69. Lydia
Lydia
Greek game night looks like pure chaos. It’s fun and a hot mess and wild in a way that I don’t need alcohol to enjoy. It’s exactly what I need.
We walk through the front door of the Sig house, and it’s all string lights, folding tables, and someone yelling about whether Uno stacks are legal.
Simone gets taken away immediately—hugged six times in a row by girls in coordinated tees and boys in Polos.
Lani and I drift toward the kitchen island, and Sandro walks over like he owns every room he enters, or just never caring who else is in it. He hugs his sister and then hugs me.
Mason appears not long after. He smells like cologne and a little bit of pre-gaming beer.
“Ladies,” he says, but I’m too busy scanning nearby for another tall boy to say anything back to him.
I assumed wherever Mason was, Bash might not be far behind. It’s almost autopilot at this point that I look for Bash in every room now. I don’t know how healthy that is…but it always feels good when I find him in one.
Mason’s eyes cut to me, and there’s a knowing tilt to his smile.
He leans in so only I can hear him. “He went on an ice run for me. Didn’t want to go until you got here, but I begged and batted my lashes, and he couldn’t help but give in.”
“I—” I start, trying to act like I don’t know what he’s talking about.
Mason zips his lips between two fingers and winks. “He should be back any minute, don’t worry,” and then he pivots to yell across the room about where to plug in the Nintendo.
Simone is bossing all the frat boys around, Mason by her side, backing her up, and Lani is talking to her brother while stealing any snacks people have walking by.
I try to busy myself or let myself be roped into some of the random conversations going on, but my eyes still linger around the room until the door opens and I can feel him before I see him—my new favorite person.
There’s another guy behind him—his roommate, I think—helping him bring in way too many bags of ice and more snacks.
I watch as Bash has that hard, serious face on that he normally wears around everyone.
His eyes sweep the room and then land on mine, softening his face instantly.
The boy-scowl is quickly replaced with a grin.
I can’t stop the butterflies from going feral in my stomach.
He drops the ice with Mason and says something to him I don’t make out because he’s already walking toward me.
Simone and Lani are mid-story with Sandro when he reaches us.
He gives me a quick side hug, and the jolt I get from his arm around my shoulders is embarrassingly immediate.
He daps Sandro up like my overdose made them bros for life, and I roll my eyes playfully when Sandro pretends to try to kiss him, and Bash shoves him, laughing.
Sandro and Lani are really the same person in two different fonts.
It makes me wonder if their other sister is just like them, too.
Lani stops talking mid-sentence and grins. Simone elbows her with zero subtlety. They’re both the human embodiment of two thirteen-year-old little girls squealing right now.
I swat at them. “Be normal,” I mutter, trying and failing not to laugh.
“Simone and Lani—you know Bash…my…friend,” I introduce. “And Bash, this is—”
“Hey, I’m Lani,” Lani cuts in, sticking her hand out with too much excitement. She points at Simone. “Our last introduction wasn’t at the best of times, but you remember Simone. And you obviously know our girl Lydia,” she winks. “They call us the PPP.”
“Please stop trying to make that a thing,” I groan. “It’s weird.”
Simone deadpans at Lani, “And you’re the only one who calls us that. So who is ‘they’?”
“They…me,” Lani says, unbothered. “Same thing.”
Bash plays along, biting back a smile. “Do I want to know what it stands for?”
I shake my head. “No—”
Lani tosses her hair back, almost hitting a guy in the face who’s walking by. She doesn’t even miss a beat. “Pretty, Petty, and Poison.”
Bash laughs. “Okay. Let me guess who is who.”
“You really don’t have to,” I warn, pointing at him. “Don’t encourage her.”
He points at Simone. “Pretty?”
“Rude,” I scoff. “What if I was Pretty?”
His eyes flick to me. “You’re beautiful,” he says with the smallest, sexiest wink, and the butterflies stir back up in full force. “But trust me—I know which one you are. And she,” he nods to Simone, “gives very girly, fluffy, acts-like-a-princess vibes.”
I narrow my eyes at him to cover the blush creeping up.
Simone props her chin on her hands and bats her lashes. “I accept that answer.”
Bash turns to Lani. “Definitely Petty. It’s written all over you. You’re the feisty one who keeps everyone in line. You’ve probably tried to fight a couple of guys before, too.”
Lani looks pleased. “Yeah, he gets it.”
