Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
But I know I won’t.
Can’t.
Mustn’t.
Shouldn’t.
6
“My brothers, your king has arrived!” I yell as I walk in the back door of the Kappa house a few hours later. I’ve decompressed from my meeting with Edward and I’ve talked to Mom. I’m loose and feeling good, especially after a workout with my guys and my second shower.
Music thumps from the speakers overhead, and I hear pledges yelling from various parts of the house as they greet me in the way they’ve been taught. “Welcome home, Mr. President! May we get you anything?”
“I’m good!” I shout back, smiling. Damn, I love pledges and the bonding experiences. Last week I gave them an exercise. You have twenty-four hours to bring a stick to the house. Whoever brings the smallest stick is fucked. Parker rolled in with a log on a tractor trailer. We gave him his own special recliner in the basement.
My freshman year, I was the “backpack pledge” and had to carry a kid’s SpongeBob Squarepants bag to class for an entire semester. It had to remain unzipped at all times. My brothers packed it full of condoms, KY jelly, and leaflets about safe sex. When I walked into class, people swarmed me. I probably saved hundreds from STDs and dry intercourse.
Crew was the “fruit pledge.” It started with taking grapes everywhere he went, like they were his baby. Oranges were next, then cucumbers, until he ended with carting a watermelon in a wagon. He drew a smiley face on it. We loved that watermelon. Named him Wally.
Hollis was the “weather pledge.” Every day at 5 AM, he had to get up and do a Snapchat of the forecast. He also had to jump up and down in place for two minutes any time someone on campus asked about the weather. Everyone did.
I laugh. Good times.
The kitchen is dead except for Benji, who’s currently lip-locked with a girl. She’s sitting on the table and he’s between her legs. His shirt is gone; she’s fully dressed. Must have just started.
“Yo. I said, ‘I’m home.’” I toss my backpack and laundry on the floor and it makes a loud thump. My gaze catches on our Greek crest painted on the wall. Black and gold with a lion in the middle, the words loyalty and service etched above it. I brush my fingers over them.
True to yourself.
True to your brothers.
Always.
But I could use a reminder today.
“Just pretend I’m not here,” I muse as I ease around Benji and the girl.
She moans, her hands curling in his blond hair. He murmurs, “Oh, yeah” and kisses her throat.
I cough. “But, you know, I am right here.”
Benji pops an eye open, and I read the laughter in his gaze.
My stomach rumbles. “And I’m going to eat dinner because I’m starving. So, if you want to put on a show, I’m willing. But…” I hold up a finger. “First, you have a room. It’s across the hall from mine. It’s rare for a junior to have a room, and you got that room because I vouched for you. I’m your magical connection.” Another finger goes up. “Second, we have a den. And a basement. And plenty of bathrooms. I really want to eat without your moaning as a soundtrack. Third, must I continue, or will you move your ass to a private location?”
He pulls back from the dazed Delta. Dude is a player, and my best friend besides Crew and Hollis. He gives the girl a quick kiss then taps her nose. “Thanks for agreeing to do my paper. I’ll text you the theme, something about greed and capitalism. Make it sparkle.” He brushes his hand over her cheek and gives her a smile. “You have no idea how much it means to me, babe.”
She simpers. “I can read American Psycho. Anything for you,” she says breathily. “You’ll be my date at the toga party, right?”
“You bet.”
Good God. He’s a genius.
At this point, perhaps I should be considering asking a girl—there are plenty who would jump at the chance—but deep down, I want to do my own work. I have to prove that I can. And I’m not a cheater, no matter what Whitman thinks.
Benji straightens her shirt. “Catch you later?”
“Call me.” She fixes her hair and flounces out the door.
He watches her go, then gives me a victorious smile as he snatches up his shirt and tugs it back over his head. “My paper is going to be awesome. She’s a whiz apparently. Feels good to get that monkey off my back.”
“Do you even like this girl?”
He looks offended. “I’m not that much of a douche.”
I arch a brow. Both of us are notorious for our brief relationships. Easy come, easy go. No one gets their heart trampled and we all move on. My longest relationship (six months) was with Blair. We met at freshman orientation and I fell hard. We were exclusive—until she screwed Dex, one of my pledge brothers, while I was at a bowl game. They were drunk. Supposedly. Not an excuse. Please.