Chapter 23 -Shots, Shivers, and Sweet Restraint

Orm had seen it coming from a mile away. Lingling had, too. They both sensed the inevitable collision of personalities—like a cosmic alignment that couldn't be stopped. Now, the moment had arrived, and Becky, May, and Namtan were all seated together at the group's usual café table. If Orm were prone to dramatics, she'd say the atmosphere crackled with potential chaos.

Lingling had orchestrated the meet-up under the guise of a casual coffee hang. She claimed to have "stumbled" across Namtan while buying pastries, but Orm was sure she'd planned it down to the minute. After all, nothing Lingling did was truly spontaneous.

"So, you're The Namtan?" Becky asked, sipping her iced coffee like she was sizing up a new rival.

Namtan tilted her head, smiling in a way that spelled trouble. "Depends. Are you The Becky?"

May snorted. "Oh, she definitely is. And I'm The May."

A tiny pause fell over the table. Then Becky and Namtan broke into matching grins, their eyes gleaming with shared mischief.

Becky leaned closer, crossing her arms on the table. "Alright, I like you already."

Namtan mirrored her posture, a smirk curving her lips. "Feeling's mutual."

May watched them like a hawk, her curiosity piqued. "Should we be worried?" she asked, glancing at Orm, who nursed her latte in silent amusement.

Over in her corner, Lingling observed with a faint, satisfied smile. Orm leaned toward her, voice hushed. "Did we just create a chaotic alliance?"

"Absolutely," Lingling murmured, her gaze flicking to Becky and Namtan, who were already swapping gossip about campus drama as if they'd been friends for years.

And so, a new trio was born: Becky, May, and Namtan—dangerous, gossipy, and a tad unhinged. Watching them chatter, Orm wondered if she and Lingling had unwittingly unleashed a force the campus wasn't prepared for.

With midterms barreling down like a runaway train, the entire university was in panic mode. Cafés overflowed with exhausted students ordering triple-shot espressos, and the library resembled a refugee camp of people buried in textbooks. Some clutched energy drinks like holy relics; others didze in corners, drooling on highlighters. A few poor souls stared blankly at whiteboards crammed with formulas, questioning every life choice that led them here.

Through it all, Orm and Lingling thrived.

Orm, the campus princess, sailed through her econ notes, sipping coffee with a serene air that made her friends envious. She'd kept up with her readings, so now she was reaping the benefits of consistent effort.Lingling, meanwhile, tackled legal precedents and case summaries like she was training for a real court battle. Her color-coded index cards covered half a table in the library, each one a mini masterpiece of bullet points and precision.

This level of composure from the two of them only heightened the midterm despair for the rest of their circle.

Becky and May were another story:

Becky, an accounting major who secretly loathed finance equations, clutched her textbook so tightly her knuckles turned white. "If I see one more formula, I swear I'll switch to art history," she muttered, face pressed to the desk in melodramatic defeat.May, sprawled beside her with a pencil stuck in her hair bun, agreed. "Please take me with you. We can survive on paint fumes and interpretive dance."

Namtan was only slightly better off. She flipped through her notes with a determined expression, occasionally rolling her eyes at Becky's theatrics. "You two are so dramatic," she said, yet there was sympathy in her tone.

From their table, Orm glanced sideways at Lingling, who had barely looked up from her thick law text. They seemed to be the only ones not teetering on the edge of academic doom.

"You think we should help them?" Orm asked, half-grinning.

Lingling turned a page, not even blinking. "Or we could enjoy the show," she said flatly, though the quirk of her mouth betrayed a bit of amusement.

Becky, catching Lingling's comment, shot them a glare. "I hate you both," she declared, though her tone was too exhausted to sound truly venomous.

"Love you too," Orm cooed, winking. Becky groaned in reply.

The campus breathed a collective sigh of relief. Midterms were finally behind them, and for the first time in weeks, students could unburden themselves from textbooks, flashcards, and endless cups of coffee. The atmosphere felt lighter, as though a dark cloud had lifted and everyone was seeing sunshine for the first time.

In one corner of the bustling courtyard, Orm and her friends gathered around their usual bench. Orm wore a triumphant half-smile, while Lingling stood calmly by her side, looking quietly satisfied. Their post-exam results were out, and as usual:

Orm had topped her year in Economics, which came as no surprise to anyone who'd witnessed her steady study habits and razor-sharp mind.Lingling had dominated Law, handily surpassing her peers with her meticulous note-taking and laser-focused concentration.

Their friends, on the other hand, were less than thrilled by their own scores.

Becky, eyes rolling dramatically, flopped onto the bench. "I'm never doing this again," she declared with a weary groan.

