Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Robbie
Fucking Brandon. I’m disgusted with myself for even contemplating a Gamma party, and yet here I am, pulling on my best cargo pants, filling up the pockets with cans of beer, and grabbing a knit hat I made with a large wool ball on top.
I’ll only wear the hat until we get there, but chicks are obsessed with it, so I’m hoping it works that way with dudes too.
People love to squeeze the pompom.
When I go to grab Brandon from his room, the first word that pops into my head is hot, and I immediately go to push it down when I pause. If I’m attracted to dudes, I’m allowed to think that way. And, come on, Brandon is better-looking than most dudes.
He’s wearing dark pants, a gray sweater, scarf, and coat, and the whole thing should look boring as fuck, but it makes my mouth dry.
“Bro, you need to think this girlfriend thing through. You could literally score with anyone you wanted, looking like that.”
His stare snaps to mine, and he doesn’t immediately answer. Then slowly, a smile forms, showing off those vamp fangs, which surprisingly make him look hotter.
“What, like you?”
And I know he’s only teasing, so it makes it easy to play along. “I’m into dudes now, remember? I can tell a guy he’s hot.”
“You going to be my gay best friend?”
“As long as you don’t expect fashion advice.”
He drops my gaze, hazel eyes roaming over my body. I puff myself up a bit, not sure what I’m hoping to achieve because he’s one hundred percent guaranteed to hate what I’m wearing.
“A flannel shirt?” he says on a sigh. “If you want to hook up, you need to put in some effort.”
“I’ve never had a problem before.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never been trying to hook up with dudes before.”
“There’s no way a guy cares more about what I’m wearing than chicks do.”
“Sure. Because that’s not exactly what we’re talking about right now.”
I sneer at him. “I’d like to see you fit a single can of beer in those pants.
” They’re practically fucking sprayed on.
“Actually, I’d like to see you even fit a credit card in there.
I wouldn’t worry about needing to hook up—by the time you get those bad boys off, it’ll be February, and your dick will have fallen off from lack of circulation. ”
He gapes at me. “Stop talking.”
“But it’s my best quality.”
“I promise it isn’t.” He leads the way from his room, and I fall into step with him. “Besides, there’ll be beer there. I don’t need to take my own.”
“Yeah, enjoy drinking the piss they supply. What’s the bet they’re half-strength seltzers?”
“You mean, what I’ve been trying to get you to supply for our parties?”
“Sure, you can’t break up with Jenny because of our dues, but you can push me to serve people what’s basically soda. Great plan.”
He looks like he wants to argue, so I bat my lashes at him like the innocent fucker I am.
And when Brandon laughs, I can’t help grinning.
“There’s no way you can tell me that your beer won’t be shaken to shit by the time we get to the party.”
We leave the house and walk around the block to the next street over. It’s already dark and so goddamn cold, but it won’t take long to warm up once we’re there.
“Some of them will be,” I say. “But that’s part of the fun. Like a lucky dip. Which ones are good to go, and which ones will start an impromptu wet T-shirt contest?”
“Don’t you ever …”
There’s something in his tone that makes me glance over. “Yeah?”
“You’re always so on. Isn’t it exhausting?”
Surprisingly, I’ve never thought of it that way. “Well … I don’t think of myself as on. I just … am.” I frown because that sounds like some kinda douchey self-help shit. “Do you think I’m too much?” It panics me that I actually care about his answer.
“I think when you’re dancing on a table and end up landing on me, you could maybe tone it down a notch.” He flashes those teeth with a quick smile. “But, nah. Don’t change. Especially not for a party pooper like me.”
I know he’s joking. I know it was a throwaway comment, and I know I’m the one always calling him that in the first place, but I’m someone who loves people. Loves them exactly the way they are. Even the geeds, though maybe not so much the asshole Gammas we’re going to be partying with tonight.
But loving people the way they are includes Brandon and all his uptight, planning ways. I nudge him.
“You shouldn’t change either. Especially not for a loose cannon like me.”
He laughs, a little puff of white leaving his parted lips. “Let’s see if you still think that the next time you suggest auctioning off people to have sex with.”
“It was for charity.”
“It was basically prostitution.”
“I was trying to meet my philanthropy quota,” I argue.
“Dude, you would have been the only one involved.”
“Still would have made an easy hundred bucks, surely.”
Brandon cuffs my shoulder as we reach the Gamma house and start up the stairs. “You’re selling yourself short, big guy. I bet you could have even made one hundred and one.”
I blow him a kiss as we step inside and pay our entry.
The party is decent, I guess. There are a lot of people, every room filled with alcohol and music, but it doesn’t have shit on a Sigma party.
It’s lacking the finesse of something I would have planned, which makes it exactly the same as every other fucker throwing a house party, and yet they still have the balls to charge twenty a head.
What do these guys even put the money toward?
“Where’s your girl?” I ask Brandon, following him through the party.
“No clue. Let’s get drinks before we go and find them.”
“Fine by me.” One drink turns into two, and then I have a third, while Brandon still makes no indication he wants to move on.
“You avoiding Jenny?” I finally ask.
“Nah, nothing like that.”
“Sort of seems like it.”
He waves a hand toward the people dancing. “See any guys who look interesting?”
I don’t take my eyes off his face. He’s deflecting, which means there’s definitely something up there.
If he’s only staying with her to protect our parties or some dumbass move like that, he needs to quit being a martyr.
I’m the party king. If I can’t deal with a little blowback like his relationship ending, I don’t deserve to be social chair. “Dude, if you need to—”
“There you are!”
Before I can finish my sentence, Jenny appears, throwing her arms around Brandon and drawing him into a deep kiss. I try not to sneer at the way she’s trying to eat his face, and maybe sensing me watching—or maybe he really is over her—Brandon cuts it off.
