Chapter 1: Losing at the drinking game
The bass from the speakers throbbed through the floorboards, a physical pulse in the air thick with spilled beer and sweat. Luke squeezed through the packed kitchen, a warm bottle of something cheap in each hand, his gaze automatically searching for the cascade of auburn curls that belonged to Mia. He found her by the sliding doors, laughing at something Damon said, her head tilted back to expose her throat. Damon’s hand was on the door frame above her, his tall frame leaning in.
A familiar, thin twist of anxiety coiled in Luke’s stomach. It was nothing. Mia was friendly. Everyone loved her.
“There you are,” a voice purred beside him. Ellie materialized from the crowd, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. She plucked one of the bottles from his hand without asking and took a sip, her eyes never leaving his face. “We were just talking about you.”
“Yeah?” Luke tried to match her casual tone, his eyes darting back to Mia. Damon had straightened up, was now talking to someone else. The coil loosened.
“Mhm. About how sweet you are. How… attentive.” Ellie leaned closer, the scent of her vanilla perfume cutting through the beer smell. “But I was wondering. Can you handle her, Luke? Really handle her? Or do you just hold on for the ride?”
He blinked, the bluntness of the question hitting him like a slap. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Mia’s a star. And stars burn bright. They don’t belong to anyone.” Ellie’s smirk widened. She reached out and adjusted the collar of his shirt, a strangely intimate gesture. “Don’t look so worried. I’m just teasing. Come on, we’re starting a game.”
She led him by the elbow into a dimmer, slightly quieter living room. Mia was already there, flopped onto a large, worn sofa, patting the space next to her. Damon sat in an armchair opposite, his long legs stretched out. An expensive-looking laptop was open on the coffee table, some sci-fi movie playing silently, its light casting eerie blue shadows across their faces.
“What game?” Luke asked, settling beside Mia. She immediately nestled into his side, her warmth a comfort.
“A classic,” Ellie said, producing a deck of cards from the back pocket of her jeans with a flourish. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, between the sofa and Damon’s chair. “With a twist. Keeps things interesting.”
Damon’s smile was slow, knowing. “What’s the twist, El?”
“Simple rules. We play rounds. Lowest card each round takes a drink.” Ellie began shuffling, the cards snapping crisply. “But if you lose three rounds… you lose an item of clothing. Makes the stakes a little more… tangible.”
Mia let out a giggle, a sound half-nervous, half-thrilled. “Ellie! That’s wild.”
“It’s just fun. We’re all friends here.” Ellie’s gaze flicked to Luke. “Unless someone’s too shy.”
The challenge hung in the air, mixing with the movie’s flickering light. Luke felt Mia’s body tense slightly against him, waiting for his reaction. Saying no felt childish, like he was confirming Ellie’s taunt that he couldn’t handle things. “I’m not shy,” he said, the words coming out a bit too fast. “Just seems uneven. Mia’s wearing a dress and boots. I’m in jeans, a t-shirt, flannel, shoes. I’ve got layers.”
Damon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Strategic dressing. I respect it. But rules are rules. Unless you’re scared.”
“No one’s scared,” Mia said, sitting up straighter. Her eyes were bright, reflecting the laptop’s glow. “Deal the cards, Ellie.”
The first few rounds were a blur of safe losses. Mia lost one and grimaced at her gulp of warm beer. Damon lost two, drinking without complaint, his eyes watchful. Luke won consistently, the tightness in his chest beginning to ease. It was just a stupid game.
Then Mia drew a two.
“Oh, come on!” she laughed, tossing the card onto the table. That was her third loss. The room got very quiet, the pulsing music from the kitchen feeling suddenly distant.
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “A deal’s a deal, Mia.”
Mia looked at Luke, a playful panic in her eyes. “Which item? It’s a dress, it’s just one thing!”
“The boots count,” Damon said, his voice casual. “Those are definitely an item.”
Mia nudged Luke. “Help me out. Boots or dress?”
He felt his face grow hot. “Uh. Boots, I guess?” Taking off boots seemed less consequential, less intimate.
With an exaggerated sigh, Mia bent forward. The red fabric of her dress pulled tight across her back. She wrestled with the buckle of her first leather boot, then the second, kicking them off to land with a thud near the coffee table. She tucked her now-bare feet underneath her on the couch. “Happy?”
“Thrilled,” Ellie said, dealing again. Her foot, under the table, brushed against Damon’s calf.
