Be nice

“Nah,” you say. “Look at her. She’s nervous. We should support her, not scare her.”

“OK,” Becka replies, looking pleased with your answer. “That’s sweet of you.”

Together, you get what Bao will need out of the closet and go down to join her. The painting she’s looking at is two nude nuns on a bed, sitting and touching each other.

“I like that one,” you say. “That’s actually exactly what my first time was like.” You and your girlfriend were just like that on her bed, except you were wearing your underwear, fumbling with each other’s bodies. It’s a nice memory.

Bao blushes and follows you to a room that Becka chooses. You go in and Bao awkwardly helps the two of you make up the bed.

“Towels, toothbrush,” Becka says, putting things on the dresser.

“How do we have all this?” you ask.

“I’m telling you, people leave lots of stuff behind.”

“Brand new toothbrushes?” you ask, looking at it. It’s still in the package.

Becka shrugs. “I just work here.” She touches your waist. “Actually, can you give me a hand? I have to carry some stuff.”

“Sure,” you reply, happy to spend time with her. “Anything else you need?” you ask Bao, who shakes her head. “You OK?”

“You just speak very freely about personal things,” she says shyly. Oh, she’s hung up on what you said in the hall.

“Sorry,” you tell her. “We’re like that around here.”

“You got plans tonight?” Becka asks you.

“Making with you,” you reply to her. It’s the most CCL answer you can think of.

“I guess I have to thank you for your help somehow,” she replies, patting your bottom.

“See you,” you say to Bao, and you and Becka leave the room. It was sudden, but it looks like you have a date. Nice. “So what are we carrying?” you ask her as you head downstairs. Olivia brushes past you on the way up, and as you reach the foyer, you see Aki disappear into the kitchen.

“Beer,” Becka replies. “Shelby brought some, but she took it downstairs instead of to the party room. Now nobody can find her.”

“Oh jeez,” you say.

You go down to the basement and find the keg of beer that Becka must mean. It’s dark and messy down here. And cold. You have never liked this basement, and there’s no sign of Shelby.

Together, you and Becka lift it, but as soon as you start to walk it back toward the stairs, you feel a sharp pain in your foot! You cry out in surprise and drop the keg. Becka is startled too, and it clangs to the ground, the top bursting open. It spins wildly, spraying ice cold beer. You recoil and fall down, soaked in beer. Becka dives on top of the keg and twists it shut, but she gets all wet too.

“Ow!”

“What is it?” she asks.

“Oh my god,” you reply. “I stepped on a fucking knife.” You pick it up. It’s a kitchen knife. Why was this on the floor? “Ouch.” You have a cut on your foot now. It’s not super bad, but it hurts!

“Shit,” Becka says. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you put some shoes on.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” you say. You don’t blame Becka for this. You should’ve known better than to come down here barefoot. But seriously, a knife?

You both stand up, and you wince at the pain. You’re dripping beer. You need a band-aid, a shower, and a new outfit. Becka probably likes the wet t-shirt show she’s getting right now, but you are not happy about it.

“I better clean this up,” Becka says with a sigh. “Or do you need a hand?”

Let Becka stay and clean?

Or have her help you go back upstairs?