Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
CHAD
All week on campus, I keep my eye out for a head full of messy curls, a tall, thin frame, a sly smile that I can’t stop picturing … but Bailey and I mustn’t have any similar classes because I don’t see him once. Makes sense, I guess, since I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him before the weekend.
Then again, him being at Deja Brew can’t have been a coincidence.
It’s totally possible he’s a regular there and I’ve never looked twice.
In my defense, normally I’m behind the machine making the orders, not taking them to the tables, but our normal server was out sick.
There’s no way I could have seen him before and not noticed.
There’s something about his face that makes me want to stare.
He’s not what I’d call smoking hot, more … beautiful, I guess? Can a dude be beautiful? I don’t know, but I like it. Whatever the it is that ties my gut into knots.
After seeing him at the cafe, I know I want to run into him again. There’s a party this weekend that I normally wouldn’t go to, but if there’s a chance he’s there …
I toss the ball across the backyard to Robbie, and he catches it easily.
We’ve already changed out of our training gear, and he’s wearing another Robbie-special.
Cargo shorts that pass the knees and have more pockets than I can count, and a faded blue polo shirt with the collar starting to fray.
All he needs is a fanny pack. Which he has and does wear frequently.
“What’s on your mind, Doomsen?” he asks as he lobs the ball back to me.
I jog until I’m underneath it and catch it with a grunt. “You have plans for this weekend?”
“Other than the game?”
“Obviously.”
He shrugs. “Was gonna see if Claudia wants to go on a date.”
That’s surprising. I throw the ball back. “I didn’t know you were the dating kind.”
“If it gets me laid, I’m the everything kind.”
“Including desperate.”
Robbie passes back a bit harder this time. “Nothing wrong with wanting to get my dick wet. And speaking of … still not gonna tell your brothers who you hooked up with on Saturday?”
“Nope.”
“It was Carter’s girlfriend, wasn’t it?”
“Fuck no.” I shudder. “First, you know I don’t do that shit.
Second, I can pull my own hookups.” I avoid referencing any specific gender, and I’m a bit annoyed with myself about it.
I’ve always thought the guys know I swing both ways, but we’ve never actually talked about it, so it could be me being paranoid.
Maybe none of them actually pay all that much attention to me and I really am as conceited as Bailey says.
Or maybe they assume it’s some kinda college experimental thing, and once I’m done here, I’ll be done with that.
But for all my claims of spending this year getting as much action as possible, we’re a few weeks in, and I haven’t managed it once.
I blame it on training.
And coursework.
And dumb Bailey running out and being dumb.
“Bring Claudia to that toga party after the game?” I suggest.
He eyes me funny. “A toga party? What are we, freshmen?”
“It’s our final year. Aren’t we past the stage of acting too cool for things?”
“I’ve never acted too cool for anything.
” And yeah, that’s true, at least. “Toga parties are shit because they’re always full of people who are getting their first taste of freedom outside of mom and dad.
Everyone gets way too sloppy, and I swear half the girls there are barely legal. Not my scene.”
Despite what we might think of them, they always draw a big crowd from other frat houses, including Kappa, because togas are easy costumes and, well, there’s alcohol and people looking for sex. It’s the golden triumvirate of parties.
“Come with me.”
“You’re actually going?”
“Sure.” I drop the football onto my foot and kick it his way. “We can probably get Zeke and Brandon on board too.”
“Urg, not Brandon. Dude is driving me nuts.”
“You guys should fuck and get it over with.”
Robbie flips me off. “I’d like my dick to stay attached, thanks.”
We toss the ball for a few more minutes in silence before he breaks it.
“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to your sudden opinion change on toga parties?” he asks.
“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to your face?” Oooh, good one, Doomsen.
“Ah, so there is.”
“Nope.”
“Is your mystery lay going to be there?” he asks.
And of course he’s got it in one. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll be a good wingman and come with. But when it turns out to be a total fail, I get to say I told you so.”
“Deal.”
Zeke and Brandon agree to come with us as well, Brandon more enthusiastically than Robbie. At least with the party off-site, he can enjoy himself properly instead of making sure everyone is following the rules.
Though with Robbie there too, his chances of relaxing are fifty-fifty.
We do the whole predrinks thing at the house, and some of the other brothers join us before heading to wherever their plans take them for the night.
I’m high from our home game win, my shoulder is still sorta sore from a decent hit I took in the last quarter, and the adrenaline hasn’t fully left me.
