Chapter Four Saylor
Chapter Four
Saylor
“I don’t know, Saylor. I’ve never been much into frat parties,” Chessly said.
“Come on, Chess. It’s going to be a great time—even better than dancing on a tabletop in your favorite hometown bar.” I exaggerated a wink.
“My hometown only has one bar. Wait. What do you know about that?” she hissed, shooting a glance toward a table full of underclassmen seated next to us.
Between classes, we’d met up in the Union for coffee.
I needed reinforcements for the SCR party this weekend, which I was hoping would be Chessly.
Jamaica and Callahan had said they’d be there, but they’d be together.
I doubted I’d be able to talk Jamaica into doing naughty things with me like shots and flirting with masked men.
Piper was a maybe, depending on how things were going with Bax, which meant if she showed, she’d show up with a plus-one. No fun to be had there.
“Everyone wears Mardi Gras masks. I found a couple of super-sexy ones on eBay. You can choose which one you want to wear.” I pulled up the pics on my phone and showed her.
“The hot-pink one would look gorgeous on you, especially if we piled your hair in curls on the top of your head with a couple slipping down the side of your neck.” Handing her my phone, I lifted my hair and leaned beside the photo to show her what I meant.
“You could wear your sweet black cocktail dress and borrow my hot-pink cross-strap Mary Jane stilettos.” It was all I could do not to bounce in my chair with excitement as I envisioned my friend in the outfit.
With her blonde hair and her petite frame, she’d knock out every guy with a pulse at the party.
“Saylor.” She dragged my name out to four syllables.
“Yeah, yeah. Frat parties aren’t your scene. Blah, blah, blah.” I peeked up at her from beneath my brows. ”The last time you went to an SCR party with me, I had to drag you out of it to avoid us being the very last ones to leave.”
Chess pursed her lips, and I put up my hand.
“You know I’m right. You had so much fun playing darts, drinking, and flirting with my boys that you wanted to stay the night.” I touched my coffee cup to hers and took a drink.
“Your pink Mary Jane stilettos, huh? What are you going to wear?”
Throwing my hands in the air, I squealed. “Yes! You’re going with me! We’re going to have the best time.”
Chess rolled her eyes at my enthusiasm, but a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. The girls at the table next to ours stopped talking to stare at us. I did a little dance in my chair, letting go of my worry about Chess rejecting my invitation—and maybe to give those underclassmen a show.
“What are you wearing?” she asked me again.
“The electric-blue mask I showed you just now and my black cocktail dress.”
Chess shook her head. “You have a different little black dress for every occasion. Which one are you planning for this particular party?”
“The one with the cap sleeves, sweetheart neckline, and flounce at the knees. I’m going to need that flounce to complement my shoes.” Over the top of my coffee, I batted my lashes, begging her to ask.
“Did you buy new shoes?”
“Oh, Chess. Wait till you see them. The color matches my mask, and they’re so over-the-top.
I absolutely adore them.” Again I bounced in my seat with excitement.
“They’re satin stilettos covered in dozens of frothy electric-blue roses.
” Covering my heart with my hand, I sighed. “They’re to die for.”
Across the table my friend smiled indulgently.
“We’re going to be the hottest single ladies at the party,” I gushed. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday afternoon. We can grab some food and get ready together at my place.”
“Most of the time, I think of you as the Energizer Bunny. Right now, you’re more like Tigger.” Chessly laughed. “I can’t decide if it’s a blessing or a curse that I can never resist you when you’re like this.”
“A blessing. Definitely,” I said with a sage nod. “Otherwise, you’d hole up in your dorm room and spend the weekend doing something ridiculous like solving calculus equations just because you can.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? Solving calculus problems relaxes me.” Pulling out her phone, she checked the time. “Speaking of problem solving, I have a physics quiz in fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah. Time for me to head to class too.”
We stood from our table simultaneously. When we passed the table with the underclassmen, I gifted them my most radiant smile. “The entertainment was on the house,” I said as I chucked my empty coffee cup into the trash on the other side of their table.
Two of the girls had the good manners to turn pink, while the third eyed me with a sardonically raised brow.
That one move gave me the idea she might be a Delta Chi, the sorority with an earned reputation for drawing all the mean girls, with Chessly and Jamaica’s nemesis Tory Miller topping the list.