Jenny glances my way. “You brought Robbie?”
“Yeah, is that cool?”
I love being spoken about like I’m not here. “Last I heard it was an open party. Did I need to get y’alls opinion?”
Jenny bats at my hand with a giggle. “Of course not, but Brandy didn’t mention you were coming.” She leans in. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. Some of the girls heard about your queer quest and want to help.”
My jaw tenses. Do I give a shit people know? Of course not. I haven’t tried to keep it quiet. But people talking about it, calling it some kind of queer quest like it’s all a fucking joke, has me on edge.
Also, Brandy? When is she going to quit it with that name?
Brandon glares at her. “Did you tell them?”
“It’s fine. None of them care.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t your thing to tell.”
She eyes him curiously, and there’s something about that look, about the way she can’t understand him sticking up for a friend without getting suspicious, that pushes me to be reckless.
“It kinda was,” I cut in. “After all, I’d probably feel threatened if my boyfriend got off on kissing someone else too. ”
And like I expected, they’re both shocked silent.
Then, they start talking at the same time.
“I did not get off on it—”
“I wasn’t threatened—”
I grin at them. “Did I make things awkward?”
“Of course not,” Jenny says, and Brandon shakes his head at me.
“You guys have nothing to worry about. It’s not like I want to kiss him again.
” And my mouth is out of control because it definitely sounds like I’m issuing a challenge.
Why? Who the hell knows? Kissing Brandon again would be a terrible goddamn idea, and yet here I am, taunting him into doing it again.
“If anyone got off over it, it was you,” he says.
I nudge Jenny. “Think he’ll float away with a head that inflated?”
“Please. I saw the kiss, remember?” she says. “You were totally into it.”
I raise my hands like I’m surrendering. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. You both seem super sensitive about this.”
“Sensitive? Why would I be sensitive?” Jenny asks.
“You just really want me to have liked kissing him. You don’t have to worry though. I’m not going to tell people he’s a bad kisser.”
“He’s not a bad kisser.”
“I didn’t say he was.” I mime locking my lips. “But either way, he’s basically the last person I want to kiss tonight.”
Brandon’s eyes narrow. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Scouting for a guy to hook up with? I already told you.”
“Are you ready to progress to dick?” Jenny asks.
“Nah, still kissing. I want to kick ass at that first, then I’ll move on to the complicated stuff.”
“So why don’t you practice with Brandy?”
Bingo.
I lift my hand and tilt it side to side. “Eh.”
“Fuck you.” Brandon laughs.
“He’s a great kisser,” Jenny says.
“Look, I don’t want to cause issues here. It’s fine.”
“Why would you cause issues?”
“Some chicks get jealous, is all …”
She rolls her eyes and pushes Brandon my way. “I didn’t get jealous last week, did I? I’m cool. Do it.”
“I don’t want you freaking out.”
“Please, you can kiss as much as you want, I don’t care. Kissing doesn’t mean anything, and you guys are friends.”
That’s what I always thought, and yet the idea of kissing Brandon again is getting me excited. Way excited. So excited I’m going to be disappointed as fuck if he says no.
“So you won’t care if I kiss him when you’re not around?” I ask.
She pauses. “Not when I’m not around. But if I’m here, go nuts.”
“Do I get a say?” Brandon asks.
“Of course. If I’m too much man for you, I understand. Masculinity is a fragile thing …”
He steps closer. “You are such a dick.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re trying to taunt me into kissing you. Wasn’t once enough?”
“Hey, I promised I’d keep the douche canoes away from you, and it just so happens they’re allergic to the gay. You’re welcome.”
His eyes drop to my lips and flick back up again. “Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?”
“I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” His mouth pulls up on one side. “You’re practically begging me.”
“Maybe you’re the safe option.”
His voice drops to a whisper. “Or maybe you liked it.”
“You’re a dude, and I’m experimenting. Of course I liked it. It has nothing to do with you.”
His eyes narrow.
“You gonna kiss me or not?”
His attention shoots to Jenny, and for some reason, that pisses me off. “You sure this is okay with you?”
“Everyone experiments in college, Brandy, and the girls all think it’s cool that you’re not threatened by toxic masculinity and will do this for your friend.” She strokes his neck. “And hey, if you guys want to try a threesome, I’m game.”
He frowns. “No threesomes.”
And thank fuck, because I have no interest in touching Jenny. Brandon though … huh. Maybe I could picture touching him. Possibly.
“You ready, Brando?”
He grabs my flannel shirt, curling his fingers into fists. “What are frat brothers for?”
His smile is the last thing I see before his lips are on me, and I’m hit with that same all-consuming high as last week.
I don’t need to warm up to the kiss this time around; I’m immediately drawn into it.
His mouth, his tongue, the way he nips my bottom lip.
I’d say he’s kissing me like he has something to prove, but it’s every bit as good as I remember.
My dick has thickened behind my fly, and I tug Brandon’s body against me, slotting a thigh between his legs and almost groaning at the feel of him hard too.
Well aware that we’re in the middle of a party, standing in front of his girlfriend, I reluctantly pull away. Then kiss him again, then pull away for real this time.
His lips are puffy, and his hair is a mess from my hands, but he’s smiling.
“Still think I’m a shit kisser?”
I shove him with a laugh. “Fine. Maybe I’ll concede that wasn’t half bad.”
And as we’re following Jenny back to her friends, he leans in to whisper, “Half bad, huh? I’d say that monster in your pants thinks otherwise.”
Then the smart-ass pumps his eyebrows at me, and it’s all I can do not to grab him and maul him again.