The next round, Luke lost. Then lost again. The third loss came quickly, the cards turning against him. The coil of anxiety was back, tighter now. Three losses.
“Looks like it’s your turn, sweetie,” Mia said, rubbing his arm. Her touch felt distant.
Ellie just watched, sipping her drink, saying nothing.
Luke’s mind raced through his inventory. Shoes. Socks. Flannel. T-shirt. Jeans. He slowly untied his sneakers, peeled off his socks. The cool air on his feet felt exposing. The game continued, the dynamic in the room shifting with every card flipped. The movie on the laptop played on, a silent, frantic battle none of them were watching.
Damon lost his next three. He didn’t hesitate, just unbuttoned the cuffs of his dark henley and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. The muscles in his arms and chest were defined, clearly outlined in the blue light. Mia’s gaze lingered for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her cards. Luke saw it.
Then it was Mia again. She groaned as her third losing card of this new set hit the table. “You guys are rigging this!”
“Probability, babe,” Ellie said softly. “So? Dress?”
Mia bit her lip. She looked from Luke to Ellie to Damon, whose expression was unreadable. The energy in the dark room was charged, a live wire. Luke’s gentle “you don’t have to” died in his throat.
“It’s just a game,” Mia murmured, as if to herself. She stood up, the movement graceful. Her hands went to the side zip of her red dress. The sound was loud in the quiet. She shuffled the dress down over her hips, let it pool around her ankles on the floor, and stepped out of it quickly.
She stood there in just her matching lace bra and underwear, the pale skin of her body glowing in the electronic light. She was breathtaking, and the vulnerability in her pose was gone in an instant, replaced by a defiant lift of her chin. “See? No big deal.”
“No big deal at all,” Damon agreed, his voice a low hum.
Luke’s mouth was dry. He felt simultaneously possessive and utterly powerless. This was spinning away from him.
Ellie, who had lost nothing more than a hair tie so far, smiled. “My round to lose, I think.” She deliberately drew a card, revealing a three. She made a show of pouting, then unclasped her delicate gold necklace. “An item’s an item.”
The game was a trap, and they were all in it. Luke lost another set. He shed his flannel shirt. The air felt cool on his arms. Damon lost again, removing his shoes. Mia lost a single round, then another. The next card for her was fateful. Another low card. Her third of the set.
She looked at Luke, her eyes wide and glassy from drink and adrenaline. He saw the conflict there—loyalty warring with a desire not to be the prude, not to ruin the electric vibe Ellie had engineered.
“I…” Mia started.
“We can stop,” Luke said, the words finally breaking free.
“Don’t be a buzzkill, Luke,” Ellie sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s just underwear. We all have it on.”
Damon said nothing, just watched Mia, a predator’s calm patience in his posture.
Mia looked at Ellie’s challenging smirk, at Damon’s silent expectation, and finally at Luke’s pleading concern. The social pressure was a palpable force. Her hands went behind her back.
“Mia, don’t,” Luke said, standing up. His head felt light.
“It’s fine, Luke,” she said, but her voice was thin. The clasp came undone. She let the bra slip from her shoulders and drop to the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Okay? Are we done now?”
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the muted explosions from the laptop.
Ellie broke it with a light, dismissive laugh. “God, you’re all so serious. It’s just a body.” She gathered the cards, the game apparently forgotten. “I need a real drink. Damon, help me find the good stuff?”
Damon stood, his eyes giving Mia one last, lingering sweep before following Ellie out of the living room, leaving Luke and Mia alone in the flickering dark.
Mia shivered, still holding herself. Luke quickly grabbed his discarded flannel shirt and draped it over her shoulders. She pulled it tightly closed.
“That was messed up,” he whispered, his voice raw.
“It was just a game,” Mia repeated, but she was trembling. She wouldn’t look at him.
From the kitchen, they heard Ellie’s distinct laugh, bright and cutting, followed by Damon’s lower murmur. The plan was in motion. Luke stared at the doorway, a cold certainty settling in his gut. This wasn't over.
“I’ll… I’ll get us some water,” he said, needing to move, to do something. He touched Mia’s arm, but she felt miles away.
The kitchen was a swamp of heat and noise. Luke filled two plastic cups with tepid water from the tap, his hands trembling. The image of Mia, arms crossed over her chest in his flannel, was a loop he couldn’t stop.
He pushed back into the living room. Mia was right where he’d left her, but she’d put her dress back on. The boots were still off. She’d found another beer and was sipping it slowly, staring blankly at the silent, flashing laptop.