May (sometimes called Freen by her close pals) shook her head, expression deadpan. "You say that every semester, Becky," she reminded her.

Namtan sighed, still looking somewhat drained from her exams. "At least we survived."

In an instant, Becky bounced back to life, eyes lighting up with that familiar chaotic sparkle. "You know what this means?"

May, ever suspicious of Becky's grand declarations, narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Becky hopped to her feet in one fluid movement. "We're going clubbing," she announced with a flourish. It was as though midterms had sapped her energy for everything except nightlife.

Namtan let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, it's definitely happening," she agreed, half-amused, half-exasperated.

Orm grinned at the idea. There was an unspoken tradition among them: whenever they survived another round of midterms, they celebrated in style. A night of dancing and music seemed like the perfect antidote to weeks of stress. "Tradition is tradition," she said, folding her arms and shooting Becky a playful look.

Then she turned to Lingling, who stood there with her arms crossed, looking as unruffled as ever. "What about you, baby?" Orm teased. "Coming with us?"

Lingling blinked, clearly taken by surprise at Orm's direct invitation in front of the group.

She'd never been one for noisy crowds or neon-lit dance floors. Ordinarily, she might have refused on principle—until she pictured Orm in a crowded club, surrounded by people who would definitely take notice of the campus princess's charm.

She felt a mild surge of something uncomfortably close to jealousy. The thought of strangers hovering around Orm all night made her jaw tighten. "I'll go" she said calmly, her composure betraying none of the turmoil beneath.

Becky nearly gasped. "Did we just witness history?!" she asked, eyes gleaming.

May whispered an emphatic, "She said yes" as though it were the biggest scandal of the year.

Orm, clearly delighted, leaned in to nudge Lingling. "Changing your mind already?"

Lingling shrugged, her expression neutral. "Just making sure you behave," she said, her tone matter-of-fact but her gaze glinting with territorial protectiveness.

Orm laughed aloud. "I never behave."

Lingling only shook her head. She had a feeling she had no clue what she was about to get herself into—but she was in too deep now to back out.

Later that evening, the group arrived at the club. It was a popular off-campus spot, known for pulsing music, vibrant lights that scanned the dance floor, and a perpetual haze of excitement. Students from every department mingled in half-dark corners or lost themselves to the thrumming bass line. The air smelled of fruity cocktails and too much cologne.

Becky and May rushed in first, disappearing into the crowd with whoops and cheers, while Namtan headed toward the bar to scout for decent seating. Orm sauntered in with the unshakable confidence of someone who'd been here countless times and knew exactly how to have fun. She wore a sleek outfit that hinted at her usual comfortable style but dialed up the allure, her hair framing her face in a way that made her look every inch the "It Girl" she was rumored to be.

The moment she stepped onto the main floor, Orm's entire presence seemed to glow. She greeted a few acquaintances from other faculties, flashing them a smile that lit her eyes. People gravitated toward her, recognizing the campus princess who was both approachable and fiercely charismatic.

Lingling followed, a step behind, taking in the scene with analytical eyes. The music's deep bass thudded in her chest, making conversation nearly impossible. Colored lights flashed across the dance floor, and clusters of students moved in hypnotic rhythm. Lingling had never fancied herself a club person—she preferred quiet corners and calm environments—but tonight she was here for Orm. And she'd protect her if she had to, or at least make sure no one got the wrong idea.

They found Becky and May near a small section of raised seating. Becky was busy balancing two neon cocktails in one hand, handing another to May, who surveyed the scene with a grin. Namtan stood beside them, sipping her own drink with a look of amusement.

"You should own this place" Becky teased Orm, raising her bright pink cocktail in a mock toast.

Orm let out a carefree laugh, turning to Lingling with a slight tilt of her head. "Feels like home" she said, half-joking, half-serious. She'd been coming here for midterm celebrations since first year, after all.

Lingling stayed silent, scanning the crowd. Orm caught the shift in Lingling's posture—her shoulders squared, her jaw set. The flicker in Lingling's eyes suggested she noticed how people's gazes lingered on Orm. The throng of dancers and onlookers—some already tipsy—were obviously enthralled by the girl who'd just breezed in like a queen.

Orm bit back a smile, leaning over to Lingling. "You okay?"

Lingling's voice was low, barely audible above the music. "You're too attractive for your own good" she remarked, deadpan. Orm saw a hint of displeasure flash across Lingling's face when a random stranger glanced over, eyes lingering a beat too long.

Orm's heart warmed, flattered by the possessive undertone in Lingling's words. She slid an arm around Lingling's waist, subtly staking her own claim. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere" she teased, lips close to Lingling's ear.