When she opened her mouth, she confirmed my suspicions. “You’re going to the Mardi Gras Masquerade Ball?” she asked in a disbelieving tone. “I mean, you might fit in, but”—she gave Chessly a once-over—“your friend isn’t going to fit in at all. The SCRs have standards.”
“You know some SCRs?” I asked, laying on the saccharine in my tone.
The girl touched her artfully tussled short hair. She’d used so much product for the look that even a gale-force wind probably couldn’t pull a strand out of place. “I’m in winter rush for their little sisters. No doubt I’ll get my rose after the party on Saturday.”
“Yeah? What’s your name?” I smiled. “You know, in case I need an in with one of the brothers.”
“Acadia Moore.” She touched her hair again. “You’ll want to drop it often at the party.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
I glanced up at Chess. She was having a hard time keeping a straight face, so I slid my arm through hers and all but dragged her out of the Union before she did something silly like snort-laugh at Acadia’s sudden misfortune.
“That girl isn’t waking up to a handsome SCR handing her a rose and taking her to breakfast the day after rush, is she?” Chess asked with a grin as we dropped down the stairs to the sidewalk in front of the building.
“Not only that. She’s not going to the masquerade either.
” With a dramatic sigh that I punctuated with the back of my gloved hand brushing my forehead, I said, “Oh, to be a fly on the wall when she finds out the only place anyone will be dropping her name is off the list of potential Little Rhos in this rush class.”
Our giggles carried on the thin February air as we walked together toward the west side of campus. More than one person gave us a look that ended on a smile.
Sobering for a second, I said, “The Little Rhos are about supporting the fraternity, not lording it over other people about being a member.”
Normally, I wasn’t such a vindictive bitch, but that girl needed a lesson in what to value in other people. Looks, money, and connections might help a person gain a foot in the door, but once inside the club, that person needed to deliver—and judgment wasn’t on the list of the club’s needs.
When I pledged the Little Rhos, the “little sisters” of Sigma Chi Rho, the frat member who’d brought my rose—Taco Hernandez, starting safety for the Wildcats—had told me I was a shoo-in for a spot on their roster from the first rush party.
When I asked why, he’d said it was because when I fell on my ass at that skating party, I hadn’t cried or pouted or tried to blame it on something—or someone—else.
I’d sat in the middle of the rink in hysterics, laughing at myself and my klutziness.
When I’d landed on the ice, I’d thought that would be my one and only rush party.
That I’d be among the first of the fifty girls to be dropped, since the frat needed to whittle the numbers down to the special fifteen who received their roses.
Instead, by just being myself, I’d shown them that I was fun.
I didn’t have an agenda other than to hang out with the guys and have a good time.
In other words, I wasn’t looking to find my very own mister among the SCRs, which was the entire goal of several of the girls rushing the house.
Nor was I after the caché of association with the most popular frat on campus.
I only wanted to find a community with people who enjoyed doing things together—game nights, dancing, ski weekends, football tailgates—plus, several of my classmates in the film school were members of the frat.
After the way Acadia Moore had outed herself as a mean girl, no way was she going to be one of my sisters at the house. On my way to my seat in the lecture hall, I shot off a quick text to the president of the fraternity, a naughty grin playing over my lips. Mean girls always had it coming.
In the end, I talked Piper and Jamaica into attending the Mardi Gras Ball with Chess and me.
It didn’t hurt that several of the Wildcats who weren’t members of Sigma Chi Rho, Callahan O’Reilly and Wyatt Baxter among them, were going in support of their teammates who belonged to the frat.
Though no one mentioned it, it stood to reason that Finn McCabe and Danny Chambers would be in attendance too, what with them all being roommates as well as teammates.
Since Chess hadn’t mentioned anything about Finn, I’d kept my mouth shut.
If he was there, great. If he wasn’t, great too.
Either way, I was hoping for at least one single friend to be my partner in crime—or outrageous flirting.
Whichever. After all, we’d all be wearing masks, and one could get away with so much naughty behavior while hiding behind a mask.
“Where in the world did you find a paisley-colored mask, J?” I asked when Jamaica pulled her eyewear from a box she’d left on the kitchen table in my apartment.
Her cheeks heated to a rosy pink as she shrugged. “I ordered a plain mask and decorated it myself.”