circle where everyone was jumping in rhythm. She screamed the lyrics, her hair bouncing as she waved her arms like she was conducting an invisible orchestra. I just followed, lost in the moment.
The noise was total. Flashing lights, flying cups, someone jumping from the roof into the pool with a yell that got everyone cheering. Absolute chaos. But beautiful. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I didn't need to understand it. Just live it.
"I'm giving you the recommendation!" Jackie shouted, pushing through the crowd, her voice barely cutting through the noise.
The music was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. The bass thumped in my chest, and Calvin Harris's voice mixed with screams, laughter, and clinking bottles. Still, through it all, I caught what she said.
"What?" I yelled back, though I'd heard her clear as day.
Jackie leaned in, laughing, her face lit up by neon, her warm breath against my ear. "I'm giving you the recommendation!"
For a second, I wasn't sure I heard right. "For real?" I asked, a mix of shock and excitement making my heart leap.
"Tomorrow, I'm taking it to Sterling," she shouted, raising a finger like she was swearing an oath. "Thanks to you, to all of you, to these guys, today was incredible for us. And I hope it happens again someday. But you earned it, Whitman."
I let out a laugh and, without thinking, hugged her tight, lifting her off the ground. "Fuck, Jackie!" I laughed, spinning her until she squealed, her laughter blending into the chaos. "You're the best!"
"Calm down!" she shot back, still laughing, giving me a playful shove when I set her down. "Don't pull the dumb shit you did years ago."
"No worries, I've got it under control," I said, winking as I caught my breath.
She smacked my chest and nodded toward the center of the yard. "Go on, don't leave him hanging."
I followed her gaze. Ethan was dancing with Julie. Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" was playing, and the vibe was pure frenzy. They were laughing, spinning, singing the chorus with their arms up, their silhouettes framed against the colored lights. They looked like they'd forgotten the world, lost in the rhythm and the night's energy.
For a moment, I just stood there, watching. If I didn't know Ethan was gay, I might've thought there was something between them. They were so close, so in sync, I almost believed it. But no. It was just the moment, the noise, the high. Julie had that easy laugh that filled the space, and Ethan… fuck, Ethan was smiling in a way I'd never seen, like he'd let all his guards down for a second.
Still, I felt a little knot in my stomach. I didn't know why. Maybe because Julie fit so well with him, or because that smile made me want to be the one causing it. I shook my head, trying to brush it off. Ridiculous. At least it wasn't that asshole Mike with him. That would've pissed me off, though, honestly, I don't know why I even thought of that prick right then.
I pushed into their circle with a playful nudge. "Hey, Bennett, you ditching your hero of the day for a sorority girl?" I teased, giving him a light elbow.
Ethan turned to me, his smile pure challenge. "Careful, Whitman, Julie's got better moves than you," he shot back, his voice dripping with mockery as he kept dancing.
Julie laughed and pulled me in. "Come on, Golden Boy, keep up," she said, her eyes sparkling with fun.
And there I was, dancing with them, caught in the rhythm, the laughter, the endless energy. Morgan passed by, raising a cup and yelling something unintelligible. Joe and Chris were in a corner, locked in some dumb challenge with Jackson, who seemed to be avoiding Joe, while Mason climbed onto a table, screaming the song's chorus like it was the end of the world. The air smelled of sweat, booze, and that undefined sweetness, and the house, despite the chaos, was still our solid, clean anchor.
For a second, jumping to the beat with Ethan and Julie, I felt something I couldn't explain. It wasn't just the party or the day's success. It was him. The way he looked at me, like he knew exactly who I was, even with all this bullshit. And fuck, it scared me as much as it made me feel alive. This crazy plan, this lie that started as a desperate move to save my ass, was taking me somewhere I didn't expect. And something told me, with Ethan by my side, I wasn't ready for what was coming, but I didn't want it to stop.
****
The party didn't slow down—it kept growing, like every song sparked something new. At some point, a Sigma Lambda DJ—I think it was Derek, the guy with the backward cap and headphones always dangling—showed up with a console and speakers so massive they looked stolen from a stadium. When he hooked it all up, the vibe exploded. The yard became an open dance floor, the trampled grass glistening under spinning lights. Smoke curled upward, mixing with the smell of liquor and sweat, and the crowd's screams blended with the bass rattling the house walls.
