Bound By Deception|18+

07

Aria

Dove and I barely make it through the dorm‑room door before Max sprawls across our tiny loveseat like an excited Labrador. Spencer stands in the corner, arms folded, watching Max with a mixture of affection and exasperation.

"Ladies!" Max chirps. "Pack your swimsuits. Sunsets. Pool. Music. Freedom. We're going."

Dove kicks off her sneakers. "Hard pass. The last two parties almost ended in homicide, remember?"

"Semantics," Max says, waving that away. "This one's a chill, off‑campus pool party. No Saints, no secret QR codes, no—" he lowers his voice "—Kuzmich drama."

Spencer clears his throat. "Our luck with 'chill' parties is nonexistent."

"Pessimists, the lot of you," Max grumbles. Then he looks at me, eyes wide, deploying his deadliest weapon: the pout. "Aria, back me up. Sunshine. Chlorine. Flotation devices shaped like flamingos. You need this."

I sink onto my bed, still rattled from the library encounter. "I don't know..."

"Exactly!" he says, as though I'd agreed. "You don't know. Which means you haven't decided. Which means there's hope."

Dove points a stern finger. "Hope died the night you convinced us to play truth or dare, Max."

He presses a hand to his heart. "Look, that escalated because people have unresolved sexual tension." He flicks a glance at Spencer—who looks away quickly—and then at me. "Tonight is low stakes. Just water, music, and the possibility of mild sunburn."

Spencer uncrosses his arms. "Who's hosting?"

Max grins. "Couple of lacrosse seniors. Trust me—they're harmless."

"Trust you?" Dove arches a brow. "That's the slogan on your family crest."

"But you love me." Max's grin wobbles. For a split second, the mask slips and something tired lives behind his eyes. He's trying—too hard—to keep the room bright.

Dove notices. She always notices. Her shoulders soften. "One hour," she bargains, shooting Spencer a warning look before he can protest. "We stay one hour. Anyone starts stripping or setting things on fire, we leave."

Max pumps a fist. "One hour! Best hour of your life—guaranteed."

I try to steady my breathing. Pools. Crowds. Laughter. Nothing sinister about chlorine and pop songs—on the surface. Still... it's easier to face noise with friends than sleep alone with my thoughts.

Spencer studies me. "You okay with this?"

I nod. The thought of my dorm—quiet, shadows pooling in corners—makes my skin crawl. "One hour," I echo Dove.

Max whoops, dives for my closet, and starts rifling through drawers. "Aha—black one‑piece for Aria. Dove, you're a red bikini girl, obviously. Spencer, you own swim trunks, right? Please say yes."

Spencer sighs, resigned. "Fine. But I'm not getting in the water."

"Famous last words," Max sings, tossing clothes like confetti.

He moves too fast for gloom to settle. Maybe that's the point—run faster than the dark can follow.

For tonight, I'll try to keep up. Even if the pool's surface hides more than water can wash away.

~*~

The ride up to the bluff feels like the longest ten minutes of my life. Max bounces in the middle seat of the SUV, practically vibrating against the cracked faux‑leather, humming along to a playlist only he can hear through one earbud. Spencer sits rigid in the passenger seat. I watch his thumb drum against his knee, a silent Morse code of restlessness, while Dove scrolls her phone beside Max.