Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 80

When I find Mila, she’s practically glowing. Her back’s against the wall, her hands twirling a loose strand of hair, and she’s laughing like she’s in one of those cheesy romantic comedies she always makes me watch. The guy in front of her is tall. Like, really tall. Tall enough that Mila—Mila, who doesn’t get nervous around anyone—is looking up at him with wide, fluttery lashes and that “I want to eat you like candy” smile she saves for only the hottest humans alive.

I try to tap her shoulder gently. “Mila—hey, can I—”

She doesn’t even look at me. Just waves me off with a lazy flick of her fingers and whispers, “He's so fine… don’t ruin this for me, Pen.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

She shushes me.

Okay then. Guess I’m on my own.

I start making my way back downstairs, the music pounding louder with every step I take. The house is packed, hot with bodies pressed close and laughter bouncing off the walls. The smell of alcohol and cologne hangs thick in the air, and for a second, I regret not insisting we just go for ice cream and call it a night.

But then I see Tyler.

He’s mid-laugh, a red solo cup in one hand and his other arm shooting up in victory as a ping pong ball clinks off the rim of a plastic cup. The group around the table cheers, and before I can get a word out, he spots me.

“Baaaabe!” he yells, pushing through a cluster of people and scooping me into his arms. He spins me around like I weigh nothing, and for a second, I laugh, dizzy from the motion and the sound and the feel of him.

He sets me down and kisses my cheek. “We won. We freaking won. That’s, like, three games in a row.”

“I’m so proud of you,” I say, grinning up at him.

“You having fun?” he asks, brushing some hair behind my ear.

“Yeah. You?”

He lifts his cup. “I mean… obviously.”

I lean in closer, catching the sharp, yeasty smell. “How much have you had?”

Tyler shrugs. “They made me drink a lot at first. We were losing. But it’s nothing for me. I’m good.”

Before I can argue, Rebecca—dressed in something that’s basically just a glittery scarf pretending to be a top—sidles up next to us.

“We’re starting a new game,” she purrs, wrapping an arm around Tyler’s shoulder. “Drinking Roulette. You two in?”

“I don’t think—” I start.

“Of course we are!” Tyler says, cutting me off.

I shoot him a look. “Ty—”

“I’ll drink for you,” he promises, kissing my temple. “You can just play and not drink. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, Pen,” Rebecca says with a smirk. “Just sit there and look cute.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.

We sit in a circle on the floor, red solo cups lined up in the center. Rebecca pulls out a deck of cards and begins to explain.

“Each card is tied to a challenge,” she says. “Number cards are questions—answer or drink. Face cards are dares—do it or drink. Aces mean spin the bottle.”

“Like, actual spin the bottle?” some guy with a man bun asks.

“Yep,” Rebecca says. “But just a kiss on the cheek, or a drink if you chicken out.”

I groan internally.

The game begins.

Tyler picks first. He pulls a seven of hearts.

“Truth,” Rebecca says. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

He laughs and downs his drink. “Not telling.”

Everyone cheers.

Next is Rebecca. She gets a Jack. A dare.

“Let’s see…” someone says. “Go up to the next person who walks in and ask them if they believe in love at first sight. If they say yes, kiss them.”

Rebecca does it without blinking.

Then it’s my turn.

Five of spades.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone?” someone asks.

I hesitate. “I… once cheated on a math test.”

Booing. Laughter.

“Lame,” someone calls out.

I shrug. “Still a truth.”

The game keeps going. And going. Tyler gets called out for having to say who he thinks the hottest girl in the room is—not counting me. He drinks instead. He gets dared to send a risky text to his mom. Drinks. Another question about regrets—drinks. Another dare to lap dance a stranger—drinks.

I lose count around cup six or seven.

“Tyler,” I whisper, nudging him. “Maybe slow down?”

He waves me off. “I’m fine, babe.”

Rebecca leans over, her breath thick with whatever’s in her cup. “Let him be, Penny. He’s a big boy.”

My jaw tightens. But I don’t respond.

Another round. Another drink.

It’s getting harder to laugh. Harder to pretend I’m having a good time.

“Ty,” I say, more firmly this time, “You’ve had enough.”

He leans in and kisses my neck. “Relax. I’m celebrating you, remember?”

But it doesn’t feel like a celebration anymore.

It feels like a performance. A show for everyone around us while I sit there, small and tight and slowly shrinking into myself.

Eventually, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, needing space, needing to breathe, needing to stop feeling like I’m the only one who’s noticing how sideways this is going.

When I look back, Tyler is laughing so hard he almost falls backward.

Zoe steadies him.

My stomach knots.

And I walk away.