If you had told me that a mere four months after whacking my shin with her field hockey stick, Kaia Greene would be standing in my kitchen on Halloween while I practically gawked at her, I would have laughed in your face. Whoever is in charge of destiny or fate or whatever bullshit is definitely laughing now.

"I need a beer pong partner," I said to her with a grin. "Consider this your penance for showing up late."

Before she could protest, I gently took her hand and pulled her into the sticky sanctum of the living room, where most of the partygoers had migrated to.

"You really should be more careful who you boss around. I bite." She bared her fake fangs at me, and warmth rushed through my body.

"I'll sell my soul if it means beating Anthony." I inadvertently brushed off her attempt at flirting, mostly because I had to second guess if it was an actual threat at first.

She scoffed. "I'm a vampire, not Satan."

"Duly noted."

I led her over to the folding card table we'd pulled out specifically for pong, already slick with spilled beer, where Anthony leaned against the edge. He'd recruited Meret as his partner, and as she leaned into him, he snaked an arm around her waist and rested it on her hip. I chewed down on my lip to avoid wondering what it would feel like if I did that to Kaia. I dropped her hand in a rush and absentmindedly fiddled with the cups, even though they were already filled halfway with the standard cheap beer and placed where they needed to be.

"About time," Anthony grumbled. "Stalling doesn't change the outcome."

"No, you're right." I gave him a pinched smile. "But it does give you more time to process and accept your inevitable defeat."

I turned to Kaia and clapped my hands down on her shoulders. "Listen Kaia, this is a game of war and strategy here. I don't fuck around."

She placed her hands on top of mine, and another wave of warmth rolled through me. A smirk twisted up the corners of her lips. "You're not the only competitor around here, you know."

Anthony and I shot against each other simultaneously to see which team would go first, and unfortunately that loosey goosey that Rochelle had instilled in me had dissipated. Football skills didn't always translate to the pong table, despite the fact that Anthony insisted I took a step back further from where everyone else stood to avoid an "unfair advantage."

Anthony and Meret both hit their first shots, and I picked up both cups from the table. "I'll take the first few cups if you want. I'm built for longevity."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it." When she took the cup from my hands, her fingers brushed against mine, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Our gazes remained interlocked as we downed our drinks at the same time.

Kaia methodically handed me one of the pong balls, and that same slow motion, gut churning, warm feeling ripped through me when she touched my hand with hers.

"I really hope you're not all talk like you are in class." She grinned.

Kaia and I both hit our shots, but the more cups that were removed from the setup, the harder it got. The living room had already been fairly crowded, but it wasn't long before people gravitated to our table, and it invigorated me. I thrived under watchful eyes, and I think Kaia did too. The more cups we hit, the closer we got. We even high fived.

I sunk an "island" shot, which elicited cheers from the crowded masses. I leaned down closer to Kaia, letting my hand graze the small of her back. "Still think I'm all talk?"

"I still think you're all talk in Lit class," she grinned. "But I'll give you beer pong, sure."

Every time we inched a little closer, and every time our hands would brush against one another's, I lost myself a little bit more. But the kind of lost where you're not sure if you want to be found.

It was down to one cup each. Heat rippled through the living room from all the bodies huddled by our table, and by this point most of the people at the party had gathered around to watch. I itched under my tight Hawkeye ensemble as sweat pooled in places it shouldn't, and I couldn't shake the taste of stale beer at the back of my mouth.

The feeling of Kaia's hand on my forearm jolted me back to reality. "Don't blow it."

I wasn't drunk, but loose enough to let my body move on it's own before my head could second guess. That included moving my mouth. I extended my hand with the pong ball in it towards her face. "You could blow on it. For good luck."

She scoffed. "This isn't dice in Vegas, Dal."

The way Dal dripped off her lips like honey sounded so sweet it could have spiked my blood sugar. Nobody in the state of Connecticut called me Dal.

"Fine, if I don't make this it's on you." I had to recenter myself. After I let out a quick breath, I tossed it and sunk it. More cheers, and a sneer from Anthony.

"Okay, now it's really on you," I nudged Kaia forward.

"Yeah, no pressure," she grumbled.

She stepped forward, and I gave a silent glance around the room to settle the crowd noise, like ushers did at a golf match before someone teed off. I was so hyper-focused on a single bead of sweat that trickled down her temple and settled into a web of freckles on her cheek that I hadn't realized she'd actually shot the ball. That is, until the entire party erupted into a surge of triumphant cheers. Game over.

