Chapter 15
Snowballs and First Kisses
CALEB
Inever thought I'd die in a snowball fight, but here we are.
Crouched behind a snow barricade, chest heaving, sweat freezing on my forehead despite being indoors, wondering how life has come to this.
And by "this," I mean hiding from flying projectiles with James, who's too-gorgeous-for-my-sanity Hunter pressed close against my side, both of us breathing hard and covered in melting snow.
The problem is that James is breathing hard.
That's it. That's the whole problem. Because my brain, helpful, rational organ that it is, has decided that sweaty, panting James crouched beside me is functionally identical to sweaty, panting James in bed.
Now I'm having thoughts that are wildly inappropriate for our current snow-covered, fully clothed situation.
Stop. Do not go there. This is a snowball fight, not a fantasy.
Too late. Already there. Already imagining what he'd sound like making those same breathless noises in an entirely different context. Preferably, one involving significantly less clothing.
Or like no clothing at all. Shit. Stop thinking about naked James!
Brilliant. Just brilliant. I've been reduced to having horny thoughts during a frat house snow war. If this is what fake dating does to a person, I'm filing a complaint.
It all starts after we drop off the Christmas tree at the frat house.
The guys are buzzing with holiday sugar-fueled energy as they prop the massive tree in the corner of the common room, promising to decorate it later that night.
I'm fully prepared to bow out and catch up on my Contract Law reading when Drew, still wearing that ridiculous Santa hat, claps his hands for attention.
"Phase two of Operation Yuletide Brotherhood!" he announces.
Gavin whoops. Tyler grins. I contemplate jumping out the window.
"The university's indoor snowball arena opens today," Drew continues. "I've booked us a slot at five. Proceeds go to the community involvement fund."
"The what now?" I whisper to James..
"They truck in literal tons of snow and build these arena things in the old field house," James explains, looking equally unenthusiastic. "It's new this year."
"And we're going because...?"
"Because Drew will physically drag us if necessary," James says with a resigned sigh. "Trust me. Resistance is futile."
That's how, an hour later, I find myself bundled up inside the university field house, which has been transformed into a winter wonderland on steroids.
The enormous space is divided into four "arenas," each with elaborate snow barricades, bunkers, and piles of pre-made snowballs.
Staff in elf hats are directing groups to their assigned areas.
"This is..." I trail off, searching for the right word.
"Ridiculous?" James offers.
"I was going to say 'excessive,' but that works too."
Drew leads us to Arena 3, where, to absolutely no one's surprise, the Theta Pi Nu sorority is waiting. Emily stands front and center, hands on her hips, flanked by at least fifteen sorority sisters in matching purple beanies.
"Well, well, well," Emily calls, a mischievous grin on her face. "If it isn't the boys of Delta Psi Omega, ready for their annual humiliation."
"Annual? This event just started, didn’t it?" My question isn't as quiet as I would have liked it when Emily's eyes swing my way.
"Emily likes to establish dominance early," James whispers. "Just go with it."
Drew steps forward, spreading his arms. "Ladies! So glad you could make it to witness our superior snowball skills."
The sorority sisters boo good-naturedly while Emily rolls her eyes. "In your dreams, Jones. My girls have been practicing."
"They've been practicing throwing snowballs?"
"Theta Pi Nu takes competition seriously," James explains. "Last year, they demolished us in the charity volleyball tournament. Emily ran drills for weeks."
Leaning towards James again. "I thought Drew and Emily recently started dating?"
"They have this whole on and off again thing. I don't get it. Once you break up with someone, that's it… I mean, it's in the word, isn't it? Break?"
James nods as Gavin begins dividing us into positions: forward attackers, the defensive line, and snipers. Somehow, James and I both end up designated as "right flank specialists," whatever that means.
"If Emily's on the other team, we're screwed," Mark mutters. "Drew won't let anyone target her."
"Facts," Noah agrees. "Remember capture the flag? He put Ian in a headlock for tagging her."
Drew overhears and groans. "Look, guys—"
"Don't worry, boys," Emily interrupts, sauntering over to our huddle. "I am absolutely fair game." She pokes Drew in the chest. "In fact, if you don't come at me with everything you've got, everyone's gonna know how weak DPO really is."
"Ooooooh!" Her sorority sisters holler behind her.