The rhythm was impossible to ignore. Collective guys danced with sorority girls; some with other guys, others with whoever was nearby, no one caring. It all flowed, natural, like the world's rules had melted away for the night. No one gave weird looks, no one judged. Just people having a blast, lost in the heat and music. Red cups flew through the air, laughter erupted in every corner, and songs like Avicii's "Levels" played like anthems, the crowd jumping in unison, their shadows dancing against the trees. Some ran through hallways, others climbed stairs hand in hand, disappearing into lights and laughter, finding corners to keep the night going their way. Couples of all kinds kissed without fear, their silhouettes outlined against the neon glow, and the air buzzed with a summer heat that refused to fade.
I paused for a moment, trying to take it all in, my heart still racing from the afternoon's high. The Alpha Centauri house was alive, pulsing with energy, but still our solid home. And then I saw him. Ethan, leaning against a porch pillar, a beer in hand, calm, smiling, like he was in his own world, watching the madness from a safe distance. A spotlight hit him from the side, lighting up his messy hair and the soft curve of his mouth that made it impossible to look away.
I made my way over, dodging a couple dancing in the hallway, their bodies bumping with laughter. "Looks like you're having fun, Bennett," I said, raising my voice over the noise.
Ethan turned to me, half-smiling. "Think I'm a little drunk," he said, offering me the beer with a lazy gesture.
I took it, downed a sip, the cold liquid burning my throat, and handed it back, my fingers brushing his for a moment. "Doesn't seem to bother you," I teased, leaning against the pillar beside him.
"Not one bit," he said, laughing, his voice low but clear, cutting through the noise like he was only talking to me.
We stood there for a while, not saying much. The noise was deafening—music pounding, people screaming—but between us, it felt different. Easy. Comfortable. Like, in the middle of the chaos, we'd carved out a space that was just ours. Ethan laughed at something I don't even remember, a comment lost in the din, and I looked at him. His laugh was different, real, lighting up his face in a way that hit me square in the chest. His green eyes caught the garden lights, reflecting glints from bottles and neons, and for a second, everything else faded.
And I liked it. Liked it more than I should.
"Alright, let's play Pong!" Mason yelled from one of the tables, his voice booming like thunder, turning the party's noise into cheers and shouts.
In seconds, someone dragged a long table to the center of the yard, the wood creaking under the weight of red cups arranged in triangles, filled with mixes that smelled like beer, rum, vodka, and something sickly sweet I didn't want to identify. Lights flashed, music pulsed, and everyone crowded around, bodies bumping in a chaotic dance.
"This is already out of hand," I said, half-laughing, half-resigned, feeling the crowd's heat sticking to my skin.
"That's what you say now," Jake said, popping up with a full cup, his mischievous grin glowing under the lights. "Bet in ten minutes, you're playing."
And maybe he was right.
Before Mason could explain the rules, Amber stepped up in front of everyone. She strode to the center, raised her arms like she was conducting an orchestra, and shouted, "But let's make it different!"
The noise paused for a second. Everyone looked at her, waiting, the air thick with anticipation. "Different how?" Chris asked, still laughing as he leaned on the table, leaving wet handprints on the wood.
Amber grinned, that grin that always spells trouble. "Not just drinking," she said, gesturing wildly, her hair bouncing. "Let's make it more fun."
Some started whistling, others laughing, the sound building like a wave. "What's your plan?" Mason asked, arms crossed, knowing it wouldn't be good.
"We throw the balls blindfolded or without looking," she explained, full of energy. "Then we check whose balls land in which cups."
"And how do we know whose are whose?" someone yelled from the back, barely audible.
"We mark them with our names," Amber said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And if two or three people's balls land in the same cup, those people drink together… and…" She paused for drama, savoring the silence. "…they kiss."
The yard erupted. Screams, applause, whistles, people jumping. Some raised their arms, others laughed in disbelief, but no one objected. "This is gonna be wild!" Jake shouted, slapping Mason's shoulder.
"Yeah, and dangerous," I muttered, though I was already laughing, the night's heat creeping up my neck.
