Strip Game - A Whirlwind Summer

40. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐇 1

It's been a couple of months, and if anyone told me it would take 7 to 8 months to update this book, I'd have denied it, because I was so into it. I would've completed it in a day if I could. But here I am, I'm so sorry, guys. I grew up, and a lot changed. I started this book when I was 16 and a half, and now I'm 18! Yay!

♪✰❄︎𖤍❄︎✰♪

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀

If anyone thought the twins would throw a normal birthday party, they clearly didn’t know Molly and Chris.

This wasn’t a “balloons and cupcakes” kind of celebration.

This was legendary before it even started.

The entire senior class had been buzzing all week. Group chats flooded with dress picks, whispered drama, and the question of the hour: Who’s showing up with who?

And of course… who’s brave enough to survive the Game Challenges?

××

That Friday night, I stared at myself in the mirror, feeling the slow build of anxiety under my excitement.

My curls fell in soft waves, my dress hugged in all the right places, and my lipstick was just the right shade of “don’t-mess-with-me.”

I looked good.

I felt… uncertain.

Kyle had offered to pick me up—and this time, I said yes. Maybe because I didn’t want to arrive alone like I used to. Or maybe because part of me needed to prove that I’d moved on. That I had someone now.

Someone steady.

Someone who chose me in return.

So when his car pulled up, I let myself slide into the passenger seat and didn’t look back.

By the time we arrived, the twins’ house was already glowing. Neon lights. Thumping bass. A DJ booth set up in their backyard.

People spilled out from every room — laughing, dancing, drinking. The smell of barbecue, popcorn, and perfume hung thick in the air.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Molly said, spinning around with a grin, her wine-red party dress flaring like she was on a red carpet.
'And wow... did you two plan this? Be honest. This is giving ‘power couple goes to prom’.”

I blinked. "What? No! I—he picked—"

" I picked her dress" Kyle said smugly, brushing imaginary lint off his shirt like a smug stylist. "And don’t pretend you don’t love how good we look together."

I elbowed him. Lightly. I think.

Molly’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in. "You’re blushing."

"No, I’m not."

"Girl, you match the dress, and yes you're blushing."

Before I could recover from that burn, Ashley appeared beside us, her entire posture stiff with tension.

Her eyes were darting across the yard like a heat-seeking missile. I didn’t need to ask who she was looking for—especially not with the way she was pouring herself into that dangerously tight dress. It was black. It was short. And it barely passed as legal coverage.

"Looking for me?" a voice came from behind, smooth as honey.

Ashley didn’t even turn. "Dream on, Chris."

Chris laughed anyway, unfazed, and let his eyes roam far longer than appropriate.

"That dress should come with a warning label," he said, not even pretending to look at her face.