Drew's smile turns predatory as he catches Emily's finger. "Is that a challenge, Baker?"
"That's a promise," she shoots back, then grabs his collar and pulls him down for a quick, fierce kiss. When she releases him, she smacks his ass and laughs. "I'm coming for you, Jones."
Drew's eyes darken. "That's for after the game."
Hoots and hollers erupt from both teams as Emily saunters back to her sisters.
"Well, that was borderline inappropriate," the comment is directed at James, who's trying not to laugh.
"Welcome to the Drew and Emily Show," he says. "They were like this in freshman year, and it's only gotten worse since they got back together."
As we get into position, I can't help wondering what it'd be like to have that with someone, to joke around in front of everyone, to be so secure together that everything else is fun and games.
James and I take our places behind the right-side barricade as the staff member in the elf hat raises a whistle.
"You any good at this?" James asks, eyeing the pile of snowballs at our feet.
"I have two older brothers and a family estate in Vermont," I deadpan. "I've been in snowball fights that would qualify as war crimes."
The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Good to know."
The whistle blows, and chaos erupts.
Snowballs fly in every direction as both teams charge forward. The sorority sisters prove immediately that they haven't been bluffing about practice; their throws are coordinated and accurate, focusing on taking out our front line first.
"Duck!" The yell comes as a snowball whistles past James's ear. He drops in time, giving me a clear shot at the thrower, a tall girl with a fierce pitching arm. My snowball catches her square in the shoulder, and she curses colorfully before retreating.
"Nice shot," James says, sounding genuinely impressed.
"I told you, Vermont winters. Brutal." Grabbing two more snowballs, I point to my next target. "Cover me?"
He nods, and we fall into a rhythm without needing to discuss it. I advance and throw while he creates a diversion, then we switch. Within minutes, we've moved to a better position, working together as if we've been doing this for years.
"Left side!" James calls. I spin and nail an approaching sorority sister who's been trying to flank us.
"Behind the blue barrier!" I point. James launches a perfect arc that catches two girls as they try to set up a sniper position.
Across the arena, Drew and Emily are engaged in their own personal battle, trash-talking the entire time. Gavin is leading a charge up the center, his size and reach making him practically unstoppable.
"We're actually winning," James says with surprise, ducking back behind our barricade to restock on ammunition.
"Don't jinx it," I warn them around a smile. There's something enjoyable about this silly game, especially with James next to me, his normally serious face all lit up and competitive, snowflakes stuck in his hair.
That's when everything changes.
"Well, would you look at that," comes a sneering voice from the arena entrance. "Delta Pussy Omega is playing with the girls. How appropriate."
I turn to see a group of guys in red jackets, Epsilon Beta Mu, the homophobic frat next door. Their president, a thick-necked jerk named Chad, because of course his name is Chad, leads about ten of his brothers into the space.
"We booked the next slot," Chad announces, tossing a snowball between his hands. "But why wait when there's such an entertaining little game going on?"
Before anyone can respond, he hurls his snowball directly at me. I dodge, but the intention is clear.
"Hey!" Drew steps forward, Emily at his side. "This is our time slot."
"Relax, Jones," Chad smirks. "We're warming up. Unless you're scared of a little competition?"
Several EBM brothers have already grabbed snowballs, and one launches one that hits James in the chest. He stiffens but doesn't react.
Emily and Drew exchange a look. Then Emily turns to her sorority sisters.
"Change of plans, ladies," she calls out. "Temporary alliance with DPO against these assholes. You in?"
A chorus of agreement rises from the purple-hatted women.
Drew nods to us. "New formation. Guys, partner with the Thetas. James, Caleb, take the right flank. Gavin, Tyler, left. Everyone else, center push."
Just like that, the two rival teams merge into one, quickly reorganizing against the common enemy.
"Aww, look at that," Chad mocks. "The fags and the fag-hags teaming up."
A snowball smashes into his chest so hard it knocks him back a step. Turning, I find James already loading another, his expression terrifyingly calm.
"Ten bucks says I can hit him in the mouth next time," he says conversationally.
"Twenty says I can hit him where it really hurts." I grab a particularly dense snowball and let it fly. Direct hit! Chad's got one hand on his face and the other cupping his now ice-coated crotch.
The battle that follows is less of a friendly game and more like an actual war.