The music cranked up right then. The DJ switched to DJ Snake's "Turn Down for What," and the place exploded again. Lights went crazy, red and blue flashes cutting through the smoke, hands scribbled names on ping-pong balls with markers, and for a moment, I thought this night would never end.
I don't know where or how so many ping-pong balls and pens appeared—like someone summoned them from Mount Olympus—but suddenly everyone had one. We all started writing our names on the white plastic, laughing, shoving, the smell of booze heavy in the air. Even I got caught up in the group's energy, scribbling my name on a ball with a blue marker someone passed me.
I saw Ethan trying to slip away through the crowd, but Amber caught him before he could escape. She grabbed his arm and shoved a ball and pen into his hands. "Sign it, Bennett," she said, pointing at him with a smile that left no room for argument.
Ethan rolled his eyes, half-laughing, and wrote his name, his handwriting crooked but clear. I couldn't help but laugh at how defeated he looked, like accepting this little stupidity was his final surrender to the night.
The DJ turned up the volume, and David Guetta's "Where Them Girls At" made the ground shake. Screams filled the yard, cups raised, glinting under the lights. Amid the smoke, neons, and the crowd gearing up for the game, I felt that spark of collective madness that only hits when everyone's too tired to think and too happy to stop.
We all looked at each other, ready for the chaos. And then someone yelled, "Let the game begin!"
The yard was fully lit. The pong table glowed under the lights, cups lined up in triangles, filled to the brim with mixes that smelled like disaster. Everyone crowded around, screaming, pushing, laughing, the air thick with sweat and booze. "First round!" Amber shouted, perched on a chair like the emcee of some wild ritual. "Mark your balls, here we go!"
The DJ dropped the volume a bit, leaving a rhythmic pulse in the background. We all counted down together: "Three! Two! One! Go!"
Balls flew. Some missed the table by yards, bouncing on the grass; others hit heads, sparking laughter. Jackie threw hers blindfolded, cracking up; Mason covered his eyes, his shot clumsy but lucky; Jake shoved Morgan forward, and Morgan threw without looking, his ball miraculously landing in a cup. Ethan, a bit back, hesitated, his face caught between amusement and resignation, before tossing his with a calm smile.
Cups shook with impacts. People yelled every time a ball landed, the plastic-on-plastic clack echoing in the chaos. The smell of booze mixed with warm air, lights spun in circles, and everyone cheered like it was a championship final.
When the last throw ended, Amber called for quiet, raising her hands like a queen. "Alright, let's see what we've got!" she said, carefully picking up the first cup, her fingers sticky with spilled liquor.
"Jackie and Jackson!" Mason yelled from the other side.
The crowd roared. Jackie covered her face for a second, laughing, while Jackson bowed dramatically, his soaked shirt gleaming under the lights. They counted to three, stepped up, and the kiss was quick but intense, their lips crashing with a spark of fun that set off applause. They drank from the cup, Jackie grimacing at the taste, and raised their arms, triumphant, as the crowd cheered.
Amber checked another cup, holding it like a trophy. "Mason and Julie!"
More screams, more applause. Mason shrugged, his confident smile lit by neon. He leaned toward Julie, who gave him a challenging look, and the kiss was short but electric, their lips brushing with a spark that drew whistles. They pulled apart laughing, clinking cups before drinking, liquor dripping down their chins.
Jake dug through the cups, his laugh booming. "Chris and Joe," he announced. "But no one else hit with them."
The two looked at each other, resigned, Joe shrugging. "We're safe," he said, raising his sparkling water before chugging it, while Chris laughed and slapped his back.
"This one's good!" Amber shouted, holding up another cup. "Amber and Morgan!"
The crowd's laughter enveloped them. Morgan tried to wave it off, shaking his head with a smile, but Amber was already grabbing his shirt, her fingers firm. The kiss was quick, playful, and the yell that followed nearly shook the windows. They drank together, Amber spilling a bit on the grass as she laughed.
Then Izan ended up with a girl from another frat, their lips meeting in a clumsy but warm clash that got cheers; Nichols with a Gamma Beta guy, a quick but confident kiss that drew the loudest screams, mostly because it felt like divine irony after his homophobic comments blew up; and the laughter kept growing with every turn, the air buzzing with the night's energy.
Until Mason lifted a cup and read: "Ethan and… Nidia!"
