nineteen | even across state lines

IN DIONNES DEFENCE, SHE HAD BOOKED HER ANNUAL LEAVE MONTHS BEFORE THE VEGAS TRIP WAS EVEN A THING. While it felt like she'd barely been at home in the last few months—between international travel and all these sporting matches she'd had to attend—it wasn't everyday your older sister had her bachelorette party. Unless your sister got divorced often. . . which, her sister had not.

For all intents and purposes, the Stanley sisters had been inseparable since the day their parents had brought a newborn Dionne home from the hospital. While only two years older then her sister, Lucy had made it her life's mission to protect her sister from the world or, as much of it as she could. The two years Dionne was in primary school and Lucy already in high school had been torture for the pair. It was the first time the duo had experienced any sort of distance (until adulthood, that is). Their grandmother (god rest her soul) had always described them as 'two peas in a pod'. Dionne had always liked that phrase growing up.

Leaving for university in Queensland had been one of the hardest things Dionne had ever done. Not because of the city she'd be leaving behind—as much as she loved Melbourne—or her high school friends and boyfriend but because of Lucy. Watching her sisters life unfold through screens and photographs had been torture—for both sides. Lucy had tried to make trips up to Brisbane and Dionne down South but the trips spread thinner and thinner until it was almost just an annual thing. Sure, they called and texted at almost every minute of everyday but nothing could quiet beat the feeling of her sisters warm embrace.

After how much her life was seeming to spiral, a trip down to Melbourne with the intent to party non-stop with her sister was exactly what she needed. Timothee had tried to ask if she could postpone her trip, saying that if they stopped the consistency with their content fit one week their engagement may never be the same. She'd told him she empathised, her leave had been booked and approved before her promotion (and the fuck do you reschedule your own sisters bachelorette party).

So, there she was, in her sisters disorganised bathroom with 2000s RnB blasting as she did her makeup. A week with stupid NRL, maybe she could even fit in an AFL game while she was here (maybe sleep with one of them to even out the score, too).

"Ugh, I can't believe i'm getting married," slurred her sister as she stumbled into the bathroom, bottle of vodka loosely gripped between her ringed fingers. "Isn't that crazy?"

Dionne hummed in agreement, grinning at the sight of her sister in the background of her reflection. "I'm just surprised it's taken Dan this long to propose," she quipped. "I swear he's been planning your wedding since high school."

Lucy stared down at her bottle dreamily. "He probably has. . ." she gushed, tucking some stray hands behind her ear.

Spraying a final lot of setting spray, Dionne spun around to face her sister. "How do I look?"

Lucy grinned at her, toothy smile having not changed since they were twelve and ten. "Perfect. As always," she whispered, flattening her sisters fly aways. "Are we getting this party started or not?" She shouted suddenly as a knock on the door came.

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(@dionnestanley via instagram stories!)

viewed by reecewalsh

viewed by jordanriki

viewed by xaviercoates

IT WAS UNLIKE DIONNE TO END UP AT A CLUB TWO WEEKENDS IN A ROW. But, at least this time she was feeling much less venerable. Her one-night-stand seemed to give her a sense of clarity (and shame) that was going to save her from making the same mistake two weekends in a row. That is, if Lucy didn't stop force feeding her shots.

"Drink up, bitch!" She screamed over the Pitbull song that boomed in the background, pushing a shot glass towards her younger sister. So much for being a good example.

Dionne sniffed the glass, the potent smell of vodka filling her senses and she almost gagged. Though, not wanting to be the odd one out of the group, she scarfed down the clear liquid. It burned as it travelled down her system and she coughed into her arm, trying to expel the taste.

Before she even had the chance to process anything, her sister was dragging her onto the dance floor again. An army of her friends were with them; Lucy had always been the popular one, the one who people flocked to. With an arm strewn around her best friends shoulder, screaming the lyrics in each others faces, Dionne could help but smile. Almost stumbling over herself, she pulled her phone out to snap some photos of her sisters wild state.

Taking a step back to get a better angle, she felt her back collide with someone and heard the sloshing sound of a drink going everywhere. Shoulders tensing, she turned to face her victim. Nothing—and she means absolutely nothing—could've prepared her for the pair of brown eyes she turned to face. "What the fuck are you doing here?" She found herself saying before her mind even had a chance to process this.