Lingling exhaled, a faint smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "I'm trying" she admitted, though her gaze still flicked warily around the club.

Becky chugged half her neon concoction, then grabbed May's hand. "Dance with me," she insisted, dragging May toward the dance floor. Namtan rolled her eyes good-naturedly but followed them, determined not to be left out of the fun.

As soon as they hit the throng, Becky and May started moving in time with the pounding beat. Namtan joined, her laughter lost under the bass but evident in her bright smile.

At first, Orm was simply enjoying herself—dancing to the pulsing beat, cracking jokes with friends between songs, and treating them to a round of fruity concoctions that left everyone giggling. She felt buoyant, carefree, fully immersed in the club's neon glow and thumping bass. Then the shots came out, courtesy of Becky's ever-mischievous streak.

By that point, Orm had lost track of how many rounds had circulated. A warm haze settled over her, and adrenaline thrummed in her veins. Her cheeks glowed with heat from both the alcohol and the electric atmosphere.

Becky, noticing Orm's flushed excitement, slurred a teasing remark about "princesses gone wild." Orm just laughed it off, though a small voice in her head warned that she might regret this tomorrow. Still, she couldn't resist the heady rush of confidence flooding her senses.

Meanwhile, Lingling observed from a short distance, arms folded in a casually elegant stance. She sipped her drink at a measured pace, clearly keeping herself in check. Every time Orm glanced her way, Lingling's mouth twitched in a faint smile—an unspoken acknowledgment that Orm was up to something.

Eventually, Orm made her way over to Lingling, brimming with energy. She rested her shoulder against the bar, close enough for their arms to brush. "You know," Orm began, her voice dipping into a playful drawl, "I kinda love seeing you here—out of your comfort zone."

Lingling arched an eyebrow, setting aside her near-finished drink. "Do you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Orm purred, leaning in just enough to catch the subtle citrus scent of Lingling's cologne. "You look so... relaxed. And also really, really hot."

Lingling's eyes flashed with surprise; Orm seldom directed such blunt praise her way in public. "Orm," she said in a low tone, "are you flirting with me in front of half the campus?"

Orm gave a bright, slightly tipsy laugh. "Half the campus? We might be pushing two-thirds." She turned, letting her gaze drift over the dance floor before returning to Lingling. "I can't help it. You're gorgeous."

Lingling felt warmth creep up her neck. She wasn't used to this level of unfiltered attention from Orm. The alcohol had clearly melted Orm's inhibitions, and she was determined to make Lingling acutely aware of her admiration.

Orm edged closer, her body lightly pressing against Lingling's. The steady bass vibrated through the floor beneath their feet. With a lazy smile, she ran her hand down Lingling's arm, then curled her fingers around Lingling's wrist. "You know what I like?" she asked, her voice husky. "I like that you're always calm, but right now, you're—"

Lingling tried to maintain her composure. "I'm what?"

Orm's smirk grew. "A little... undone." She tapped her fingertip against Lingling's knuckles. "Your posture's stiff, and your eyes are kinda blazing. You think I don't notice how tense you are?" Her lips brushed the shell of Lingling's ear, making Lingling swallow. "I can read you, counselor."

Lingling forced herself to remain steady. "And what exactly do you read?" she asked, voice betraying the faintest tremor.

Orm exhaled gently against Lingling's ear. "That you want me to shut up and do something about it."

Lingling's heart gave a hard thump at Orm's boldness. "Maybe," she murmured. "You're certainly... emboldened tonight."

Orm shot her a mischievous grin, eyes gleaming under the flashing lights. "Blame the shots," she teased, "or blame how good you look."

Then, without warning, Orm grabbed Lingling's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. The club was crowded, pulsing lights sweeping across the throng of dancers. Becky and May were off to the side, lost in their own chaos, while Namtan chatted with someone near a table. That left Orm and Lingling a small oasis in the midst of moving bodies.

Orm moved to the rhythm with ease, hips swaying and hair catching the glow of neon strobes. Every so often, she'd hook a finger under Lingling's chin, guiding her face closer for what seemed like an imminent kiss—only to pull back at the last second. Each time, Lingling felt a spike of frustration and longing, which Orm seemed to relish.

"You're playing a dangerous game," Lingling warned, voice pitched low to be heard above the music.

Orm brushed a soft kiss across Lingling's cheek. "I love it. And you love it."

Lingling exhaled, her control slipping a fraction. She looped an arm around Orm's waist, pressing her palm against the small of Orm's back to draw her in. Their bodies aligned, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other in the strobing lights.

