Chapter 3
Handcuffed
JAMES
By Friday evening, the frat house is buzzing with the brand of chaotic energy that only comes from twenty university guys cramming for midterms while simultaneously planning their next weekend adventures.
The Delta Psi Omega house has this lived-in feel tonight, pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen counter, someone's textbooks scattered across the dining room table, and the faint sound of a video game battle echoing from the basement.
Things have finally settled into what passes for normal around here since the whole Tyler-Ethan breakup drama.
The awkward tension that had everyone walking on eggshells has evaporated, replaced by the usual comfortable chaos of fraternity life.
Tyler and Ethan are disgustingly, tooth-rottingly in love. The kind of couple that makes single guys want to find someone and also throw things at them.
Right, because what I need is someone to witness my sparkling personality up close and personal. 'Hello, fancy spending your evenings with a guy who'd rather rewrite code than have a conversation?' Brilliant dating profile.
They've reached that stage where they can't seem to exist in the same room without some form of physical contact. They’re always holding hands, Tyler's arm slung over Ethan's shoulders, or Ethan absently playing with Tyler's fingers while they talk to other people.
It's nauseating in the most endearing way possible.
Drew, Marcos, and, surprisingly, Emily, Drew's ex-now-new-again girlfriend, are planning the winter fundraiser, and I'm left to my usual task of keeping our digital presence from imploding.
Someone's already managed to post a TikTok with our address visible in the background, and the donation page keeps timing out because nobody remembers their login credentials.
Plus, Rex accidentally tagged our Instagram in three different porn bot accounts this week,
"James!" Gavin's voice booms down the hallway. "There you are!"
Bracing myself as he bursts into the common room, his golden retriever energy in full force. "What's the emergency this time?"
"No emergency," he chirps. "Just wanted to remind you that the house meeting is in ten minutes."
"I'm aware." Not bothering to look up from my laptop. "I sent the calendar reminder to everyone."
"Right, but you always pretend to forget." He drops onto the couch beside me with a grin. "Drew said this one's important. Mandatory attendance."
Sighing, I save my work. "When Drew says 'important,' he usually means 'I'm going to volunteer all of you for something.'"
"Probably," Gavin says, grinning. "But that's part of the fun, right?"
Fun isn't the word I'd choose, but I've learned it's easier to go along with our President's schemes than fight them. Three years in DPO has taught me that much.
Gradually, the rest of the brothers filter into the common room. Tyler and Ethan arrive hand-in-hand, still in the honeymoon phase of their reconciliation. Drew and Marcos are deep in conversation, no doubt finalizing whatever plans they're about to spring on us.
Jaren bounds in with his usual energy, heading straight for the coffee pot before dropping into a seat near the front.
He's got a textbook tucked under his arm, something about adolescent psychology, and seems completely unbothered by whatever drama is about to unfold.
That's Jaren in a nutshell: perpetually prepared and perpetually cheerful about it.
Caleb arrives last, slipping in quietly and taking a seat in the corner, as far from me as possible.
Jaren glances over at his roommate and offers a friendly wave, which Caleb acknowledges with the barest nod before pointedly looking elsewhere.
The contrast between them is almost comical, Jaren's open friendliness bouncing right off Caleb's carefully constructed walls.
We've been avoiding each other without talking about it for weeks now. After our quick chat at 3 AM, he seems to think I'm not worth talking to, which works for me. The fewer people I have to deal with, the better.
"Alright, listen up!" Drew calls, commanding the room's attention with practiced ease. "I've got a few announcements before we get to the main agenda."
I tune out as he goes through the usual updates, upcoming events, house maintenance issues, and academic reminders. It's only when he mentions my name that I snap back to attention.
"James has updated our website with the winter fundraising information," Drew says. "Great job on that, by the way. The donation page looks sick."
A quick nod, then back to the screen. Let the newer members look surprised all they want. I don't know why he's so shocked. Yes, I occasionally do things well; no need to make a big deal of it.
"Now for the main item," Drew continues, his expression growing more serious. "After discussing with the executive committee, we've decided to implement some changes to how we operate as a fraternity."
A ripple of whispers passes through the room. Changes are rarely popular.
"It's come to my attention that some of our brothers are falling through the cracks," Drew says, his gaze briefly sweeping over me and then Caleb. "We're so busy with classes and events that we're not actually connecting as a fraternity."
Oh shit. I know where this is heading.
"Starting next week, attendance at Sunday dinners will be mandatory for all brothers," he announces. "No exceptions unless you're literally in the hospital."
The protests start immediately. Tyler raises his hand. "What about those of us who have standing plans with significant others?"
"Bring them," Drew says simply. "Fraternity dinners include family."
"I work Sunday nights," Caleb points out from his corner.
"Adjust your schedule," Drew replies, unmoved. "This isn't about food, it's about making sure no one in this fraternity is isolated or unsupported."
His gaze lands on me again, more pointed this time. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Just because I prefer my own company doesn't mean I need an intervention.
"Additionally," Drew continues over the grumbles, "we're implementing a mentor system for the newer members. Each pledge will be paired with an established brother who'll check in regularly and help them navigate fraternity life."
This announcement brings even louder protests. Babysitting freshmen is not what anyone signed up for.
"The pairings have already been decided," he says firmly. "And before you ask, no, they're not negotiable." He picks up a list from the coffee table. "I'll read them out now."
My brain tunes out again as he goes through the names, confident that I've dodged this particular bullet. As the Webmaster, I'm not exactly brotherhood material. My job is to maintain our digital presence, not hold hands with newbies.
"And finally," Drew says, "James will be mentoring Caleb."
My head snaps up. "What?"
Across the room, Caleb looks equally horrified. "You can't be serious."
Drew smiles like he's doing me a favour, settling back in his chair the way he does when the discussion's over and he's just waiting for the rest of us to realize it. "Dead serious. You're both talented with design and technology; it's a natural fit."
"I don't need a mentor," Caleb argues. "I'm a junior, not some clueless freshman."
"And I don't have time to babysit," I say flatly. No sugarcoating, no apology in the tone.
"That's exactly the attitude this new system is designed to address," Drew says, his tone making it clear the discussion is over. "You'll both make time. The first mentor-mentee event is the Winter festival next weekend. All pairs are expected to attend at least three hours together."
Caleb and I lock eyes across the room, mutual dismay creating a momentary connection. His expression quickly shifts to a glare, as if this is somehow my fault. Right. Glaring back seems appropriate.
Great. Just great. Not only am I forced to attend mandatory dinners, but now I'm stuck shepherding the sullen rich kid through fraternity bonding exercises.
Drew, seemingly oblivious to the death stares being exchanged, cheerfully moves on to the next topic. "Now, about the Winter carnival..."
As he outlines yet another mandatory event, I realize my carefully structured existence is about to be thoroughly disrupted. All my efforts to maintain distance while still belonging to something, the perfect balance I've cultivated for three years, was gone in one house meeting.
Across the room, Caleb's expression mirrors my own internal horror: his jaw is tight, his shoulders rigid, and he's staring at Drew as if he's just announced we'll be handcuffed together for the semester.
His dark slouchy clothes and surprisingly immaculate posture can't hide the way his hands clench in his lap, knuckles going white as he tries to keep it together.
For a brief moment, our eyes meet again, and I see my own frustration reflected back at me.
We're both thinking the same thing: this is a disaster of epic proportions.
The grumpy computer guy who prefers machines to people, paired with the grumpy pre-law student who treats social interaction like a necessary evil.
Grumpy vs Grumpy… What could possibly go wrong?