Shots

They waded back into the crowd. The **** worked quickly, loosening the knot of tension in Philip’s chest. He found himself laughing when a guy from the rowing team asked him to tell a joke for a blue token.

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?” Philip asked, his voice sounding lkighter, more melodic than he expected.

“Why?” the rower asked, grinning stupidly at Philip’s chest.

“Because he was outstanding in his field.”

It was a terrible dad joke. The rower laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard and handed over the token.

“You have a great smile,” the guy said, his hand lingering on Philip’s bare arm as he passed the coin.

Philip froze for a second. The guy’s hand was warm. Rough. And instead of the recoil Philip expected, the get off me, dude reaction, he felt a strange, electric zinger shoot up his arm and settle low in his belly.

It wasn’t just a physical sensation. It was an emotional one. A sudden flush of pleasure at being complimented, at being noticed. It felt good. Really good.

“Thanks,” Philip said, and to his horror, he felt his eyelashes flutter. He didn’t tell them to do that. They just did. As they walked away, Philip grabbed Jack’s arm. “Jack. Something’s weird.”

“We’re possessing girls to steal underwear. Everything is weird,” Jack replied, scanning the room for their next target.

“No, I mean… that guy touched me. And I liked it.” Philip whispered the words like a confession. “I felt giddy. And hot. Like, physically hot.”

Jack stopped, looking at Philip with a curious expression. He lowered his voice. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’ve been feeling it too. Katy’s body has opinions.”

“Opinions?”

“I just spent five minutes talking to the quarterback,” Jack admitted, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “And the whole time, my brain was screaming look at his forearms. I don’t care about forearms, Phil. But Katy? Apparently, she’s obsessed. It’s like, bleeding through. The more we drink, the more I feel like I’m in the passenger seat and she’s grabbing the wheel.”

Philip looked down at his drink. “The potion,” he muttered. “Or just the physiology. We’re swimming in their hormones.”

“Does it feel bad?” Jack asked, tilting his head.

Philip looked back at the rower, who was still watching him. Vanessa’s body hummed with a low-level frequency of want. It was a hunger Philip had never experienced. A desire to be held, to be pursued.

“I don’t know,” Philip said honestly. “It’s confusing. But it does make this easier.”

“Exactly,” Jack grinned, downing the rest of his drink. “Lean into it. Let Vanessa drive for a bit. She knows how to work a room better than you do.”

Philip finished his drink. The room spun slightly, pleasant and warm. He decided Jack was right. Why fight the current?

He earned a blue token from a sophomore by pretending to be into him for two minutes to make his ex jealous. He draped himself over the guy’s arm, giggling at his jokes, feeling the strange, fascinating contrast of the guy’s hard bicep against the softness of Vanessa’s breast.

He earned a red token from a massive linebacker by agreeing to play a round of beer pong where the loser had to take off an item of clothing. Philip won, Vanessa’s hand-eye coordination was surprisingly good. Philip stood with his hands on his hips, watching the guy take off his t-shirt. “Very nice,” he drawled, giving the guy a wink that made him turn beet red.

“You’re a natural,” Jack shouted over the music, slapping Philip on the ass.

Philip jumped, the sensation sending a jolt of shock and arousal through him. “Watch it!”

“Check the score,” Jack said, holding up their stash. They had a handful of blue tokens and two reds. Maybe ten points total.

“It’s not enough,” Philip realized, his buzz dampening slightly. “We need thirty each. The night’s half over. At this rate, we’ll be grinding for blue tokens until dawn.”

“We need bigger fish,” Jack agreed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. “We need the guys who want more than a joke.”

Philip followed his gaze. The party was getting rowdier. The requests were getting bolder. He saw a girl on a table, dancing while two guys cheered. He saw another girl taking a body shot off a guy’s abs.

“We have to step it up,” Jack said. “You ready to get a little dirty?”

Philip felt a flutter of nerves, but it was drowned out by the thrumming excitement in Vanessa’s veins. Her body wanted to dance. She wanted to be wild.

“I’m ready,” Philip said, and for the first time that night, he meant it.

They pushed their way toward the center of the room, where the energy was highest. A group of brothers were gathered around a table where shots were being poured.

“New challengers!” one of them shouted. It was a guy named Mike, a senior known for being a hard-ass. He held up a red token. “Double shot. No hands. Off each other.”

The crowd cheered. Philip looked at Jack. Jack shrugged, a wicked grin spreading across Katy’s face.

“You game, Ness?” Jack teased.