The group cheered, and Ethan smiled, nervous, gripping his cup tighter. Nidia, a Delta girl with blue-dyed hair, laughed, whispered something I couldn't hear, and before he could react, leaned in and kissed him. It was short, playful, their lips barely brushing, but enough to make the crowd erupt in whistles and chants of their names. Ethan pulled back, laughing, running a hand through his hair, his face flushed under the lights as Nidia winked at him.
I picked up my cup, feeling a pang I didn't want to dwell on. "What about mine?" I asked, forcing a smile.
Amber checked and gave me a teasing look. "Just you, Whitman."
"Well, at least I dodge the scandal," I said, downing it in one gulp, the liquor burning my throat as everyone cheered anyway.
But when I lowered the cup, my eyes went straight to Ethan. He was still laughing, talking to Nidia, and for some reason I couldn't fully grasp, something twisted in my chest. Not anger, not jealousy, just… discomfort. A small, stupid pang I tried to shake off with a grin.
The second round kicked off with screams, laughter, and clinking cups. The DJ switched to Afrojack's "Take Over Control," and the vibe reignited, the bass shaking the ground. Balls flew again. Some threw blindfolded, others with eyes closed, others just chucked without aiming, their moves sloppy from the booze. The air smelled of liquor, heat, euphoria. Lights flashed every color, painting sweaty faces.
Amber and Jake checked the cups, Jake playing makeshift judge, his shirt clinging to his sweaty body. "Jackie and Mason!" he shouted.
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Jackie shoved him before stepping up, her eyes sparkling with fun. The kiss was quick but warm, their lips meeting with a spark, and they pulled apart still grinning, Mason wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the crowd roared.
"Next!" Amber announced. "Julie and Amber!"
The screams multiplied. The two shared a knowing smile, stepped close, and the kiss was intense, their lips moving with energy, almost theatrical, sparking applause and whistles. Julie raised her hands in victory, and Amber leaned into her, laughing, their faces glowing under the neon.
"Joe and Nidia!" Jake yelled next.
They stepped up, clinked cups—Joe's with sparkling water—and did their part, a short but solid kiss that drew general laughter. Nidia gave Joe a playful elbow, and he responded with an exaggerated bow.
"Morgan and Chris!" Amber said, grabbing the next cup.
Chris raised an eyebrow, amused. "Come to daddy, Morgan," he joked, sparking a chorus of laughs.
Morgan shook his head, smiling, but stepped up anyway. The kiss was quick, a light but sure brush, and they ended up laughing, Morgan slapping Chris's shoulder. "Don't get any ideas," he said, his voice carrying over the noise. "Just for tonight."
Jake checked the last cup. "Noah and Annie!"
The crowd cheered. Annie, a girl from another frat with her hair in a messy braid, stepped up laughing. "Guess it's happening," she said, her eyes bright under the lights.
"Guess so," I said, amused, feeling the liquor's warmth in my chest. We shared a quick kiss, her lips warm but fleeting, and everyone applauded, the sound blending with the music.
Ethan watched from the back, smiling tightly, a cup in hand. His name hadn't come up this time, but he didn't seem to care, leaning casually against the pillar, though our eyes met for a second, and something in my chest flipped.
The DJ kept the momentum, chaining David Guetta's "Without You" into Avicii's "Wake Me Up," and the vibe stayed electric. The table was littered with half-empty cups, balls with smudged names, and a crowd growing looser by the minute. In the third round, Joe ended up with Julie. They laughed before stepping up, and the kiss was playful, their lips brushing with a spark of fun, Julie shoving him afterward while Joe raised his hands like he'd scored a goal, the crowd roaring, and I noticed Jackson tensing up from a distance.
Jackie got Amber in the fourth. The scene was chaotic and hilarious: they eyed each other boldly, grabbed hands, and the kiss was intense, their lips moving with an energy that seemed to ignite the air, their bodies so close you could feel the sparks. When they pulled apart, the crowd roared, and Jackie raised her cup high, yelling something lost in the chaos.
