“You any good?”
“Please,” she said, mock-offended. “I have two older brothers. I’m great.”
I laughed and let her pull me through the crowd toward the back door.
***
The deck was huge—probably the reason this frat threw the best parties. String lights crisscrossed overhead, half of them flickering, casting uneven light across four beer pong tables set up in a bracket formation. A whiteboard propped against the railing showed team matchups, already half-filled with names.
Groups clustered around each table, cheering and trash-talking. Someone had dragged out speakers, and music thumped through the night air. The temperature had dropped, but between the bodies and the alcohol, nobody seemed to care.
“Yo, Liam!” Remy appeared out of the crowd, Evan trailing behind him. “You playing or just watching?”
“We’re in,” Emily said before I could answer.
Remy’s grin sharpened. “Perfect. You’re playing us first round.”
I looked at Evan, then back at Remy. “You sure you want that?”
“Oh, I’m sure. Somebody’s gotta take down the hero of the day.”
We took our positions at one of the tables—me and Emily on one side, Remy and Evan on the other. Someone from the frat filled the cups, and a small crowd began to gather.
“You know the rules?” Remy asked, rolling a ping pong ball between his fingers.
“Elbow behind the table, no leaning, first team to clear wins,” Emily rattled off. “I know the rules.”
“Damn,” Evan said, looking impressed. “We might be in trouble.”
“You are,” Emily said sweetly.
I loved this side of her—confident, playful, fully in her element. She lined up the first shot, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, and sank it clean.
The crowd erupted and I pulled Emily into a quick side-hug. “That’s my girl.”
Remy fished out the ball, unimpressed. “Lucky shot.”
“Sure,” Emily said. “Lucky.”
I went next, bouncing the ball once before it plopped into the front cup. More cheers. Evan groaned and drank two.
“Captain material on and off the water,” Remy said.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Yet,” Remy said pointedly. He lined up his shot, called it—“back right”—and nailed it. Of course he did.
I drank. The beer was warm and awful, but I didn’t care.
The game moved fast. Evan got one in, I matched him. Emily sank two in a row, and the crowd around us grew bigger and louder, people drawn by the energy.
Noah appeared behind me and Emily. “Winning all day, huh?”
“You know it,” I said.
“Come on, Remy!” someone from the Riverside crew shouted. “Don’t let them sweep you!”
“I’m trying!” Remy yelled back, missing his next shot. “Working with limited tools here!”