Philip stepped forward, the heels of his sandals clicking on the floor. He felt the eyes of the room on him again, but this time, he didn’t shrink away. He rolled his shoulders back, thrusting Vanessa’s chest forward.

“Line ‘em up,” Philip invited.

Mike poured salt into the hollow of Philip’s collarbone and balanced a lime wedge between Jack’s teeth. The intimacy of it, the heat of the room, the proximity of Katy’s face, the roar of the crowd, was intoxicating.

Jack leaned in, his breath hot against Philip’s skin as he licked the salt from Philip’s neck. Philip gasped, his head falling back, his body arching instinctively into the touch. It felt incredible. The wet rasp of the tongue, the shiver that cascaded down his spine, the way his nipples tightened against the itty-bitty top.

They did the shots, the tequila burning pleasantly on the way down. The room erupted in applause. Mike tossed them two red tokens.

“Nice work, ladies,” Mike leered.

Philip grabbed the tokens, his chest heaving. He felt flushed, dizzy, and alive. He looked at Jack, who was wiping his mouth, eyes bright and dilated.

They grinned at each other and kept working the room.

Philip, currently possessed by the spirit of the party, or perhaps just possessed by Vanessa’s lowered inhibitions, found himself in the center of a circle of cheering brothers. A lollipop, cherry red and sticky, was being held out by a sophomore named Brad who looked like he’d already had six too many beers.

“Don’t use your hands,” Brad shouted over the music, dangling the candy. “Make it look good, and the red token is yours.”

An hour ago, Philip would have slapped the candy out of his hand and stormed off. But an hour ago, Philip hadn’t consumed three cups of jungle juice, and Vanessa’s body hadn’t fully hijacked his nervous system. Now, the music seemed to vibrate directly in his hips, bypassing his brain entirely.

He leaned forward, his hands clasped behind his back, Vanessa’s chest pressing against the fabric of the black top in a way that made Brad’s eyes bulge. Philip took the lollipop into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sweet, artificial cherry flavor. He wasn’t trying to be seductive, he was just trying to get the damn token, but Vanessa’s body moved on autopilot. Her lips pursed, her eyes half-lidded, a soft hum vibrating in her throat that Philip felt rumble through his own chest.

The crowd roared and Brad dropped the red token into Vanessa’s cleavage with a shaking hand.

“Jesus,” Jack whispered in his ear as Philip pulled back, “You’re a menace. I think you just broke him.”

Philip laughed, the sound bright and breathless. He felt light. Untethered. “Twenty-four points,” he shouted back, waving the token. “We need six more. Just two reds. Or six blues.”

“The blues are gone,” Jack said, scanning the room. He looked disheveled in the best way. Katy’s hair was a wild halo around her face, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline and ****. “And the guys with the reds are passing out or tapped out. We’re going to have to go for gold, Phil.”

Philip looked around. Jack was right. The energy of the party was shifting from raucous fun to sloppy mess. People were coupling up, disappearing into corners or upstairs rooms. The easy tokens had been farmed.

A sudden, sharp pang of anxiety cut through Philip’s buzz. If they failed now, after everything, Vanessa would be cut. And worse, Philip would have to go back to being just Philip.

The thought surprised him. He pushed it away, focusing on the room.

And then he felt it. A pull. Like a hook in his navel, dragging his attention to the far corner near the heavy oak staircase.

Ryan Hale was still there. He hadn’t moved much all night, holding court like a king on his throne. He was nursing a drink, looking bored, his blue eyes scanning the room with a predatory intelligence that made everyone else look like children.

Philip’s breath hitched. Vanessa’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a thumping beat that echoed in his ears. The attraction was a physical weight. Philip felt his thighs clench, a slick, hot dampness gathering between his legs that made his panties feel sticky. He wanted to be near him. He wanted Ryan to look at him with those arrogant eyes and see Vanessa.

“We don’t need two reds,” Philip said, his voice dropping an octave, husky with a borrowed desire. “We need one Gold.”

Jack followed his gaze. “Ryan? You sure? That guy is intense. And he’s our TA. That’s a whole layer of weird I don’t know if you’re ready for.”

“I’m ready,” Philip said. And he realized, with a jolt of shock, that he wasn’t lying. The hesitation he’d felt earlier was being drowned out by the overwhelming, biological imperative of the body he was in. Vanessa wanted Ryan. And right now, Philip was Vanessa.

“Okay then,” Jack grinned, linking his arm through Philip’s. “Lead the way, boss.”

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