I was now standing in frilly panties over my jeans, a pink lei, gray wig, alien headband, and clown nose with Shanti in front of me. I could feel sweat dripping down my back and down my ass crack. Super.

The entire team shouted wild encouragements like “Boob it up, booby!” and “Double Ds for free!”

Among the clamor, Shanti leaned in a little as she fiddled with the straps and asked as casually as possible, “You okay?”

The way she said it—earnestly, honestly, and clearly not drunk at all—melted away some of the steel. I wondered if she’d taken over from Kat because she could see how drunk Kat was. Or maybe… she was just trying to help me out. Any which way, I was kind of glad it was Shanti doing it and not Kat, even though this was all still way outside my comfort zone.

“Go for it.” I tried to lift the corner of my mouth a bit to show her I meant it, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded, since my face was starting to feel numb—from the drinks, but also from sustained tension.

As Shanti draped the straps over my arms and pulled them up toward my shoulders, I could feel her hands shaking. Once she’d gotten the cups against my chest, she made her way behind me and fastened the clasps against my back. She must have felt me strain a bit against the tightness of the bra, because she began loosening it, her fingers gliding between the straps and my shoulders.

Something about the movement made the tension in my face release. And standing there, even with these ridiculous, pointy things extending from my chest, I started to feel a little loosened as well.

Shanti stood in front of me, hands by her sides, inspecting the situation. We looked at the pointy things. We looked at each other. She burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh too. Everyone cheered because everyone was drunk.

Everyone except Kat, who, by the time I glanced over to her, was yelling at the bartender for another drink. She still looked irritated for some reason.

I didn’t have much time to wonder about Kat’s behavior, because Lena was back in my face, shouting.

“WOOOO! The baby bees are ready to roll! Finish your drinks and pay up, honey lovers—we’re leaving in fifteen!”

In the flurry of gulping drinks and negotiating bills that followed, I felt Shanti’s hand on my elbow.

“Hey—sorry about all that.”

I looked at her. Her hand remained on my elbow. I had the urge to move closer to her but fought it. She’d somehow managed to slip into the cracks and that felt dangerous, like I might lose control. “It’s cool. I mean… it’s not,” I muttered. “But it’s fine.” And then: “Is this really a thing?”