And Then There Were Five

A Little Crowded In Here

JAGGER

I must say, I'm quite impressed with Archer. Mainly because I didn't expect him to show up to our backyard with a beer he got from who knows where, but also because he fit right in. Socially, he was doing great. The dudes couldn't get enough of his British accent, which I almost worried they'd write him off for before he could say anything else. I knew he was going to do well when he fabricated an elaborate story about sneaking not one, but two hot girls into campus with him to...damage some property. He'll definitely be allowed back for round two tomorrow, but for now, my concern isn't him--if not because of his success thus far, but because he's already entertaining a few girls in the corner. 

My concern lies with the fact that when Valencia told me she'd be bringing a friend, I certainly did not expect to see Kamya--especially not looking like this.

Despite Valencia looking...well, hot...I've never seen Kamya like this. For starters, this is the least amount of clothing I've seen her wear at one time, and I can't say that I have any complaints. Even while coming to the realization that she's attractive, I'm unable to remember how much of a brat she could be at times.

I watch as she and Valencia go to the drinks station, and once their red solos are filled up and passed back to them, I begin to see the true version of her I've grown to tolerate. She's practically leashed to Valencia, not letting her get more than four feet away from her. Following her every move. Kamya mouths something I can't make out from across the room--

"Dude, yes!" one of my brothers--Nick--says, interrupting my thoughts. "She's hot."

"Which one?"

"The one in the white!" he almost giggles, taking the last swig of his drink as he points out Valencia. Throwing the empty cup on the ground like we won't have to mop up later, he turns to me for my opinion. 

"All yours," I assure him, and as he begins to make his way towards her, I catch Valencia's eye just before they begin a half-assed exchange of conversation above the blaring music. Immediately, I see Kamya's discomfort. Her grip on her drink tightens, and instinctively, she moves to stand somewhat behind Valencia's shoulder.

Nick notices it, too, and attempting to play nice, he offers what looks to be a respectful handshake. I almost cringe at the sight. Yeah, we do that sort of greeting when we meet girls during the day--but amidst a crowded mosh pit of underage college kids purposely dressed somewhat provocatively...not exactly. Still, Kamya accepts the gesture, loosening up ever so slightly--

And then, Nick points Kamya out to me.

I prepare for the eye roll of the century, but when her dark eyes meet mine from across the room, she seems...thankful? She's smart enough to know that Nick wants her out of the way so he can dance with Valencia. Well, maybe dance isn't the right word. 

Still, she's dumb enough to start walking my way.

Why am I starting to panic? Why is this more intimidating than being in the presence of other hot girls? Why does my heart want to punch a hole through my chest in equal excitement and terror? I this what cardiac arrest feels like?

"Hey there, stranger," Kamya has to scream by way of greeting.

"This is my house," I clarify loudly. "You're the stranger, here."

Just before she can hurl a clever insult, her voice is drowned out by the shrill sound of squealing girls as Come Get Her by Rae Sremmurd starts blaring through the main room. A disturbed you're kidding me, right? falls off of Kamya's red, painted lips, and the sight is so beautiful yet unsettling that I nearly burst into laughter. That's when she turns to me and asks, a startled expression on her face, "So the elevated surfaces trope is a real thing?"

I would answer her aloud, but Valencia on top of the covered foosball table is testament enough. I can't help but laugh and hope her Standards isn't at this party. Still, the fact that I find this situation funny certainly doesn't ease Kamya's mind. "I can tell this isn't your thing."

"Obviously," she almost snarls, but she straightens herself out. "But, I promised myself I'd stay a full hour, like it or not. Besides, it'd be a waste of makeup to leave sooner than that."

The words almost leave my mouth--the compliment I have for the way she looks, how she perfectly adjusted the features of her face that could drive guys crazy--but I swiftly stuff them back into my throat and simply nod along. "I get it if it feels a little crowded in here."

"A little?" she chuckles, then sips her drink, puckering her lips. "This is absolutely..." then, her face shifts, "tolerable?" And then, Kamya laughs, and it's a sound that sobers me completely. I'm nowhere close to being drunk, but her laugh--her...breathtaking laugh--makes me feel like I just jumped into icy waters. All I can think about is the perfectly, completely-not-normal chest pain it brings me. 

I almost forgot that she had a talent for pissing me off, both intentionally and not.

She hears a thud, and not missing a beat, she asks, "What's in the yard?"

"Probably some guys playing HORSE drunk off their asses. It's quite a show. There's a fire pit out there, too, if you want to get away from here--"

"Yes!" she almost shouts, taking my hand in hers without a second's hesitation and yanking me out of the room just as I watch Valencia step down off of the table towards someone I can't make out in the crowd.

I force myself ahead of her and slow the both of us down so it doesn't look to the other brothers that we're trying to make a getaway out the back gate. Sure enough, a game of HORSE is just starting up between three guys, none of which notice Kamya and I sit down by the flames. 

"Much better," Kamya remark before I can ask. She tucks a strand of hair behind her right ear--

I mentally slap myself across the face. Since when do I pay attention to small actions like this? Especially from her? She seems to read my internal distress signal and offers up a rather cheeky smile. "Suddenly, you seem uncomfortable. Everything alright?"

I shrug. "Jut preparing myself to put up with you for the next hour all by myself," I half lie, and my words are met with a swift punch to the bicep. To her credit, she doesn't hold back, and it stings. "Didn't know that painting pretty things can give you an arm workout."

Kamya thins her lips out in slight glee. "You think my art is pretty?"

"Please," I chuckle, letting this one truth seep into the conversation. "Ugly art doesn't earn you money from college boards."

She takes what little of a compliment I throw her with pride just before her grin falls flat. "How's school so far?"

I try to deflect the subject. "It's the weekend," I groan. "Saying the word school is like saying You Know Who's name."

Kamya finds my remark rather interesting. "I didn't know you liked Harry Potter, Jagger."

"Only the movies," I clarify. "I've never read the books."

I fully expect a lecture unlike any other about how the books are always better, but to my great surprise, she laughs through her nose and merely says, "Nothing against her, but who has that kind of time?"

We laugh for a moment, and then, in my peripheral vision, one of my brothers on the court finally notices us and toasts his drink to me in silence before promptly chugging the remains. Before I can see him fail to make another shot in the game, I turn my attention back to Kamya and say, "You look great."

Kamya huffs at that, shaking her head. "That's what makeup and Valencia's clothes will do for a person."

"Nah," I grit out, fraud to say the words. "You always look nice."

There's an ungodly amount of silence between the two of us before she finally murmurs, "If you weren't so damn irritable, maybe I'd find you more attractive than I already do."

The last four words out of her mouth let me know that I'm game, and considering she doesn't look away from me in embarrassment--locking eyes with me as she, too, finishes off her drink--we may be entering into uncharted waters, here. I almost begin to wish that she will stay out here with me for...well, more than an hour.