*Chloe*

“Come on, girl,” Connie said, slurring her words as she tugged on my sleeve. “Sink this shit! You got this.”

I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on the red solo cup sitting across the kitchen island from me. The ping pong ball between my fingers and thumb wasn’t just a toy. It was the instrument of my foe’s destruction. Well, the destruction of their ego.

I didn’t look at the tattooed wanna-be punk football player across the counter from ...