Ethan and Nichols got paired in one round. They stood still for a moment, eyeing each other with a hint of awkwardness, the echo of their past tension lingering. Ethan smiled first, that disarming grin of his, and Nichols let out a nervous laugh. They stepped up, and the kiss was short but solid, their lips meeting with a spark of reconciliation, and the group cheered with shouts and jokes. They ended up laughing, Nichols slapping Ethan's shoulder, whispering something in his ear like they'd just called a truce.
I tried to laugh with everyone, but something in my gut gave a little twist. Not annoyance, not jealousy, nothing I could name. Just a weird, automatic reaction I didn't get.
In another round, my name came up with Jackie's. She laughed, stepped up, grabbed my face with both hands, and yelled, "Make your dreams come true, Whitman!"
Before I could respond, she planted a hard kiss on me, her lips warm and bold, the kind that makes everyone scream. The crowd lost it, and Jackie raised her arms like she'd won the year's trophy, her laugh echoing over the bass.
Ethan was in the back, laughing too, though for a second, I caught something in his expression. Hard to say what—discomfort, maybe, or just surprise. I didn't dwell on it; the noise, lights, and chaos didn't leave room for it.
The night rolled on, with screams, laughter, and empty cups. Each round got more absurd, louder, freer. And somehow, without knowing why, every time my eyes found Ethan, he was looking back, his gaze cutting through the chaos like he knew something I hadn't figured out yet.
The final round was pure insanity. No one knew how many drinks they'd had or what song was playing, just that everyone was screaming, laughing, and shoving under spinning lights. The table was sticky, cups half-empty, balls glowing under the neon like part of the show.
"Last round!" Amber yelled from her chair, her voice hoarse, hair a mess. "All at once! Let's end it big!" Jake added, raising his cup, liquor spilling over the edge.
Without a countdown, we all threw our balls at once. It was a mess of bounces, collisions, and screams. Some landed dead-on, others ricocheted off edges, a few got lost in the crowd. No one knew who hit what, but it didn't matter: everyone celebrated like they'd won.
Amber and Mason leaned over the table, checking cups as the DJ cranked the volume, the whole yard jumping. "Jackson, Jake, Morgan, and Amber!" Mason shouted.
The four looked at each other, laughed, and formed a sloppy square. They drank from the same cup, liquor dripping down their chins, and kissed all at once, a clumsy but warm clash of lips that sparked laughter. They looked like kids playing, and the crowd erupted in applause, screams, and whistles.
"Jackie and Julie!" Amber announced, raising another cup.
Jackie squealed, ran to Julie again, and kissed her with an energy that shook the air, their lips moving with a playful spark. Everyone cheered like they'd won a title, and Julie threw a fist up in victory, laughing.
Mason got Joe. They fist-bumped, did their part with a quick but solid kiss, their lips brushing with camaraderie that drew laughs, and ended up hugging, Joe spilling a bit of his sparkling water as Mason slapped his back.
And then, the final cup. Amber grabbed it with both hands, faking solemnity, her sticky fingers glinting under the lights. "Alright… the night's closer," she said, reaching in for the first ball. "Noah with…"
She pulled out the second, held it up, and screamed, "Ethan!"
The whole yard exploded. Screams, applause, whistles, cups raised. Everyone chanted our names, laughing and shoving. I felt heat rush to my face, the noise blending with my pulse, the moment stretching, bright, absurd, impossible to ignore.
And there we were: Ethan and me, in the center of the circle, the whole world screaming around us.
I'd never been this nervous in my life. Seriously, never. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear the crowd's deafening chant of "Kiss, kiss, kiss!" echoing into the night. The crowd pushed us closer, their voices full of teasing and excitement, but all I felt was the heat climbing my chest, blood roaring in my ears. I'd never kissed a guy, not in some dumb game like this, not ever. If it had been Joe, Mason, Nichols, anyone, it would've been easy: a quick peck, laughs, done. But with Ethan… fuck, with Ethan, it was different. He had my pulse racing, my skin burning under my shirt.
I looked at him, just a step away, his shoulders tense, those green eyes glowing like embers under the lights. He was nervous—I could see it in the slight twitch of his jaw, the way he clenched his fists. And his nerves made mine worse. I grabbed the cup where our balls had landed, the damn thing that got us into this, and drank half in one gulp, the liquor bitter and sweet. I passed it to him, my fingers brushing his, a touch that sent a shiver through me, like a current had hit. He took it firmly, his eyes locked on mine, and downed the rest without blinking, his throat moving as he swallowed. That look… fuck, those eyes undid me, drove me crazy.
