by T. K. Leigh
For the first time, I finally relax and stop trying to live up to everyone’s expectations of me. I dance with guys from our school who never noticed me before. Now they do, and I like the attention. For someone who’s constantly lived in the shadows, who’s been known as the awkward, tall girl, the attention from some of the most popular boys in school is all the validation I need. And the alcohol makes me not care about the fact that this validation may come at a heavy price.
Molly stays close by for a while, dancing, but keeping a watchful eye on me, considering I’m usually not the type to act like this. Maybe that’s the old Brooklyn. Maybe it’s time I finally experience life, as Molly always does. I look at her as she smiles up at Brody. She looks happy. I want that, too.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I say after a while, able to sense they both want to take advantage of the fact that Brody’s parents are out of town, their dancing having become more sensual. “I’m fine on my own.”
Molly narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?
“Of course,” I respond, pressing my hand against her bicep. “I’m having a blast.” I pull my hair up, perspiration dotting my hairline from the heat of dozens of dancing bodies in such a small area. “You guys should go have some fun, too, if you know what I mean.” I waggle my eyebrows.
Molly appears uneasy about the prospect, so I grab both of their hands and pull them toward the staircase. “Go. Get your freak on.” Before she can say anything else, I whirl around, disappearing back into the crowd. I’m jostled around a bit, but I move with them, throwing my hands up and singing along to the music.
I’m so lost in the atmosphere, shouting the lyrics to some song about sunshine, I’m taken by surprise when I feel a warmth on my neck, followed by a voice saying, “Care to dance?”
A hand lands on my lower back, yanking me against a firm body. Gasping, I fling my eyes open, staring at Damian. I haven’t spoken to him since the incident at the beach. The few times he’s gone to the movies, he made sure to approach a different usher to buy his tickets, as if purposefully avoiding me.
“Not worried about another broken nose?” I quip.
He slowly shakes his head. “Drew’s leaving for college tomorrow. I’m a free man.”
I push away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not quite. It’s not tomorrow yet, is it?”
He purses his lips. “Good observation.” He looks around the living room. “But I don’t see him here, do you?”
“He’s not coming.” I swallow down my disappointment.
“Then perhaps we can pick up where we left off back in June before we were so rudely interrupted.”
If I hadn’t been drinking, I’d probably knee him in the groin and tell him I’m not interested, just as I’d been telling him when Drew took matters into his own hands and punched him. That was before this summer happened. If Drew can get a blowjob in a movie theater and take his “girlfriend” up to the overlook to get laid, I can flirt with Damian.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, chewing on my lower lip. I’ve seen Molly do this and guys seem to like it.
“I have an idea.”
He grabs my hand, dragging me through the crowd and down a set of stairs leading to a partially finished basement. The lighting is much more subdued than upstairs. I begin to regret being so bold, a chill trickling down my spine. But isn’t this what guys like, what they expect? If I don’t up my game, I’ll never be kissed. And I really want to be kissed. I no longer care about giving my first kiss to someone special. I just want to be kissed so I no longer feel like a leper.
My eyes fall on a small circular table, a half-dozen people sitting around it. Damian places his hand on my lower back, leading me toward one of the empty chairs.
I look at the cards strewn on the surface. “Uno? Really? What are we? Ten?”
“It’s not regular Uno,” Damian says, holding my chair out for me and helping me sit down. He can’t be all that bad if he does that, right? Drew holds my chair out for me all the time. I view it as a chivalrous gesture.
“Then what kind of Uno is it?”
“We add some different rules,” one of the girls at the table says. Her name’s Elizabeth, a senior and this year’s cheer captain. These are not my people, but maybe they can be. “Like, we still do what the cards say and all that, but if certain cards are played and it’s your turn, you have to drink.”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “I think I’ve already had enough to drink. I’m trying to sober up so my dad doesn’t ground me for life.”
Damian and one of the other basketball players…I think his name is Allen…give each other a look. He’s tall, blond, and popular. “Then maybe we can take things to the next level.”
“The next level?” I swallow hard.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth says, smiling coyly at a redhead named Catherine and a brunette named Gretchen. I take stock of the people sitting around me. It appears they’re all coupled up, leaving just Damian and me.
I look at him, my heart thumping in my chest.
“Strip Uno.”
“Strip Uno?” The second those words leave my mouth, it grows dry.
“Yeah.” His tongue darts out as he leans closer to me, his gaze seeming to undress me without a single card being played. “Similar to regular Uno, with a few changes.”
“Like what?”
“Well, if you have to draw from the pile, either because of a card played or because you don’t have anything in your hand that’s playable, you lose an article of clothing,” Allen offers. When everyone nods in agreement, I gather this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.
“What else?”
“Same if you get skipped, which includes someone throwing down a skip card or a reverse card. So if a reverse card is played and it’s supposed to be your turn but reverses direction, you lose an article of clothing. Pretty much anytime you’re skipped or have to draw cards, you strip.”
