As the sun dipped toward the horizon, throwing long golden streaks across the lawn, someone from the group clapped their hands and shouted, "Alright, enough tanning. It's beer pong time!"
Cheers erupted all around. The guys—still shirtless in swim trunks—rushed to set up folding tables, red cups, and a small mountain of beer cans. The girls, still in bikinis but now wearing loose shirts or tank tops over them, began to gather.
Jade strutted out wearing Chris's Hawaiian shirt—unbuttoned and flowing casually over her swimwear.
Claire raised a brow. "Did you ask to borrow that?"
"Nope," Jade grinned, stretching her arms out dramatically. "But he didn't say no, so... finders keepers."
Chris didn't look up from where he was lining up the cups. "Just don't spill anything on it."
The teams were hastily drawn from a bowl of folded slips. The crowd hushed as the last name was read.
"Ooh," one of the guys said dramatically, "what are the odds? All the rookies end up on the same team. Jade, Amber, Claire... and Chris."
Claire blinked. "What?"
"Guess you're Team Pretty and Clueless," Mason quipped with a smug grin. "Chris, try not to let the girls get too wasted. Rookie rule—captain drinks the extra shots."
Chris just gave a flat stare while a few of the guys and girls exchanged sly smirks, like something had gone exactly to plan.
"Stacked teams, huh?" Amber muttered under her breath. "Totally not rigged."
Jade leaned toward Chris. "Guess we're counting on you."
"Yeah," Claire added dryly. "Since I haven't touched a ping pong ball since middle school gym class."
"Let's just try to land a few," Chris said, nonchalant as always, picking up a ball.
The first game began, and from the start it was clear that luck—or maybe divine intervention—was not on the opposing team's side.
Chris took the first shot. Ping—splash. Right into the center cup.
"Alright," he said, backing off.
Amber missed completely. Claire hit the edge, and it bounced away harmlessly. Jade tried to flick it too hard and sent the ball bouncing off a guy's chest on the sideline.
Cue groans.
"You're just being nice," Jade whispered, strolling up to Chris and holding out a ball. "Can you show me how to do it?"
Chris didn't react at first. Then he shrugged and stepped behind her. He reached around to guide her hand, his touch light but direct as he adjusted her elbow.
"You don't need to flick your wrist that much," he murmured. "Just arc it."
Jade, practically pressed against him now, tilted her head up, eyes half-lidded. "Like this?" she said, clearly emphasizing the curve of her back and the way she stretched.
Chris didn't move. "Yeah. Just like that," he said, then stepped away before she could try anything else.
Jade frowned faintly. Claire, watching from the side, looked vaguely amused.
Jade shot—missed.
"I think I need another lesson," she said sweetly.
"No problem," Chris replied, tossing another ball. Ping—splash.
Another hit. Another cup down.
Jade kept trying to look cute and helpless, playing the role of the ditzy rookie, clearly hoping Chris would react. But he didn't.
By the third round, it wasn't even funny. Chris had hit five shots in a row, clearing cups like he was born doing it.
"Okay, seriously," Mason grumbled from the other side. "This isn't how it was supposed to go."
Chris lined up another shot. "Dad used to play this during college tailgates. Gave me some pointers."
"Of course he did," one of the guys muttered.
By the end of the match, Chris had cleared nearly all the cups himself. The rest of his team had landed maybe one between them. Their opponents groaned as the last cup went down.
"Unbelievable," one guy moaned. "He was supposed to black out first. This backfired so hard."
Jade took a sip from her bottle, pouting. "He doesn't even look tipsy."
"Strong constitution," Chris replied, tossing the ball casually into the air and catching it without looking.
"Or maybe he's just too stubborn to get drunk," Amber muttered, though she was smiling.
A few more rounds of beer pong followed. Chris's team kept winning, while the rest of the guys slowly realized that their brilliant plan had completely imploded. Instead of watching Chris stumble and slur, they were the ones starting to look bleary-eyed and regretful.
"Man's a machine," someone mumbled as Chris casually sank yet another cup.
"Let's just stop before we all need IV drips," Mason groaned from a folding chair, flopping backward like a fainting goat.
The final match ended, and a collective breath of relief swept through the group.
By now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and soft garden lights glowed outside while music from the portable speaker pulsed with a low beat.
"Alright," someone called out, "shower, change, whatever—then it's game night for real."
A short scramble followed as people split off into the house to clean up or change.
Chris swapped his swim trunks for joggers and a dark T-shirt, toweling his hair dry in the hallway mirror. His necklace was back on, and he lazily pulled his straw hat over damp hair like he hadn't just wiped sweat from his neck.
Claire reappeared in denim shorts and a snug tank top, her blonde hair loosely tied up with a few strands hanging down. She took her spot cross-legged on the living room floor.
Amber came next—hair damp, wearing an oversized vintage tee that practically passed for a dress. She threw herself onto the couch like it owed her money.
Jade showed up last—still in Chris's shirt, now clearly claimed as her own—paired with too-short shorts. She sat down beside the girls, grinning.
The lights inside were dimmed, casting a hazy, golden glow over the room. Beer cans lined the coffee table, and someone was mixing cheap cocktails in a plastic pitcher.
Mason lit a few tealight candles and grinned dramatically. "It's time."
"Alright," one of the older hockey guys said, spinning an empty bottle in the center of the circle. "Let the chaos begin."
It spun lazily, rattling to a stop in front of Amber.
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth," she sighed.
"Did you ever hook up with someone from the team?"
Amber gave a long pause, side-eyed Mason, and finally shrugged. "Not yet."
Laughter erupted as Mason nearly choked on his drink.
Next spin: Claire.
"Truth," she said quickly.
"What was your last boyfriend like?"
Claire looked thoughtful. "Complicated. Fun at first, but... didn't last. Let's say he didn't like how much smarter I was."
A chorus of oooohs circled the room.
Next, it landed on Jade.
"Dare," she declared instantly, flashing a grin.
"I dare you to sit on someone's lap until your next turn."
Jade didn't hesitate. She slid effortlessly into Chris's lap with a flourish and leaned her head back against his shoulder.
Chris blinked but didn't move. "Comfortable?"
"Surprisingly, yeah," she said sweetly.
A few guys in the room twitched with jealousy, watching his nonchalant reaction to the kind of attention they would've killed for.
Next spin: Chris.
"Truth," he said, deadpan.
"What's your type?"
The room leaned in. Even Jade tilted her head slightly to watch his reaction.
Chris looked like he had to think. "I don't really have one."
"Booo."
"Laaame."
"Boring!"
"Okay, okay, fine." Chris sighed. "If I had to choose... I guess I like blonde hair. And, you know... body proportions in the right places."
The room hooted in response.
Next round—Chris again.
"Truth," he said again.
"What happened with your girlfriend last year? You know, the brunette senior?"
Chris shrugged. "Nothing dramatic. She wanted more time together, and I didn't have it. So we stopped. No fights. No drama."
Groans and laughter erupted.
Next spin: Amber.
"Dare," she said, clearly expecting something wild.
Chris jumped in before Mason could.
"I dare you to forgive that useless buffoon over there."
Mason immediately dropped to his knees, hands together like he was praying.
Amber laughed despite herself. "Fine. You're forgiven."
Mason raised his fists in triumph while the others booed.
"Boring!" someone shouted.
"Hey," Mason said, pointing dramatically. "Forgiveness is punk rock."
The bottle spun again as the laughter rose.