“Here,” he said, handing her a cup.
She took it, their fingers brushing. “Thanks.”
They drank. The water tasted like chlorine.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not looking at him. “That was so stupid. I just… I didn’t want to be the one who ruined the fun.”
“Ellie ruined the fun,” Luke said, his voice tight. “She engineered that. Damon was in on it. I saw them.”
Mia finally met his eyes. Her were brimming. “Why? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. Because they’re shitty people? Because they get off on it?” He sat beside her, not touching. The gulf between them felt physical. “We should go.”
“In a minute,” she murmured, leaning her head back. “My head is spinning. Just… talk to me for a minute. About something normal.”
So he did. He talked about his stupid internship, about a movie he wanted to see, about anything that wasn’t this room, this night. She listened, her eyes closed, a small, forced smile on her lips. They passed the water cup back and forth. The alcohol in their systems, a delayed reaction from the tension, began to truly hum. The sharp edges of humiliation and anger blurred into a heavy, drunk fog. His words started to slur. Her laughter, when it came, was loose and a little too loud.
“You’re so sweet, Luke,” she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. The flannel shirt was rough against her cheek. “You’re, like, genuinely good. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird,” he mumbled, leaning into her.
“It is a little. In a good way.”
The bedroom door swung open hard, bouncing off the wall. Ellie stood there, silhouetted by the hallway light, a bottle of amber liquor dangling from her fingers. Her makeup was slightly smudged, her eyes glittering.
“There you two are! Hiding!” she announced, her voice a dramatic stage whisper. She stumbled into the room and plopped down on the coffee table, right in front of them, ignoring the laptop. The scent of whiskey wafted from her.
“We’re not hiding,” Luke said flatly.
“Mmm, sure.” Ellie ignored him, her focus laser-locked on Mia. “God, Mia. You are so fucking beautiful. Like, it’s actually unfair.” She reached out and clumsily tucked a strand of Mia’s hair behind her ear. “That dress? On you? Jesus. And earlier… fucking stunning. You have, like, a goddess body. Doesn’t she, Luke?”
Mia giggled, the compliment melting into her drunk haze. “Stop it, Ellie.”
“I won’t. It’s true.” Ellie took a swig from the bottle, then her gaze slid to Luke. The playful warmth vanished, replaced by a predatory sharpness. “But you, Luke. Sweet little Luke.” She leaned forward. “There’s no way you can pleasure her. No fucking way. A girl like her needs… more. You know?”
Luke’s whole body went cold. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ellie’s smile was all teeth. “I’m just saying. It’s a matter of… capacity. Enthusiasm’s great, but it only gets you so far.” Her eyes glazed over, as if recalling a specific memory. “Now, Damon… fuck. Damon has a big black cock. I mean, a real one. Thick. Like, seriously thick. And the way he uses it…" She let out a low whistle, shaking her head with faux reverence. "It's not just fucking. It's an event. He wrecks you. In the best way. Makes you see stars, forget your own name. He knows exactly what to do with it. The stamina? Unreal."
Mia was staring, her mouth slightly agape. She wasn’t laughing anymore. She was listening, utterly captivated, a faint blush spreading across her chest.
Ellie saw it. She pressed on, her voice a conspiratorial purr aimed directly at Mia. "It's a different league, babe. Once you've had that, everything else just feels… polite."
The words hung in the air, vile and potent. Luke felt sick. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Mia suddenly seemed to remember he was there. She blinked, tearing her gaze from Ellie’s smirk. She looked at Luke’s pale, stricken face and a wave of guilty affection seemed to wash over her. She nudged him with her shoulder, a weak, drunken tease. “Don’t look so worried. She’s just being Ellie. You don’t need a monster dick to be good.” Her tone was light, but the earlier image, Damon's shirtless confidence, Ellie's graphic description, had been planted.
She then wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. She smelled like beer and perfume and sweat. “I love you, you know that? I love you. You’re my guy.” The words were thick, sincere but blurred by alcohol, an attempt to pav over the crater Ellie had just blasted between them.
Luke hugged her back, his arms tight around her. He held onto the girl in the red dress, the words ‘big black cock’ echoing in the silent chambers of his mind, a taunt that had now, irrevocably, been shared with the one person he never wanted to hear it. Over Mia’s shoulder, he saw Ellie watching them, a small, satisfied smile curling her lips as she took another long, victorious pull from the bottle.