“But there are times you get to put clothes back on,” Catherine states in a nasally voice. “Like if you play a wild card or a draw four. If you play a draw four, you get to put on an article of clothing, but the person you play it on loses one. Here’s the real kicker. If a draw four is played on you, that person gets to choose what article of clothing you lose. If you win a round, you get to put all your clothes back on, while everyone else has to stay as they are. It’s a really fun game.”
“What happens if you run out of clothes to take off?” I ask.
“We come up with…other ways of making you satisfy your debt,” Lucas says, his eyes narrowing in on my chest.
“Come on,” Damian encourages, his breath hot on my neck. “You’re a smart girl. This game is all strategy. I’ve been playing all summer and have yet to end up completely naked. What’s keeping you from having a little fun?”
I meet his eyes, about to tell him who is preventing me from doing this. Then I remember he’s getting laid right now after almost kissing me. Fuck him. If I want to play Strip Uno, I’m going to play Strip Uno. Starting tomorrow, he won’t be a part of my life. It’s time I do what I want.
I turn my attention back to this group of people I never would have considered friends before, but maybe this will show them I’m not some innocent little girl who needs her best friend’s brother to watch out for her. I can take care of myself. And I’m about to prove it.
“Deal the cards.”
Whistles and hollers sound around the table as Damian reaches for the deck and shuffles it before distributing seven cards to each of us. When he places the draw pile in the center of the table, he pauses before flipping over the top card. His eyes shift to mine, a devious grin on his face. Time seems to stand still as I keep my gaze glued to that card, knowing it’ll be for me. When he finally flips it over, I breathe a sigh of relief. Blue four. Grinning, I place a blue seven on top of it, deciding to play it safe for the time being.
As the game goes on, my confidence builds. Thankfully, I’m dressed approp
riately for this game. Two flip-flops. One skirt. One cardigan. One tank top. One bra. One pair of panties. I have to draw or be skipped three times before things get a little risqué. Five times before I have to show some serious skin. I’ve got this.
Ten minutes into the game, I’ve only lost one flip-flop, while some of the guys are down to their boxers. Catherine’s tied with me, having only lost one article of clothing, but she chose to take off her shirt instead of a shoe.
Damian plays a yellow nine and I look at him, giving him a smile. I get the feeling he’s taking it easy on me, and I’m grateful to him for that. Turning my attention to my cards, my shoulders fall when I see I don’t have one to play.
With a sigh, I reach for the draw pile.
“Oooooh,” everyone at the table taunts as I pull cards until I get one I can play, adding three to my hand.
“Not a big deal,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve still got one flip-flop.” I slip it off and hold it up for everyone to see, then toss it onto the pile of clothes.
“What’s it going to take to convince you to lose the tank?” Damian asks.
I give him a sly smile. “A draw four card.”
The table erupts in laughter, the guys clapping. “I like this one,” Lucas states. “She’s got some fight to her.”
I’m not sure what to make of his statement. If I hadn’t been drinking, I may have analyzed it a little more, but the effects of the alcohol have tossed my inhibitions out the window, which also helps me not care when Damian plays his next card, a skip, forcing me to remove my cardigan. Thankfully, this round soon comes to an end with Catherine winning and being able to put her clothes back on. However, she seems a little downtrodden at the idea.
I deal the next round, hoping to get some draw fours or wild cards so I can put some clothes back on, but I don’t. I’m at Damian’s mercy to take it easy on me. My first few turns are uneventful, then he plays a reverse.
Standing, I look down at my body. Since we’re sitting, it makes sense to lose the skirt first. I meet Damian’s eyes, which seem to be glued to my every move. No one’s ever looked at me the way he is right now. It’s primal, animalistic, predatory. That voice inside my head is back, cautioning me.
Instead of listening, I reach for Damian’s half-full beer and practically guzzle it down. Then I slowly untie the drawstring of my linen skirt, reveling in the attention from the four guys at the table. Their gazes are intense, glued to my every move. When I leisurely allow the skirt to fall to my feet, I’m met with whistles of appreciation.
“Damn, baby…” Damian grips my hip. It catches me by surprise and I jump. “You have killer legs.” He leans closer, his mouth lingering near my belly button as he remains sitting. “Why don’t we call this game a wash and find somewhere private where you can wrap those legs around me?”
Anxiety washes over me at his words. I want to grab my clothes, dart up the stairs, and never look back. Isn’t this what guys want? Isn’t this why Drew has never kissed me? Why he took Mindy to the overlook instead of me? He’s barely laid a hand on me all summer…until earlier today. It’s obvious he doesn’t think I’m the type of girl to do these sorts of things with him. Maybe it’s time I prove I am.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” I place my hand on Damian’s naked chest. He’s not nearly as built as Drew, but his slender frame does have some muscle on it, mirroring that of a typical basketball player. “Then I wouldn’t be able to brag about how you lost to me, how I got you naked.” I step out of his hold, not letting him see my relief when his hand no longer scalds my flesh. “Now, where were we? Oh, of course.” I lean toward him, my lips hovering close to his neck. “Your turn.”
He’s speechless for a moment, then snaps out of his stupor, playing a card. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him adjust himself in his shorts. The knowledge that he’s excited just by seeing something as innocent as my legs gives me a boost of confidence, making me continue down this path instead of retreat.
