A perfect punch was equal parts precision and force. Smooth at first, and then, impact. That last part was the important one. If you didn’t feel the mistake drop into your stomach like a brick, it wasn’t good. Sara frowned down at the cooler and the electric pink liquid sloshing inside it.
She twisted and caught the eye of one fraternity brothers huddling over the beer pong table. “Whats in this?” She mouthed over the blare of tropical house and pointed at the punch cooler on the kitchen floor.
The fraternity had abandoned their collared shirts in the summer heat and his dark hair was mussed with either sweat or product. He broke from his pack and came over, but not before sweeping his gaze from her crimson heels to the top of her bleached-blonde roots. “Huh?”
“The cooler punch. What’s in it?” She looked down at the dingy container and its rosy contents.
The young man looked at Sara like she’d demanded nuclear codes. “Don’t worry about it.”
Sara snorted, unperturbed. Alpha Tau didn’t have the balls to attempt anything actually villainous in their communal punch. Too easy for one of their own to forget and partake. She knelt at her knees, lest he get a show, and dipped her plastic cup into the punch. Still, kneeling, she sipped and made a face up at him. “That’s what I thought.”
She held up her hand over her head to him, inviting him to help her from the awkward position. When he did, she pressed her cup into his chest. “Very smooth.”
Sara wobbled her way over the sticky kitchen floor and returned with a two of the plastic bottles from the counter. She met the his eyes with a grin, and then poured the contents of both into the cooler. The pink punch lapped against the sides.
“There, now it has some punch.” Sara laughed mostly at his unsure expression and her own terrible sense of humor. Taking back her cup, she grabbed his too. Then she filled them both from the cooler. “Cheers”