He turns to me slowly and tries to give me a serious face, but the smirk still fights through. It’s a dangerous smirk.
“Poison,” he says, nodding his head at me. It’s so casual and smooth, I hate it.
I don’t, actually.
“Why am I Poison?” I ask with both hands on my hips.
He shifts closer, smile tilting into something darker. “Because one hit…and it’s over,” he says low enough that it’s supposed to be just for me. “You get in their bloodstream, and there’s no antidote…not that I’d be looking for one.”
Lani squeals, being way too nosy, and Simone grabs her arm, shaking it, trying to hide what they just heard like little schoolgirls.
I’m still stuck in a dangerous stare with Bash, neither of us moving or breaking it.
“Don’t pay attention to them,” I tell him.
He just laughs, not breaking eye contact, and shrugs. “I like them.”
“Who else do you like?” Lani says from beside us, teasingly.
I swat at her, then look to Sandro for help with controlling his sister. He just puts his hands up and laughs.
No help.
Bash gestures to the guy walking over, who came in with him. “I know y’all haven’t officially met yet, so Lydia, this is Erik,” he says. “My roommate and best friend.”
I watch as Lani turns to Simone, placing her back to Erik. Sandro also immediately walks away when he looks and sees him.
What kind of family feud do these people have?
Erik presses his hands to his cheeks and fake-squeals just like the girls. “He never calls me his friend in public,” he stage-whispers. “Sorry, this is a big moment.”
I lean toward Bash. “Looks like we have the same friends in different fonts.”
He laughs and leans in too.
I realize my hand is on his arm and snatch it back like I touched a hot stove. His bicep is toned and solid, and my body does that very unhelpful flood-of-heat thing.
He dips his head and says into my ear, “I like your touch.”
A shiver runs down my spine so fast it’s embarrassing. I pretend to scan the room, avoiding his eye contact now. “Simone,” I yell, “are we playing or what?”
We fall into every game with this easy rhythm.
Bouncing from house to house. Bash is obnoxiously good at everything in a sexy kind of way.
There’s a streak of competitiveness in him that is…
highly attractive and somehow not annoying.
He wants to win, but he wants us to have fun more.
Erik is just as competitive, and they go at it like brothers.
Lani seems to take every chance to make a jab at Erik without ever actually talking to him.
Watching Erik watch Lani throughout the night tells me they have two very different feelings towards each other.
It makes my curiosity that much stronger.
I need to get more information out of her about their past. Bash doesn’t even know much.
Apparently, Erik won’t talk about what happened between them, only that there’s a lot he wishes he would’ve done differently.
He looks like a love-sick puppy around her, and she looks like she wants to bite his head off.
Bash and I slide into this easy, charged orbit together all night.
He bumps my shoulder and laughs when I talk trash him.
I tie his team’s bandanna around his forearm because he can’t do it one-handed.
He murmurs “nice” when I answer something right that nobody expected me to know during trivia.
And the wall that’s been between us feels like it lowers more and more through the night, and we both pretend it hasn’t moved while we step right over it.
Somewhere between Uno and karaoke, the room starts to tilt toward sloppy.
Not our style; our safe space is sober people with snacks and the kind of loud that ends in laughter instead of passing out somewhere random.
But the rest of the house is doing Friday the way Friday likes to be done.
When you’re sober, the night ends earlier, the flashing lights get annoying, and the noise gets less cute.
While everyone else is talking and cleaning up behind all the drunk kids, I slip out onto the front porch with Bash.
It’s getting colder in the evenings now, and I’m only wearing a short dress…
because I figured cute over comfort like a dummy.
It’s like Bash can see the goosebumps on my arms, because without saying anything, he tugs off his jacket and throws it over my shoulders.
It’s warm and smells like him, and it hits all my senses in the most euphoric way.
“I had a good time tonight,” he tells me, with a smile.
“Me too. A lot more fun than studying,” I tell him.
“I don’t really mind what I’m doing when you’re around, honestly.”
He says it so casually, and it makes me feel a little giddy.
We’re close, so close. He could easily lean down and kiss me right now.
Do I want him to kiss me? Fuck, I think I do. Yeah…I really do.
The moment thickens. He looks down at my mouth and then back at my eyes. Just as I think he’s about to make the move—
“Hey,” Simone shouts, popping her head out, hands holding onto the doorframe.
I turn quickly, like I just got caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Huh?” I answer her with a shake in my voice that probably gives me away.