Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Robbie
Ipower through my poli-sci notes, sitting up at the front of the class to make sure I’m following everything.
A group of us has a shared notes section going, and I flag a few things I’m not sure about so one of them can come back and answer it for me.
My dumb jock reputation is spot-on, but what I lack in brains, I make up for with dogged grit.
People can say a lot of things about me, but one thing they can never say is I didn’t try.
As soon as this class is done, I’ve got frat duties, and training key pledges in our way of mayhem is something I’ve looked forward to ever since becoming social chair.
The more I focus on schoolwork and my fraternity responsibilities, the less time I have to think about other things.
Other things like the very hard, very masculine tongue I had in my mouth last weekend.
The thing is, I’m all for experimenting and having a good time.
I’m so not having some kind of queer freak-out, because a mouth is a mouth, right?
So what that dick can probably do it for me as much as pussy does?
Though the evidence is still out on that one.
Nah, the thing that I’m avoiding thinking about is who that tongue belonged to.
Brandon and I have always been close but in a weird way. Chad’s my best bro, and I can tell him anything, but our relationship is all about the fun. We have our serious moments, sure, and I know I can go to him with anything, but when it comes to Brandon, I’ve always had a sort of wariness there.
Some kind of instinct to keep him at arm’s length.
It helps that we never see eye to eye on things. Ever. We bicker like old dudes in a nursing home, and if that’s where we end up together one day, I wouldn’t be surprised, because as much as we might get into it, we always seem to be together through some unspoken agreement.
Having breakfast? He’s there.
Chapter meeting? He’s by my side.
We even drive or walk to campus together most days, even if we’re arguing for a good part of the way there.
Even when I actively try to stay away from him, it never ends up that way.
But last weekend, I think we both found something we can finally agree on. Our kiss was goddamn hot.
And in the three days since, I haven’t seen him once. At least him avoiding me means I haven’t had to avoid him.
I cringe as class winds up, and I stuff my laptop into my backpack, then pull it on.
This is too much thinking for me.
I have prank wisdom to bestow upon the shitkickers in our house, and I plan to make that my full focus for the rest of the day.
With Zeke, Chad, and some of the Bigs in the house joining us, it’ll put up a sorely needed buffer between me and Brandon.
I’m glad it was so dark at the party and no one was paying us attention, because all I’d need is for one of those assholes to get ahold of this information and have it become the butt of all jokes from now until eternity.
A constant reminder is not what I need when I’m trying to forget.
The second I step foot out of the social sciences building, the cold slaps me in the face. Fucking New England weather. Growing up in Arizona did not prepare me for this.
I’m walking so fast I’d be jogging if I wasn’t worried about going ass over tits in the snow when I hear my name being called and turn to see Chad and Brandon hurrying to catch up with me.
“Dude, we got a ride in with Bailey this morning, but screw walking back. You have your car, right?” Chad asks.
“Yeah, because I’m not a dumbass.” I nod toward the parking lot. “Come on, I’m freezing.”
We’re all silent until we get to the car, where I immediately turn it on and pump the heat. My face stings as it thaws, and it’s only when my hands work properly again that I finally get moving.
On the way back, Chad runs through how we should structure the meeting this afternoon with my occasional input, but Brandon stays silent.
Every time I glance at him in my rearview mirror, he’s staring out the window, blond hair perfectly windswept and nose still a bit pink.
I swallow and look away before he can sense me looking at him.
Chad suddenly spins in his seat. “You’re quiet,” he says to Brandon. “I thought for sure you would have vetoed something by now.”
I can’t stop myself from glancing back, and Brandon’s stare flicks to mine for a quick second before he redirects to Chad.
Talk about some awkward tension.
This is driving me nuts. Since when do I give a shit about feelings and avoiding issues? It was a goddamn kiss. If I freaked out every time I kissed someone, I’d never get laid, and that would be a catastrophe. Time for typical Robbie to break the ice.
Only, when I open my mouth to—I dunno, thank him for the kiss, maybe—nothing comes out.
My hands grip the steering wheel tighter as I navigate onto Greek Row and pull up down from the house.
“Ride’s over, bitches.” I snap open my seat belt, grab my bag, and am out of the car before either of them can follow me. My shoulders feel so tense, I carry my bag instead of trying to put it on.
“Dude, you okay?” Chad calls, followed by the sound of two doors closing.
“I’m getting my freezing ass inside.”
They catch up with me when I’m kicking my boots off in the doorway, and as though he can’t help himself, Brandon finally speaks.
“I’ve told you not to wear T-shirts under your coat.”
“Like I need a lecture on fashion right now.”
“It’s not about fashion. If you want to be warm, you need to wear wool.”
“I do wear wool,” I say, plucking at my sweater.
“As a base layer.” Brandon rolls his eyes, and the prickling urge to fight back starts to rise.
“Sure, I’ll run out and grab some with all of that money I have lying around.”
I don’t see how it makes a difference anyway. I’m not used to this weather, plain and simple.
“As much as I love the married couple routine you guys do, we need to get set up.” Chad pushes me toward the hall, and I lead the way down to the room at the back of the house.
It’s the second biggest and will have more than enough space for our four pledges, their big brothers, and the four of us.
This room is where the pledges are taken through mastering mayhem every year, which is why we call it the war room.
We’re basically preparing our troops for battle.
Zeke’s already here, typing on his laptop. The line through his eyebrow is freshly shaven—his way of trying to give his baby face more of an edge to it—and he sends an upnod our way.
“I assume you guys have this handled?”