Finally, Lingling dipped her head, pressing her mouth to Orm's. It was meant to be a quick taste, but Orm clung to her shoulders, deepening it into something more intense. The noise of the club faded away, leaving the warmth of their bodies, the pounding of their hearts, and the sharp tang of tequila on their lips.

From across the room, Becky and May happened to glance over. Becky nearly dropped her drink, and May's eyes went wide. Namtan, returning from the bar, paused mid-step, smirking at the sight of the two locked in a heated kiss. She leaned toward Becky, whispering something that made Becky gasp, then squeal with delight.

Orm and Lingling eventually broke apart, breathing heavily. Lingling's usual composure faltered, showing unguarded desire before she masked it again. Orm looked dazed, her boldness giving way to a thrilled, bashful smile as she realized her friends (and half the club) might have witnessed that exchange.

Still panting, Orm slid her hands to rest on Lingling's chest—a moment still within PG-13 bounds yet intimate enough to make Lingling's pulse spike. "You... mm," Orm murmured, voice laced with tipsy honesty, "you have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?"

Lingling's smirk resurfaced. "I've heard... rumors," she teased, though a faint flush lingered on her cheeks.

Orm gave a shaky laugh. "I can't think straight when you're around," she admitted, tipping her head to rest against Lingling's shoulder. "You walk in, and my brain just—" She made a small, explosive gesture with her fingers, "—poof, gone."

Lingling chuckled, the vibration resonating through Orm's body. "Must be the drinks talking."

Orm shrugged, lifting her head, her eyes glassy but shining with sincerity. "Maybe. But also... blame me really liking you," she whispered, the last words tumbling out softer, more vulnerable.

"More than I planned."

Lingling's expression softened, warmth threading through her usually cool gaze. She ran a gentle hand up Orm's arm, silently acknowledging the tender confession. "You're going to regret half the things you said," she joked lightly. "But I appreciate the honesty."

Orm shook her head, strands of hair swaying around her cheeks. "No regrets," she insisted, even as a giggle slipped out. She was clearly riding the edge of drunken glee.

Lingling took Orm's hand, threading their fingers. The club's heat, the swirling lights—everything felt too intense for Orm's dazed state. "Come on," she said, leaning in so Orm could hear. "Let's get you home."

Orm pouted but allowed herself to be guided. "But I'm having fun," she mumbled, stumbling a bit when Lingling led her off the dance floor.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," Lingling assured, pressing a soft kiss to Orm's temple. Around them, the club's neon glare and pounding music continued, oblivious to their quiet departure.

Becky, May, and Namtan watched from afar, exchanging grins. They'd likely tease Orm relentlessly in the morning, but for now, they let the two slip away, hand in hand, disappearing into the night's cooler air.

And as they stepped outside, Orm leaned against Lingling, halfway giddy, halfway exhausted. Lingling's steady presence felt like a lifeline—one she was more than happy to cling to, no matter how many shots she'd had.

Orm practically stumbled into her apartment, still riding the high of too many shots and far too much confidence. She was giggling at nothing in particular, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of residual adrenaline and tipsy glee.

Lingling followed her in, taking care to shut the door quietly. She was clinging to her composure, determined not to let Orm's enthusiasm send them both spiraling.

"You're so pretty," Orm announced, whirling around to fix Lingling with a dreamy smile.

Lingling sighed, folding her arms. "You need water, Orm."

But Orm dismissed the suggestion with a lazy wave of her hand. "Do you have any idea," she said, voice dipping, "how hard it is not to kiss you every second I see you?"

For a heartbeat, Lingling's mind blanked. She cleared her throat, willing her heart rate to settle. "You say that like you don't already kiss me every chance you get," she tried, aiming for levity.

Orm stepped closer, eyes darkening. "Not like this," she whispered, and before Lingling could formulate a response, Orm cupped her face and kissed her.

It was slow, deeper than the playful kisses they'd shared at the club. Something about it made Lingling's heart skip a beat—particularly when Orm's hands began to roam lower, heat flaring in their wake. This wasn't just a casual embrace; Orm was actively seducing her, and it was dizzying.

Orm pressed her lips along Lingling's jaw, voice husky. "We could, you know..."

Lingling's breath faltered. She could sense where Orm's thoughts were headed, and it was dangerously tempting. "Orm—" she tried, though her voice came out unsteady.

Orm leaned in, whisper-soft. "I want you."

Everything in Lingling's body hummed at those words. She did too—so much so that for a split second, she let the idea linger, her restraint teetering. But not like this. Not when Orm was buoyed by alcohol and reckless affection.

