Carter and Hazel tossed a ping-pong ball between them in the water, speaking too low for me to hear, like they were exchanging secret ideas about how best to beat us. Tumbling around with Hazel under my nose at the game was one thing; it was another for him to act all lovey-dovey right in front of my salad. He didn't have it in him to be that callous. Right? Hazel, though? She was an unknown factor. The only thing I knew about Rosie and Hazel's breakup was that Hazel cheated. That didn't give her a glowing ex recommendation. 

The creaking platform alerted our competitors to us. They edged apart as I dropped my jacket and jeans onto the platform. Carter, dressed in navy trunks, sported damp curls that clung to his forehead. Hazel wore a striking red one-piece suit. They both looked prepared, unlike me and my beer pong partner, who were about to dip into the freezing water in nothing but our lucky-dip underwear. At least mine were boring and black. Rosie had a whole sparkly unicorn plastered across her butt.

I lowered myself into the water and waded toward the raft after Rosie, goosebumps pricking my skin, hunched over like a gremlin. All the while, Rosie had the upper body of a mermaid with shiny dripping hair, and her lower half obscured from view. 

Let the games begin.

"Nice get-up, ladies," Hazel said, tossing a ping-pong up and down. "So, first things first, Rose, getting pressured into drinking? Lame. Don't let this girl bully you into it."

"This was my idea," Rosie lied.

"That's what you said about letting Dot be captain, and look how that turned out," Hazel said, giving Rosie a pointed look.

Clearly, Hazel held a grudge against Dorothy for the prank Rosie had told me about earlier. What did Hazel expect? For Dorothy to not retaliate after she cheated on her sister? Whether or not Hazel liked it, they'd won every game against us with Dorothy as their captain. How they fared in Seattle was another matter. They'd posted about jacuzzis, bougee mocktails and room service every year, but never any trophies. Did they really care, though?

Hazel's biased take on Dorothy's leadership aside, the thought of Rosie letting me bully her was hilarious.

"Whatever," Hazel continued. "Not my problem anymore. Let's get this show on the road then, shall we? Us versus you two. Here are the rules. One turn each. You toss the ball into a cup. The other team drinks. You miss? You drink. Simple."

"Let's make this interesting," I said, not liking how she took charge. The whole point in this was that we had control, not them. "You land a shot; you get to ask a question. And—"

Rosie finished, "—if you refuse to answer, you drink."

"I'm game. Why don't you go first, Rose?" Hazel asked. "I'm so curious about what you want to know so bad that you'd drink."

The fire in Rosie's eyes burned bright, shining with the reflection of the fairy lights. One blink—and a ping-pong landed in one of their cups with a soft plop. Impressive. She pushed her shoulders back, chin held high. "What makes a person cheat?"

Hazel placed her hand over her heart and drawled, "Color me shocked. I'm not a spokesperson for cheaters, but I'll give it a whirl. Context matters. Like, why are they doing it in the first place? What led them there? What's so wrong in the relationship that it got to that point? It's all so... individualistic."

Rosie's face pinched. "You're not going to answer?"

"Nothing justifies it. They're weak-willed, or insecure," Hazel said. "Nothing more. Nothing less."

Hazel's answer sucked for Rosie, sure, but how Carter's throat bobbed up and down? Priceless. I didn't even need to say a word. His own partner in crime insulted him. Getting drunk and playing beer pong in a cold ass lake in my underwear wasn't my idea of fun, but this wasn't the worst idea in the world.

Rosie's warmth radiating from her body snapped me back to reality. She said nothing, shoulders slumping in a way that spoke louder than words. 

I broke the strained silence by tossing a ping-pong, but it barely made it past our side of the raft. When I reached for my beer, my hand slipped into the water—though, in my defense, the raft had drifted. Or maybe my head spun? Could you even get sea legs on a lake? Either way, Rosie took pity on me, handing over the cup so I could down it while Carter grabbed a ping-pong.

Before I knew it, a ball bobbed in one of our cups.

"You know what's coming, Kate," Carter said, hands rubbing together. "You almost stabbed me with your paintbrush when I tried to hold your hand that one time—but if you had to pick, what do you think your love language is?"

He laughed like it was an inside joke. The surrounding water turned to lava, boiling my blood. Because he hid his true feelings so well. Too well. You wouldn't know he resented me. I obviously hadn't been enough. When did he decide I wasn't? Why did he ask the most him question he could, like he cared about connecting with me? This was my own damn fault. I shouldn't have accepted that first date with him. He'd said all the right things—'no pressure, no rush, we have all the time in the world.' Lies. All of it. At some point, he started the clock and apparently, it stopped ticking. 

"Affirmations," I said. "Honest ones. Not just telling me what I want to hear."

"Good to know," Carter muttered, face flushed, motioning to his partner to take her turn. 

Hazel took the hint, tossing her ping-pong in a cup with ease. Her elbows rested on the raft as she cupped her cheeks in the palms of her hands before asking, "Who was the last person you kissed, Rose?"

This was it; this was the decider of the game.

Rosie opened and closed her mouth, hesitation clear. The longer she remained silent, the tighter Hazel's arms locked around her stomach. I could almost feel the tension coiling in Hazel's abdomen. Just as Hazel was about to snap, Rosie grabbed the cup, her eyes screwed shut; determined, if a little slow to drink. She shouldn't force herself to drink because of a stupid game I roped her into. 

Her face told me all I needed to know.

I snatched the cup from her and chugged. She didn't protest, too caught up in her staring match with her ex. The unanswered question lingered in the air, tension growing thicker by the second. Hazel's wet, slicked-back bob accentuated her sharp, feline-like eyes stuck to Rosie.

"We've got a rule breaker on our hands, huh?" A Cheshire cat grin spread across Hazel's face. "You know what? I'll let it pass. Thanks for the games, ladies. It's been an enlightening experience."