“Please.” Chad lifts his hands. “Who are you talking to?”
I high-five him, because when it comes to pranks, he’s got the balance between fun and safe down to an art form. I’ve learned from the best.
“If there’s any good thing to come out of the Kappas prank,” Brandon says, “it’s that these new guys should know how easily things can go wrong.”
Hmph. I’d prefer we weren’t all a cautionary tale, to be honest. I could do without thinking one of my brothers is going to die.
Apparently, I don’t keep my grumbling to myself because Brandon nudges me on his way past to rearrange the furniture.
“Man, you’ve gotta get past it.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“What, you’re going to hold a grudge for the rest of the year?”
I shrug. “What’s it to you what I do?”
“It’s making you look at me weird. Stop it. I’m not about to drop dead.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
I grunt and move away, helping sort things into a half circle so once everyone is here, they have a view of up the front. I’m being a killjoy, and I need to cut it out. The Kappas tried to make amends, and Brandon is fine, but my brain refuses to let it go. It’s frustrating as hell.
First that, and now the kiss.
Yep, I really shouldn’t have tried it with him.
I’m too in my head.
And the last thing I want to concentrate on is how much I wanna do it again.
I arrange the last couch into place, then go and join Chad and Zeke.
Chad’ll do most of the talking, and Zeke is here for presence and to make sure the two of us don’t say anything dumb—which would maybe offend me if that wasn’t the kind of thing I’m known for.
As risk manager, Brandon will try to drill into these guys the importance of safety, but like every brother in his role before him, he’s fighting a losing battle.
Once everyone files in and gets seated, Zeke stands and clears his throat. We’ve invited the four pledges that had the most promise for being pains in the ass on Greek Row. Raymond is here even though I’m still not sure about that dude, plus three others called Shifley, Dean, and Lance.
“As you all know, you’re here to learn the art of mayhem making,” Zeke says.
“Chad and Robbie will be your teachers, and Brandon is the guy you run all your plans past. Over the next few months, you guys need to write up mock pranks and have them rated for effectiveness and safety, and in the meanwhile”—he points his thumb over his shoulder at us—“you need to vote which of these two should be crowned this year’s Master of Mayhem.
Take all past and present pranks into account, as well as parties, Greek games, and any general tomfoolery. Got it?”
The pledges agree, and their Bigs nod at Zeke even though they already know what’s going on. Once he’s satisfied, Zeke motions for Chad to get started.
Chad takes the front of the room like a king in his spotlight. He claps his hands and rubs them together, and a trickle of excitement for getting to be a part of all this leaks into me.
Sexual confusion and near death aside, this is the shit dreams are made of.
Brotherhood, fun, and pranks to get the blood pumping.
When it came to moving across the country on a football scholarship, or staying near the West Coast like my brother did, I’m glad I took the jump, because no frat in the country has what we have here.
There might be eighty of us all up, but I’d put my life on the line for any of my brothers, and I know they feel the same.
Even the douchey ones.
I turn on the projector, and Chad and I walk the guys through some of our more notable pranks.
We’ve got planning diagrams and photo evidence, videos of some of the really spectacular ones, and I remember sitting here as a new initiate and being talked through the kind of fun I could have as a Sigma brother. It was like the world opened up to me.
So I also remember that when the risk manager at the time got up and started talking about guidelines and hazard logs, filling in incident reports, and checking on allergies, I immediately checked out.
It happens with this lot too.
Brandon jumps up and tries to hold attention, but I can see their eyes glazing over—some of the Bigs have that faraway stare going on too.
Fuck that shit.
“Listen up, kids,” I say, getting to my feet.
And one good thing about being so large is that when I’m talking, people pay attention.
“You better memorize every word out of Brando’s mouth because there’ll be a quiz at the end, and any of you fuckers who don’t pass it will be banned from pranking people until you do.
He might be boring as batshit, but this stuff is important, and if you can’t get that through your thick skulls, you can go play Frisbee on campus with the rest of the geeds. ”
And like that, all eyes are up front.
I pat Brandon’s shoulder. “Take it away, man.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly.
I catch Chad’s questioning look as Brandon gets started. Important? he mouths.
I shrug it off, acting like it was no big deal, but fuck if someone is getting hurt on my watch. Ah … again.
I’ve heard a lot that the social chair and risk manager need to work together, and I got it on some level, but that didn’t stop the pissing match between me and Brandon as I tried to plan big, and he tried to rein me in.
Maybe I kinda sorta have a new respect for his position now.
Because I never want to be the cause of someone going through what he did.
An idea forms in my brain, and I rub the scruff on my chin as I eye him. To his credit, he’s engaging when he talks. And even when he’s running over the difference between a hazard and an incident, he makes you want to pay attention.
He might not love this shit, but he’s good at it.
Like I’m good at what I do.
And if people want us to work together, maybe I could lean into that more. Get his buy-in for the next party, run my ideas by him, maybe try to find a way he can let go for once since that obviously annoyed him last weekend.
Because the more time we spend together, the faster we’ll get past this weird awkwardness, and then I can move on with my experimenting.
What did Jenny say? First kissing, then dick?
Well, as it turns out, I think I want to try the kissing thing again.
For research.
After all, I’m probably hung up on this whole thing because it was new and different. Anything that’s a shock to the system is bound to stay with you.
So if I do it again, and maybe again, it’ll become normal. Boring. Just a thing that I could do.
But for some reason, I can’t concentrate on kissing another guy until things are straight with Brandon.
So I’ll work on that first.
Kissing second.
With anyone other than him.