"You sure you can handle this, Bennett?" I said, forcing a crooked grin, trying to ease the tension choking me, my voice shakier than I wanted.
He gave me a half-smile, pure challenge but with something softer, like he knew what this was costing me.
Suddenly, his hand shot to my shirt, yanking it hard, pulling me toward him. The world vanished. Just his lips crashing into mine, warm, soft, with a faint taste of liquor and something that was just him. The kiss started tentative, almost careful, like he was testing me, his lips brushing mine with a gentleness that made me tremble. But there was a spark, a current that shot from my mouth to my gut, igniting every nerve. We pulled apart for a brief second, close enough for me to see him up close. My body reacted on instinct, and I kissed him again. My hand flew to his cheek, fingers grazing the warmth of his skin, while the other gripped his waist, pulling him with an urgency I couldn't control. He responded, his body pressing closer, and the kiss deepened, grew desperate, his lips parting for me, his tongue brushing mine with a tenderness that clashed with the hunger building between us.
My fingers dug into his waist, feeling the firmness of his body through his shirt, while his hand slid to my nape, tangling in my hair, tugging softly in a way that made me gasp against his mouth. There was something in that touch, the way his fingers moved, like he wanted to hold me, protect me, even if just for a moment. My body betrayed me again—I got hard, but I didn't care, didn't care about anything except him. I felt him harden too, but this time he didn't pull away, didn't push me back. The friction between us was unbearable, a burning pulse that made my breathing ragged. I felt his heat, his body so close I could sense every heartbeat, every shift, and when our bodies pressed tighter, I knew he felt it too, that electricity burning us both. His other hand dropped to my hip, pulling me with a mix of firmness and care, like he wanted to merge us without breaking the moment.
The kiss slowed, grew more intimate, his lips moving with a softness that unraveled me, like he was saying something without words. Every brush was a whisper, a silent promise, and I swear for a moment I forgot where we were, who we were, what this was. Just him, his warmth, his breath mixing with mine, his hand on my nape holding me like he didn't want to let go. But slowly, we pulled apart, my lips still tingling, my chest heaving.
The world slammed back: the noise, the lights, the music. Everything that had vanished hit like a tidal wave. And the silence.
Everyone was staring. No one was screaming anymore. No cheers, no applause, just a heavy, thick silence, like they were all trying to process what they'd just seen. Jackie, Amber, Morgan… they stood there, expressions of shock, not judgment, just confusion, their cups frozen mid-air.
I tensed up instantly. I looked at Ethan. He met my gaze, just as nervous, his green eyes still glowing but now with a vulnerability I hadn't seen before. My right hand was on his waist, his on my nape, and my left—somehow—had ended up on his ass, no idea when that happened, but suddenly we both realized how close we were. We stepped back at the same time, like distance could erase what just happened.
My head was spinning. My heart was still racing. I didn't get it. What the fuck just happened? What did I just do? Why did I do it? And why, fuck, did it feel so good, so right, like I'd been waiting for this moment without knowing?
Ethan stayed quiet, eyes down, breathing fast, his chest rising and falling as he ran a hand through his hair. No one spoke for a few seconds that felt like forever. And then, like someone broke a spell, the crowd erupted again. The yard exploded with applause, laughter, and cheers, the noise hitting like a freight train.
The music roared back, lights spun, voices rose. But inside me, everything was still spinning. I looked at Ethan one more time, and he looked back, a shy smile creeping onto his face, like he knew something I was still piecing together. This charade, this game that started as a lie to save my ass, had just become something way bigger. And fuck, I don't know if I'm ready for what's next, but I don't know if I want it to stop.
****
The party kept going, but for me, it was over. The lights still spun, painting the yard in colors that blurred in the smoke, the music pounded the ground with a bass that rattled my bones, and people still screamed, their voices echoing like a distant hum. But it all sounded muffled, far away, like I was underwater, the world moving in slow motion around me. I drifted through the crowd on autopilot, dodging dancing bodies, bumping shoulders without meaning to, tossing half-hearted smiles to anyone who talked to me, but my head was somewhere else, stuck in a loop I couldn't break.