Without thinking twice, I scooped Kaia up into my arms and spun her around, her long black hair whipping in my face and itching my nose. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed, and it was crazy how such a stupid little thing like winning a beer pong game put us into emotional overdrive. Even just for a moment. We were both overly competitive by nature, and maybe for once it pushed us together instead of tearing us apart.

When I put her down, we were both out of breath. Most of the crowd had retreated back to their corners of the party, and after Anthony gave us a begrudgingly good game acknowledgement, just Kaia and I were left lingering by the table.

"So you do know you're now obligated to be my pong partner for the rest of the year," I chided at her.

"Sorry, but I've fulfilled my one yearly Dallas Gunther party quota," she replied with a wave of her hand.

"I don't recall you ever being at one of my parties, so we'll have to backdate your one party a year quota to the previous three years you haven't come."

"Guess it's a good thing you'll be in Ithaca and I'll be in Hanover in the near future." She paused and tilted her head, the tiniest smirk tugging at her lips.

I shrugged. "Well, the near future is just that - the future. What about now?"

"Now..." she let her shoulders drop. "I think we should get some air."

When I offered her my hand, she took it. I led her back towards the deck, where all the layers of noise and heat peeled away and for a moment, it felt like we were truly alone.

For a bit the silence was nice, but the longer it stretched on, the more aware I became of my internal squirming.

"So did you listen to Julien Baker's new song?" The words left my mouth before I could think, and I let out a soft groan as I leaned forward onto the wooden railing of the deck.

"What?" A laugh squeaked out of her.

I fumbled to redeem myself. "I just remember that one night, you had her on in the car. I found her on Spotify and...I don't know, I like her."

"Oh you do?" The coyness in her voice wasn't totally lost to the quiet of the night. I looked down into the yard, but I felt her hand brush against mine on the railing.

When I looked over at her, it took me a moment to process how close we actually were. Even though I stood a full foot taller than her, it wasn't hard to catch her gaze as it slowly moved down to my mouth.

I knew what kissing her would mean, but the way that warmth rolled through my body when she brought her hand to my chest had me ready to watch the world around me burn.

"Dallas..." my name escaped her lips in barely a whisper, and by now she had her hand on the side of my jaw. I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to instill some self control, but if she moved any further up my face and touched my ears, my legs would give out. It was like she knew every sensitive spot on me without even trying.

I gave her a faint smirk. "You know, I almost like the way you say my name when you mean it."

"Dallas!" a voice that was definitely not Kaia's shattered the silence, and whatever moment we almost had. Even when I was ready to set myself on fire, someone was undoubtedly beside me with a bucket, ready to put me out.

I snapped my gaze up to see Chris in his stupid fucking banana costume waving at me from the sliding doors leading into the kitchen. "Dallas Alexander Gunther, you're wanted and needed."

I looked down at the wooden floor of the decking, as if our moment had physically fallen at my feet and broken into a hundred little pieces. When I looked back up at her, she just gave me a light shake of her head. It was irreparable, and she knew it too.

"Just go ahead." She forced a faint smile.

"I'll be...like...right back."

I composed myself as best as I could, but I felt my hands ball into fists as I walked up to Chris and led us both back into the house.

"What is it?" I hissed out.

"Uh well...Jordyn's looking for you." He struggled to get himself into the doorway, all the cheap nylon of his stupidly ironic costume bending and folding to fit through it. "She's in the front hallway. She seemed pretty upset."

I clenched my jaw so hard I was worried my teeth would splinter. "You're lucky that banana suit covers your neck or I'd strangle you."

Chris's cheeks flared red, and he gave me a guilty grin. "Guess I better split then."

I groaned as he cackled and bounced away. I didn't realize how long Kaia and I had been outside, but it was long enough for the party's momentum to shift drastically to a slowed, drunken descent. As I made my way to the foyer, I caught sight of Rochelle and Kennedy laughing as they tried to make their way up the stairs.

Jordyn stood by the front door with her heels dangling from her hand. The moment her eyes met mine, she dropped them to the floor and grabbed me without so much as a word, pressing her lips to mine in a drunken, lustful need. Like I was oxygen and she was drowning.

Maybe it was just residual sexual tension that I refused to let go of, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Even when my eyes fluttered open for just a moment, and over Jordyn's shoulder I saw Kaia watching us.

Maybe I did just crave the burn, because maybe I deserved it. Someone else might have drenched me in gasoline, but I was always going to be the one that lit the match. 

when i watch the world burn
all i think about is you

doom days / bastille

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while dallas reels from the magnitude of his actions, i am excusing myself to go co-write an AU chapter where dallas goes to cannondale with chandler england hi w1ldflow3r

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