The next few turns are pretty uneventful for me. That’s not the case for Elizabeth. She’s now down to nothing but a pair of panties, and my discomfort has grown. I try not to let it show. These are some of the most popular people at school. Molly’s always been a great friend, but she’s been so preoccupied with Brody lately. Maybe this can be my new circle of friends.
Damian plays a card, and I’m grateful it’s not a skip or draw. Regardless, I’m still not out of the woods. As I look at my hand, I see my luck has run out. With a smirk, I stand, reaching for the bottom of my tank.
“Holy shit!” Samuel shouts as I pull it over my head. I’m met with louder whistles than when I removed my skirt. I’ve spent the summer on the beach wearing a bikini. This shouldn’t feel any different than that. But it does. I feel ashamed, like I’m selling my body just so people will like me.
As I pretend to bask in the catcalls and cheers, I can’t help but wonder what my mother would think if she were still alive. She’d probably tell me I don’t need to do something I’m uncomfortable with just to fit in. That real friends would never put me in this kind of compromising position. She’s right, but instead of listening to her, I grab the beer that’s miraculously appeared in front of me and drink it, hoping it helps with the anxiety. It does, a little.
I’m on edge throughout everyone’s next turn, unable to ignore the heated stare coming from Damian as his eyes seem to be glued to my chest. It makes me feel like a piece of meat. At first, I liked the attention. Now, I’m on the brink of throwing up.
When it’s Damian’s turn, I reluctantly shift my eyes to his, my heart hammering in my chest with the way he’s leering at me. By that alone, I know I’m not going to like this.
“I’ve been waiting to play this card all night,” he says, then throws down a draw four, the room erupting in cheers and clapping. I look around the table, then behind me, realizing it’s not just us anymore. Many of the people from upstairs have congregated in the basement to watch.
I reach for the beer in front of me and guzzle the rest of it, wincing at the bitter taste. Wiping my mouth, I stand. A warmth fills me when I hear all the cheers, giving me the boost of confidence I need.
“So tell me, Damian,” I say coyly. I place my hands on my hips, not trying to hide from him or anyone else. I can feel the heat of dozens of eyes on me. I know I have a nice body. And I’m pretty sure I have the biggest boobs in my class, which is probably why every single guy in this room is salivating right now. “What would you like me to take off?”
He stands from his chair, wearing just a pair of boxer briefs. I steal a glance, noticing a bulge that’s grown in size over the past few seconds. He doesn’t even try to hide it.
With a devious stare, he lifts a finger to my neck, running it down my collarbone. When he proceeds through the valley of my cleavage, my breathing grows more uneven. I’m hoping he stops there, but he keeps going, his finger circling my belly button before settling at the waistband of my panties.
My pulse spikes, his mouth a whisper away. He sneaks a finger underneath the material for a moment before pulling back. “Your bra.”
There’s more clapping as everyone begins to chant my name. I draw in a deep breath, summoning the strength to get through this. What does it matter? They’re just boobs. Every female has a pair. They’re not sexual but maternal, a way for a mother to feed her young. At least that’s what I try to convince myself as I close my eyes and reach behind me to unclasp the thin piece of fabric.
One second, my hands tremble, regret filling me for putting myself in this situation, knowing my reputation at school will never be the same. The next, some sort of fabric is thrown over me and I’m hoisted up, disoriented as I watch the basement disappear behind me. I flail and kick, screaming for whomever has me to put me down, worried it’s Damian carrying me upstairs for a bit of privacy. I don’t know what I expected tonight’s end result to be, but it was certainly not that.
Fresh air hits my face, my feet finding the ground. I take a minute
to reorient myself when I’m met with a pair of fiery, dark eyes.
“What the fuck were you doing?” Drew roars, his neck tense, his jaw clenching. I’ve seen him angry before, but never like this.
“Just having a little fun.” I pull the blanket tighter around my body, feeling sick to my stomach. My skin crawls with what I’d almost done. Still, I don’t want Drew to know that. I don’t want him to think I need him in my life when he’s made it more than apparent he doesn’t need me.
“A little fun?” He stares at me, then tugs at his hair, pacing. “A little fun? I’m leaving tomorrow, Brooklyn! I won’t be around to look out for you anymore!”
“Who said I needed you to do that in the first place?! I’m fine! I know what I’m doing!”
“Oh really?” He stops in his tracks, leaning into me. “And what would your father say if he learned you were about to take off your bra in front of half the male population of our school?”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. My dad would never look at me the same way again. He probably would send me to a convent. He’s constantly warning me about the consequences of bad decisions, particularly on nights he responds to a labor call and the woman is a teenager. Tonight is most certainly the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.
“I just wanted one night of fun. One night! You can’t stand there and talk to me about this when you were at the overlook with Mindy tonight. You have no claim over me.”
He screams in frustration. “I never took her to the overlook. That date was over before it ever began!”
My breath hitches at his words. “It was?”
“Yes.” His voice softens. “It was.”
I’m momentarily speechless, but that still doesn’t give him the right to make decisions for me. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. As this summer has taught me, I don’t matter. I’m just your sister’s best friend. Nothing more.”