"That's our cue," I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"You didn't have to do that," Rosie whispered, voice strained.

"Yeah, I really did," I said, wading out of the water without so much as a glance back.

The outfits we left on the deck were missing, all except for my father's hoodie. Izzy had already sent in the troops to steal the lake-goers' clothes, so it must've been almost time to leave. I stumbled away from the shoreline, heading for Eduardo's truck—only to yank the handle and find it locked. Right. Totally knew that. 

There were three options. One, go sit on the lounge chair in my underwear until Izzy found me. Two, find a dark spot in the woods and hope no one came up behind me while I stripped and changed. Or three, change in the truck's bed and try my best not to flash anyone. My body shifted back and forth despite being propped up by the vehicle, giving me no choice. It may have taken me a few tries to get onto the truck's bed, banging my knee against the vehicle a few times too, but I got there.

You know that feeling when taking off a (wrong-sized) bra after a stupid wire dug into your skin all day long? That blissful relief wouldn't come close to taking off the soggy lake-water infested bra that made my boobs feel like ten pounds of fish. Someone cleared their throat right as I undid the clasp. I scooted around to face Rosie, who stopped at the end of the truck, still in her unicorn underwear. When did she get there?

She eyed my dad's snug hoodie by my side; that I planned on wearing to cover up the fact that I'd soon be braless.

"It's kinda rude to come to a birthday empty-handed. Luckily for you, that hoodie is a perfect temporary gift—loan—whatever," she said, offering me her thermal mug. My mouth watered, but I refused. "Come on, don't make me beg. Be nice."

"Tried that once already tonight, and it didn't work out," I said, dangling my legs off the truck's edge. 

"I never asked you to drink for me."

"Not that. We never would've played against them if I didn't come back," I muttered.

"It wasn't about the game, Kate. Didn't you see Carter's face? You hit a nerve. The only one of us that looked like they cared about them was me." Her chin dipped down, and her gaze lingered on her fidgeting fingers. "I asked her the most obvious question while you were cool as a cucumber. Then I chickened out at her question. I would've had to admit she was the last person I kissed, and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing. But it was pretty obvious, huh?"

I sighed. "You really do care too much."

"And you're kind of scary."

"How?"

Her lips parted, the answer resting on the tip of her tongue. She leaned toward me, standing between my legs, and with a softened tone, she said, "It's your eyes. One second, they were full of rage, and then suddenly...nothing. Like a switch flipped. How do you do that?"

"I don't know," I breathed out, keenly aware of my thighs pressing against her hips. "The alternative is more depressing."

"Yeah...or maybe you're just too drunk to care."

The night blurred at the edges, the lake stretching wide and endless, stars smearing across the sky like someone had dragged a hand through them. The only thing clear were her eyes, dark with pupils so blown you could only see black. Maybe it was the beers that made me lean in or the potential hypothermia craving that extra warmth. Either way, the heat pooled low in my abdomen, a slow, syrupy pull, pushed my body where it wanted. I ended up with my cheek against her shoulder, eyes slipping shut, breath evening out before I could think better of it.

The warmth of a Pumpkin Champurrado river enveloped me as she murmured beside my ear, "So drunk."

Hooting followed by splashing of water drew me out of my stupor. Someone who sounded a lot like Izzy screeched like a hyena.

Rosie left my personal space, brushing her hands over her stomach, as if swatting away the butterflies. "I thought we weren't forming a cheater hater club."

"This was a one-off meeting, I said.

"This doesn't mean we're friends or anything."

"Exactly."

"As you're not friend, can I borrow your hoodie now?" she asked.

Her arms wrapped around her middle, flinching as a water droplet from her hair fell onto her shoulder. The bitter pout on her face said it all. She expected a firm 'no.' It'd gotten dark as the night went on. Everyone else was happy in their t-shirts and shorts, but for us, it was different. Staying in our wet underwear doused us in a chill we couldn't get rid of. She looked helpless.

"Fine, Twilight Sparkle," I agreed, snatching her cup, because hey, a trade was a trade. 

A series of loud cracks pierced the air before that could happen. No fireworks shot into the sky like everyone expected. The noise came from the tree line. A sudden blue and red light flashed from the woods. A shout that said, "It's the police," made everybody at the lake scramble either to their cars or race toward the woods to hide, and the drunk or stupid, or both, dove into the water. The Dragons tore their way out of the trees amid the chaos to Eduardo's truck and Dan's jeep. Half of the team carried black plastic bags.

"We've got to go!" Izzy said, fiddling with keys by the driver's side of the truck.

"Slow down. Have you been drinking?" I asked.

"That would make me a pretty bad designated getaway driver," she said, before slamming the door shut and reversing.

"Wait! You're going to leave me high and dry? Like this?!" Rosie yelled after us, moving to the side so Izzy didn't flatten her like a pancake.

I flung dad's hoodie out of the moving vehicle and called back, "More like low and wet!"

Izzy opened the sliding rear window and ushered for me to climb through. I grabbed the thermal cup first. 

"Beer pong? Seriously, Kate?" Izzy said as soon as I settled into the passenger seat. "You hate drinking games. What happened to them being like 'pointless carnival game rigged against you?'"

I buckled up. "I stand by that. There's no incentive to win."

"You had one job."

"So, you stole my clothes as punishment?"

"Hey, I left your dad's hoodie—not my fault you tossed it out of the truck," Izzy said, throwing a red and blue siren behind her into the truck's bed. 

We sped off into the darkness of the trail. I sipped on the Pumpkin Champurrado as lanterns lights flashed across my face. Rosie was wrong. A flip never switched inside me. An undercurrent of rage pulsed in my veins. 

With no one to stop me this time, I sent Carter my drafted message.