Patty frowned, staring down at the slender brunette girl. Her tried his best to look into her eyes and not down her cleavage ridden shirt—why must she torture him with a lace corset top? It just simply wasn't fair. "I had a game. . . ?" He shouted, tilting his head to the side. "Shouldn't you know that kinda information?"

How on earth had that slipped her mind? He was right, she should've known that. Not only was it her literal job but she'd literally written a piece predicting the outcome of the game only three days ago. She didn't say anything back for a second, just staring up at him. Her mind was too blurry for her to come up with a smart retort.

After a moment, her gaze dropped to the puddle of beer he was still standing in. "I'll buy you a new one," she told him, catching him off guard and tugging at his sleeve for him to follow her to the bar.

"You don't have to—"

"Hurry up, Patrick. I don't have all night," she shouted, cutting him off and tugging him harder.

He couldn't help but smile at the back of her head as he followed her up the stairs and away from the crowd to the least busy bar of the club. The music was less loud here and he could actually hear his own thoughts. Pulling her debit card out of her back pocket, she finally looked at him again. "So, what were you drinking?" She gestures to the empty glass he was still holding.

Scratching his head, he shrugs. She tried not to stare at the way his biceps that flexed as he did so, not trusting herself to show restraint. "Seriously, I can buy my own—"

"Don't," she held a hand up to silence him. "Just tell me the drink."

"Great Northern," he huffed, shaking his head at her as he tried to bite back a smile. Patty had to remind himself who she was (or should he say who she wasn't). This wasn't a girl he should be allowing himself to smile admirably at.

Not letting go of his sleeve, he was jolted back to reality as she dragged him up to the bar. He tried not to laugh as she rested her head on the wood, barely being able to see over the counter. He had to mentally slap himself—not her.

His hand was pulled up onto the wood with her arms and she used him as a head rest while she waited for the bartender to come to them. Patty didn't know whether to rip his hand away or not. "So, did you win at least?" She shouted after a moment, bored with waiting.

She turned her head to look at him. "Nah," he sighed, moving closer so his arm wasn't so strained. "We didn't," he said, a bitter edge to his voice.

Dionne pouted. "Lame," she replied before looking around him. "Where's the rest of your team then?"

Patty shrugged. "Somewhere around here, we weren't really supposed to be out but everyone needed a pick-me-up," he explained, trying not to stare at the fact that she was now playing with the hand she'd taken hostage. Hairs raised on his arms as she trailed her fingers up and down his knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of his. "What are you doing here? I didn't see you at the game."

"It's my sisters Hen-Do," she told him proudly, beaming up at him. He tensed as her body brushed up against him, she was clearly past the point of having much of a depth perception.

He shifted so there was a bit of space between them, though he let her still have free reign of his right hand. "Sister, aye?" It was one of those rare moments where he actually learnt a fact about her and he was for sure going to store the information for later.

"Older," she confirmed, eyeing the bartender who hadn't stopped flirting with a group of girls since they'd started waiting. "I'm not sure you're ever getting your drink," she grumbled.

Patty laughed at her annoyance. "It's really okay," he insisted. "Don't you want to get back to your sister?"

"Why're you so against a free drink?"

"I wouldn't say it's free, you're just replacing one I already paid for," he retorted and she squinted at him.

She took her head off the bar—still not letting his hand go, however—to flare up at him properly. "Do I have to buy two so we're even?"

"Not sure what maths you did to get to that conclusion," he replied, brushing some strands of hair out of her face. He's not sure what brought him to do it (the count of how many drinks he'd down before running into her ran across his mind, however) but he had a full body reaction when she leant into him. Her eyes closed at his touch and he felt himself cupping her cheek.

A cough behind them made the pair jump apart; finally Patty's hand was his again. "What can I get you?" The bartender deadpanned, looking at them with the most annoying expression Patty had ever seen a bartender wear.

"Two pints of Great Northerns and a Guava Cruiser," she shouted, leaning over the bar so he could hear her order clearly. Patty couldn't help but scoff at her drink of choice.

He placed a hand on her lower back—again, his body was on autopilot or something—to get her attention. Leaving down to whisper in her ear, he said, "Cruisers? Really?"

She held her card between her fingers like a cigarette. "My sisters forced me to take so many shots, I need something light," she rebutted, accepting the glass bottle from the bartender before he went to go pour the pints.