Ethan was across the yard, surrounded by his group. Julie was gesturing wildly, her laugh cutting through the air as she talked to him, and the others crowded around, laughing, asking questions, their hands moving like they were solving a puzzle. I couldn't hear them—the party's roar was constant—but I didn't need to: I knew what they were talking about. Ethan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, his posture tense, avoiding my eyes. Every time he looked away, I felt a pang in my chest, like someone was tightening a screw I didn't know was there.
I tried to play it cool, smile at whoever spoke to me, crack some empty joke, but my mind was stuck on that moment. I could still feel the electricity on my lips, a tingle that wouldn't fade, my pulse racing like I'd just sprinted a mile. The memory of his hand yanking my shirt, the heat of his body against mine, the taste of his lips, was burning me up. It was insane. My whole life, I'd been clear about what I felt, what I wanted, always with a plan, always one step ahead. And now, that clarity was shattered, scattered pieces I couldn't put together.
I didn't know if I was confused, euphoric, or just out of my mind. All I knew was something inside was restless, a mix of vertigo and desire tying me up, squeezing my ribs. I tried to focus on the music, the lights, the laughter, but it all came back to him. His look, his laugh, the way his hand felt on my nape, firm but soft, like he wanted to hold me and let me go at the same time.
Suddenly, shouts at the entrance. A couple of blue lights flashed through the windows, cutting through the smoke and neon. The cops were here. Chaos erupted in seconds: the music cut out halfway, cups hit the floor, plastic crunching underfoot as everyone started running, grabbing stuff, scattering. Footsteps echoed through hallways, doors slammed, muffled laughs, bottles rolling across the grass. It was a mess, but an organized one, like we all knew exactly how to vanish without a trace.
I don't remember leaving. It's a blur of moving bodies, flashing lights, the smell of booze and wet grass. Next thing I know, I'm in my room, door shut, the silence heavy in my ears like a buzz. The house was still, like the party never happened. I collapsed onto my bed, still dressed, my shirt sticking to my skin with sweat, my heart still pounding too fast.
I kept thinking about him. Ethan. Everything. What I'd done, what we'd done. I felt like the world had shifted an inch, and I was the only one who noticed. It wasn't just the kiss. It was what I felt: that spark that coursed through me, the way his scent—a mix of lotion and something warm, his—lingered on my skin, the taste of his lips I could still savor, sweet and bitter from the liquor. It was crazy. All of it was crazy. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him out of my head. Not him, not his look, not the memory of his lips, not the way his fingers tangled in my hair.
I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, shadows of trees moving outside, cast by a flickering streetlamp. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. His face, his green eyes glowing under the lights, his low voice, the way he looked at me right before everything spilled over. It was like my body was trapped in that moment, unable to move forward. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling hard, the air escaping in a huff that did nothing to help. I couldn't keep lying there, pretending nothing happened. I needed to understand. I needed to talk to him.
I sat up on the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor, the wood smooth under my toes. The silence was so thick I could hear my own heartbeat, fast, erratic. I sat there a moment, breathing deep, trying to convince myself I wasn't about to do something stupid. My hand trembled slightly, and I hated myself for it. I wasn't like this. I didn't hesitate. But this… this was different. This was Ethan. I stood, resolute, the floor creaking under my steps as I walked to the door. Each step felt louder than it was, like the world was waiting to see what I'd do. I put my hand on the knob, hesitated a second, the metal cold against my skin, and opened it.
Ethan was standing right there.
Frozen, hand raised, about to knock, like the universe had aligned again. We both stood there, staring, the air between us thick with something I couldn't name. His eyes, wide open, gleamed in the dim hallway light, his chest rising and falling fast, like he'd run to get here. He stammered, his voice broken, low, almost a whisper. "Uh… I was just…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
I looked at him, not knowing what to say, my heart pounding so hard I thought he could hear it. His lips were parted, his hair messy, falling over his forehead, and there was something in his expression, a mix of nerves and something softer, something that made me want to step closer. Without thinking, I moved forward, my hand grabbing his shirt, fingers tangling in the fabric, and I pulled him inside with an urgency I couldn't control as the door slammed shut behind us.