Mustering one last surge of composure, Lingling broke away, palms firm on Orm's shoulders. She swallowed the warmth pooling in her chest, reminding herself of all the reasons they needed to wait. "Not tonight," she said gently, but with enough firmness to make Orm pause.

Blinking in confusion, Orm murmured, "Why not?"

Lingling pressed a hand to Orm's cheek, running her thumb across the flushed skin. "Because I want our first time to be real," she said quietly. "Not something you won't remember clearly tomorrow."

For a moment, Orm looked on the verge of pouting. But she didn't argue. Instead, she exhaled, letting her head tip forward until it rested against Lingling's shoulder. "You're too good to me," she mumbled, half-asleep already.

Lingling bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Orm's forehead. "Always, baby," she murmured.

Orm's shoulders slumped, and it became clear she was seconds from dozing off on her feet. Concerned, Lingling guided her toward the bedroom. The small lamp on the bedside table provided enough light for them to move around without fumbling. Orm swayed, still clad in her going-out outfit—something far from comfortable for sleeping.

"Let's get you changed," Lingling murmured, hands gentle as she helped Orm out of her top and skirt. Orm giggled drowsily a couple of times, especially when Lingling struggled with a stubborn zipper, but otherwise remained pliant.

Once Orm was in a simple tank top and underwear, she shivered, the night's cool air meeting her bare skin. Lingling fished a large T-shirt from Orm's dresser, then paused at the sight of various makeup items strewn across the vanity—Orm's post-clubbing routine half-complete.

She guided Orm to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hold still," Lingling said, reaching for a pack of wipes on the dresser.

Orm blinked, looking up with a hazy smile. "You're taking off my makeup?"

Lingling nodded, dabbing gently at Orm's cheeks, removing smudged eyeliner and glittery eyeshadow. "You'll thank me tomorrow," she teased lightly, but there was an unmistakable fondness in her voice.

Orm closed her eyes, letting Lingling's soft touches lull her into a half-sleepy state. With slow, careful strokes, Lingling wiped away any lingering mascara, then finished by smoothing a bit of moisturizer on Orm's skin. "All done," she said at last, her voice hushed.

Orm mumbled something incoherent that ended with "thank you," then lifted her arms so Lingling could slip the T-shirt over her head. With a sleepy laugh, Orm collapsed onto the bed, letting Lingling tug the sheets over her.

Lingling eyed her own attire—hardly conducive to a good night's rest. She crossed the room to rummage through Orm's dresser. Taking care not to make too much noise, she picked out a pair of loose shorts and a soft sweatshirt—Orm's clothes, yet again. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she recalled how often she ended up wearing Orm's things. She slipped into the bathroom, changing quickly, then returned to find Orm blinking up at her, half awake.

"You look cute in my stuff," Orm murmured, her voice on the edge of sleep.

Lingling huffed an amused breath. "Thanks," she replied, tugging at the sweatshirt's hem. "It's comfortable."

Orm just smiled, eyes drooping. "Join me," she whispered, patting the empty side of the bed.

Lingling hesitated for a moment. But Orm's pleading gaze and her own exhaustion convinced her. Gently, she climbed in beside Orm, letting the faint lamp glow cast long shadows across the room. Orm snuggled into her, face pressed to Lingling's shoulder.

Orm mumbled, "Sorry if I was too much tonight," her breath warm against Lingling's neck.

Lingling stroked Orm's hair, a soothing motion. "You were just enough," she said softly. "And no harm done." Her lips curved into a smile at the memory of Orm's bold flirting in the club. She couldn't deny a thrill at Orm's candid admiration, though she felt a twinge of relief that they'd postponed any deeper entanglement until Orm was sober.

Orm closed her eyes, murmuring something incoherent that ended in "mm, goodnight." Lingling tugged a blanket over her, then switched off the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Lingling murmured, more to herself than to the sleeping Orm.

Minutes later, Orm's breathing evened out, telling Lingling she was fully asleep. Lingling, however, stayed awake a little longer, gazing at Orm's relaxed face in the soft half-dark. The memory of Orm's whispered confession—I want you—lingered in the back of her mind, stirring up a cocktail of excitement, fondness, and a promise to revisit this conversation when Orm was sober.

Eventually, Lingling allowed her eyes to close. She could face the morning's teasing and Orm's possible embarrassment, but for now, she embraced the contentment of Orm's gentle presence by her side. The night had nearly spiraled into something bigger, but the fact that they'd chosen to wait only made Lingling surer of her feelings.

With a faint smile curving her lips, Lingling drifted off, grateful for a night that almost happened—and certain that, one day soon, it would happen the right way.