"That's what they all say," he scoffed. Patty's hand rounded her hip, grinning the fabric of her dress, the fabric was so thin it felt like he was grabbing her bare skin. He tried to remember why this was a bad idea but drew a blank.

As the bartender handed the two tall glasses, Dionne grand ahold of his shirt and pulled him with her to a couch in a dark corner near the bar. He didn't protest. "Making sure I finish them both?" He joked, letting the couch swallow them.

Dionne giggled—like, she actually giggled. He's not sure he's ever heard her giggle like that. . . so girlish sounding. He liked the way her features looked when she was like this; her eyes were brighter and her cheeks were pinker. "Be lucky I didn't ask him to spit in it," she retorted, throwing her legs over his thighs as if he were her own personal foot rest.

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows at her as he took a big gulp of the golden liquid, emptying the glass halfway already. As he moved the glass away, she noticed the foam that mixed with his moustache.

Not really giving it much thought, she leant forward and pressed a thumb against his upper lip as she wiped the liquid away. By this point, she was practically in his lap now. Feeling brave and not enjoying the feeling of her shoe digging into his thigh, he wrapped his hands around her torso and positioned her so she was basically straddling him. Noticing the raised brow, he said. "Your heel was cutting into me."

She put her hands over her face, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she slurred, not meaning to grind down onto him.

Patty froze under her movement, trying to think of anything but the pressure she was putting on his crotch. He reached out, pulling her hands away from her face. "This is better anyways," he told her in a low voice. "Right?"

She stared at him, taking in his face before blurting out. "Melbournes my city, you know?" She added, "it's weird running into you here, of all people."

"Rather I was someone else?"

Her thighs tightened around his waist, making him let out an involuntary groan. "Not at this moment, no," she admitted, planting her hands on either of his shoulder. "Would you prefer I was someone else?"

His hand snaked up her thigh, resting at the very high hemline of her dress. "Not in the slightest," he practically growled, pulling her down against him again.Her fingernails left an indent in his shoulders at the friction against his jeans and her underwear. She was grateful this was a pretty deserted part of the club.

His mouth moved against her neck as she buried her face in his. "You look so hot tonight, Di," he mumbled against her skin when he was done leaving his mark. He pulled back enough for them to be face to face again. "I really wanna kiss ya," he admitted after a series of very prolonged eye contact. "Can I?"

Rather then saying yes in the traditional way, she pressed her mouth against his instead. He let out a very loud groan against her as he kissed her right back, hands now gripping her ass tightly. She continued to bob up and down against him, making him lose his mind every-time she came back down.

He was sure he'd died and gone to heaven at some point. Every second he got closer and closer. Before his hands could even find their way under her clothes, a shrieking voice made her head snap up.

"Dionne—!" A girl looking like a spitting image of the brunette appeared, stumbling towards them. She wore a pink sash over her white mini dress that read 'Bride to be'. "You little whore!"

At the sound of her sisters voice, Dionne froze as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. "Oh. . . my god. . ." She whispered, looking down horrified at Patty.

He wanted to protest as she climbed off of him, he wanted to pull her back against him but he didn't. "I thought you were done with club hookups after. . ." her sisters voice trailed off as she looked Patty up and down, a hint of familiarity dawned on her face. "Wait—! You're. . ."

"Jesus," he huffed, looking at Dionne indignantly before her sister could voice the connection she'd made. "How many fucking people did you tell about us?"

Dionne opened her mouth open before closing it again, resembling a goldfish. With a new sense of clarity, Patty downed the rest of his drink before brushing past them, trying to ignore the pain in his pants from walking away from her.

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🌸 karla yaps !

lowkey, this chapter feels misplaced but it was really fun to write so i don't even care & im trying to follow the actual draw of games the broncos had irl so sue me. this also gave me flashbacks to jordan & ali vibes <3333 (they're my roman empire if u can't tell)

this one goes out to i08ren  for harassing this out of me so everyone can thank her.

also kinda off topic but i started reading the boys of tommen series because i saw a tik tok fan casting jordan riki as johnny kavanagh. i've been binge reading that for the last few days instead of writing. anyways, those books have somewhat inspired the writing choices in this chapter.

also let's set a goal to get this to 1k votes sometime... soon & i'll keep writing long chapters like this. i believe y'all are capable 🫡🫡🫡