“Ugh, you sound like mom.” Kiki rolls her eyes and snatches the cup out of his hand. Despite her complaints, she downs half the drink in one gulp. She lets out a ragged breath and wipes pineapple juice from the corner of her mouth before turning to look at Carla. “Give him a shot,” she instructs before turning to her brother with her usual apathetic gaze. “You’re killing the vibe.”
Kai seems annoyed, but he doesn’t protest Kiki’s dismissal or her command. Following orders, Carla delivers a generous shot of tequila to Kai. He wrinkles his nose after he takes a whiff of the drink, looking hesitant for a moment before gulping it down as quickly as his sister had seconds earlier. He winces the second the alcohol passes his lips, face scrunched up in disgust even after he’s swallowed it down. I don’t realize how roughly I’m biting down on my lip until a jolt of pain forces me to ease up.
“Just needed to take the edge off,” he whispers to me after setting the cup on the table and returning to my side. His voice is ragged, like Kiki’s had been moments earlier, and his cheeks are still flushed.
I’m not mad at him for drinking, though I can see how he thought I was. I just can’t stomach it. That too-familiar smell—harsh and acidic and sharp as knife. As he shrugs out of hisshirt and steps into the hot tub, I catch the scent of his cologne clinging to his skin. Somehow that smell—the scent of cologne mixed with the tequila—is worse.
Papi’s cologne always lingered too.
“Are you getting in or just standing there?” Kiki asks, snapping me back to reality.
Kai scolds her by splashing in her direction. Kiki lets out a scream that could wake the dead as she tucks a loose loc hanging in front of her face behind her ear and out of harm’s way. The rest of her hair is held back in a chic patterned hair clip, held more securely by a silk scarf that’s almost the exact same shade of lilac as her bikini. It’s identical to Carla’s suit except for the color—Carla opting for fire engine red.
As I quickly shuffle into the hot tub before I can embarrass myself again, Carla follows my lead and steps into the tub too. I breathe a sigh of relief as she settles down beside Timothy, his arm draped across her shoulders. Once again, he buries his face in her neck, but she doesn’t pay him any mind.
“Like what you see?” she asks with a smirk, and I don’t even realize the question is aimed at me until I look away from the strap of her bikini to find her eyes locked on mine.
“Can you guys leave her alone for five seconds?” Kai interjects before I can reply, hovering in the water between me and Carla, protecting me like a shield or a guard dog.
If I thought the water was warm before it’s nothing compared to the combined heat of Kai’s closeness and Carla’s teasing gaze. I’m so hot all over I feel like I could melt any second, my skin prickling with a combination of anticipation and mortification.
“It’s fine,” I assure Kai, straightening myself out before turning to give Carla my most sincere smile. “That’s a nice color.”
She meets my smile with a pleased look, her lips curling around the rim of her cup. “Thanks.”
“Did you and Kiki buy them together?” I ask. Carla responds with a confused raised brow. I turn to Kiki, gesturing toward her own bikini before adding, “They’re the same swimsuit, right?”
Carla and Kiki exchange a loaded, too-long look that sets me on edge the longer it lasts. Kai glances between the two of them while Timothy blinks at his girlfriend like he’s seeing her from underwater, his eyes tinged red and pupils blown as wide as the full moon shrouded behind the clouds.
Finally, after what feels like hours Carla breaks the silence with, “We have the same taste” at the exact same moment Kiki says, “We should play a game.”
The girls lock eyes again after the overlap, Kiki mouthing something so quick I can’t make it out, but Carla gets the message loud and clear.
“Never Have I Ever?” she suggests without missing a beat, moving on as if nothing happened between the two of them.
The whiplash of the conversation leaves me reeling. While I’ve never played this game before I’ve seen it on TV enough times to know how it works—and that I’ll be embarrassingly awful at it. Before I can even think of another game to suggest, Kiki leans out of the tub enough to reach the table and pour a fresh drink for everyone—a mix of Bacardi and Diet Coke. Before I can politely turn down the drink, she shoves a cup into my hand.
No one explains the rules once drinks are in hand. Kiki takes her rightful place at the center of our semicircle, holding up her claw-like fingers and looking around at each of us with a smirk before kicking the game off.
“Never have I ever… gotten detention,” she says with a pleased smile to a round of groans.
“Bitch,” Carla mutters before shoving her pinkie down. Beside her, Timothy tucks his thumb into his palm with a scoff.
“Not my fault you’re a delinquent,” Kiki preens, lifting up her drink in a toast as both Carla and Timothy take delicate sips of their own.
Once he’s downed his punishment sip, Timothy leans back against the edge of the tub and tilts his head up. His eyes glaze as he takes in the night sky and his brows furrow, deep in thought the way only someone who’s stoned can be.
“Never have I ever…” He pauses for so long Carla has to shove him to get him to even attempt to finish his statement. “I don’t know. Stolen something.” He shrugs and slumps back until half of his face is submerged beneath the water.
Carla turns to him with narrowed eyes. “What about that breakfast sandwich you took from the Wawa down the block?”
“That was an accident!” Timothy protests.
While the two of them bicker about the semantics of what counts as stealing, I lower my own thumb into my palm. I take a quick, discreet sip of my drink and hope none of them will notice. The alcohol burns the second it touches my tongue—the fizz combined with the Bacardi as electric as battery acid. I took the smallest sip I possibly could, but it still travels down my throat like tar, settling at the pit of my stomach.
After I’ve white-knuckled my way through the sip, I shake myself off to find Timothy staring right at me, his mouth open in silent shock. “Oh shit,” he says over a chuckle, just loud enough to get the others attention.
I can feel the heat of their eyes on me within seconds—everyone in the tub suddenly staring at the four fingers I’m holding up against my chest. I resist the urge to shove my hand beneath the water to avoid explaining the what and the why. Looking at all their shocked faces, though, part of me does feel a bit of a thrill. I like that I’ve surprised them. That I’ve proven there’s more to me than my family’s story. That I can be someone worthy of being in their circle, be the regular teenage girl I’ve always wanted to be.