Every time I think about seeing Bailey, both of us a bit tipsy, I’m hit with another surge of anticipation.
I’m like, ninety percent sure he still wants to hook up as badly as I do.
And if he’s not at this party, I’m gonna have to find someone else to take this weird edge off. I draw the line at thinking about a guy for longer than a week, so it’s already been way too long.
The toga party is being held at a share house a few blocks from Greek Row, and depending on how the night goes, there’s a high chance the neighbors will call the cops before it has a chance to get started.
Though, if the cops do get called, no one is going to think twice about me darting off in another direction to them. Hopefully with Bailey in tow.
He’s like this incessant itch, sitting too deep under my skin to scratch.
The share house is a total dump, but there’s booze on offer, so I fill up my cup and exchange a look with Zeke while Robbie and Brandon bicker about whose toga is more historically accurate.
Spoiler: neither. They’re made out of fucking sheets.
There are a few familiar faces in the crowd, but I’m about to write this party off as a bust when I spot Charles. My gut flips.
“Hey, Zeke,” he says, nodding at the rest of us. “Didn’t catch you last weekend.”
“Huh, really? No idea why.”
Maybe the fact Zeke spent most of the party dodging him so Charles wouldn’t get the chance to whine about my prank.
The skeptical look on Charles’s face proves he knows that. “Anyway, I thought we should get together and set a few parameters for this year.”
“Parameters?” Robbie laughs in his face. “You guys are a fun bunch.” He raises his voice. “Fuck the beer keg, we’ve got parameters!”
“Does he ever shut up?” Charles asks.
“Nah, it’s what we like best about him.” Zeke stands a bit taller. “Might have to pass on that conversation though. I’m just, like, super busy …”
“Obviously.”
“Great seeing you again though.”
Charles shakes his head. “Monday at four. Kappa or Sigma House?”
“Like hell am I giving you an open invitation into our house. And yours always smells kinda funky. Cafe?”
“Sounds good.”
I backhand Zeke’s chest. “You really held your own there.”
“I’ve got him right where I want him.”
Charles narrows his eyes. “Anyway …”
Before he can walk off, I hurry to ask, “Who else from your house is here?”
“Only Lucas and Jordan.” He eyes me. “After what you did last week, we won’t be leaving the house empty in a hurry.”
“Look at you, learning from your mistakes. Though I have no idea what you mean.” First rule: deny, deny, deny. Now that I know Bailey isn’t here, I’m more than happy to expedite Charles leaving. “How was your pledge though? Did he piss himself? Should I send him a care basket?”
“I thought you didn’t know what I meant?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Bye, assholes.” Charles leaves, Zeke’s mimicked “bye, assholes” following after him.
And like that, I’m ready to go.
So much for my plan to find someone else to fuck. All I know is that the people here aren’t cranking my interest, the beer suddenly tastes watery, and fuck me the squealing coming from outside is irritating.
“Gonna hit the head,” I mutter as I leave.
But instead of finding a bathroom, I drop my cup onto the nearest flat surface and walk right out the front door.
Sure, I feel bad about leaving the guys there after dragging them with me, but they’re grown adults who can leave when they like.
Plus, if I tell them I’m ditching now, they’ll want to know why, and those three are persistent assholes.
Besides, I’m not heading home. Nope. I want to see Bailey.
Which is a stupid move on my part, but hey, I spend most of my week getting hit in the head, so no big surprises there.
I’m beginning to suspect Bailey is my “guy who got away,” and I’m not gonna be able to shift him from my mind until we’ve shared mutual orgasms. Clearly, the quickest way to move on is to work on making that happen, stat.
That’s gotta be the reason why I find myself sneaking along the side of Kappa House at midnight with no prank in mind.
I’m on the lookout for any lingering frat members who might be watching the house. After all, it’s Saturday, my preferred night for devilry, but it’s also about three hours earlier than I normally show up.
The lack of people out doesn’t reassure me though, so I set my stealth skills to one thousand and pause at each bedroom window to pull myself up and peer in.
Unlike Sigma House, where all the bedrooms are on the second floor, Kappa has all their single rooms ground level, but as the house is raised on piers, the windows are just above head height.
So if Bailey is the money monster Zeke said, he’s bound to be in one of these.
Maybe I’m completely wasting my time and he’s gone out somewhere else, but that won’t stop me from trying.