Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Brandon
We’re in the war room waiting.
We met up earlier to go over the plan before everyone headed to bed for a few hours’ sleep.
Zeke is already back from his meeting with Charles, Charles’s keys successfully swiped, and now we just need Chad’s go-ahead. He’s supposed to be waiting for Bailey and the rest of the Kappas to fall asleep before creeping through the house and lifting us the rest of the car keys we need.
We have trash bags full of plastic balls and cans of shaving cream on standby.
I take the thermos of coffee Robbie offers me. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” He’s had a smile stretching across his face all afternoon, and I’d love to think it’s because of what we decided earlier, but I know better. There’s prank fever in the air, and Robbie’s getting high from it. “You good? You ready?” He’s practically bouncing.
I set a hand on his thigh to still it. “Would you calm down? You’re going to make me anxious.”
“Nah, this one is straightforward.”
“I’m sure that’s what the Kappas thought too.”
For the first time, the smile drops, and he gets that same worried expression he’s looked at me with a few times since it happened.
I hold up my hand. “Don’t.”
“You reminded me of it.”
“Because it’s not a big deal.”
He grumbles something under his breath as he takes the thermos from me and has a large sip.
I nudge him. “Hey, you’re about to stuff balls into holes and piss some Kappa dudes off. Focus back on that.”
He hums, but he’s not feeling it, and I want to kick myself for bringing his mood down. As much as he might drive me crazy with his pranks and tendency to overdo the parties, there’s something so pure about his overeager excitement. I want to protect that.
“Think about the look on Charles’s face when he realizes his Mercedes has been creamed.”
He finally sniggers. “Think he’ll burst a vein in anger?”
“We can only hope.”
Robbie lifts his hand for a high five at the same time as I do, and we both laugh and follow through. The wuss is wearing gloves and a wool hat, pulled down to his eyebrows, and the three sweaters he’s wearing make him look bulkier than usual.
I want to tease him about the cans of shaving cream he has filling the pockets of his cargo pants. He’s wearing his fanny pack, and I have no idea why, but his whole outfit looks ridiculous … and somehow so Robbie.
I think I like it.
There must be some heavy drugs in his cum, because I never would have thought the sight of a fucking fanny pack could make me feel soft, and yet, here we are.
With me not taking the opportunity to laugh at his clothes.
I look down at what I’m wearing and wonder for the first time if it’s too safe. Too boring. Fucked if I know, but I don’t like that thought. Robbie is Mr. Fun. Fun and boredom don’t mix.
Which doesn’t matter when all we are is brofriends.
The reminder that hooking up is temporary shouldn’t be as heavy as it is.
“What’s the bet he’s fallen asleep?”
I turn to the voice and look at Shifley, who’s playing on his phone. His Big, Colby, whacks the back of his head.
“This is Doomsen you’re talking about. No matter how magic his boyfriend’s dick is, he knows the score. Frat first, everything else second. He’s got our back, just you wait.”
And an hour later, at 2:00 a.m., Chad proves him right.
Zeke gets a text with a photo of a pile of keys down the side of Kappa house.
“All right, brothers,” Zeke says. “It’s go time. Everyone remember their roles?”
There’s general agreement before we start to move.
Since this is a training mission, the Bigs will observe but not actually be involved in the prank, and Zeke will act as lookout.
He’s never been as big on the pranks as we have, mostly happy to let us do our own thing, even if it means having to take the full weight of Charles’s disapproval of our mayhem.
I’ll be there making sure nothing goes wrong, and Robbie will be making sure the future deviants of Greek Row play their parts to precision.
Shifley is the pledge who came up with the prank, so once we reach Kappa house, he disappears down the side of the house to grab the keys while his Big and Zeke watching from the next yard. The rest of us split off.
We’ve had the pledges spend the week scoping out which car belongs to which Kappa, even though we could have easily told them, and the plan tonight is to hit Charles, Lucas, Jordan, and Sam, partly because they’re the biggest pains in the asses, and partly because they have sunroofs.
If it was up to Robbie, Bailey would have been on that list too—favoritism is not frat—but since he’s the reason Chad was able to get us the keys in the first place, I guess that gives him a pass.
The only regret I have, as I watch the pledges scramble to their assigned cars, is that I can’t be more involved. I’m hands-off. Which is fine. Being risk manager is important. I know that.
But even as I watch Robbie dart after the pledges and their Bigs, I wish I could be right there with them.
Shifley gets back with the keys and runs them out to each group. Charles and Sam, being president and VP, park in the driveway, but the other two cars are out on the street, in plain view of anyone who happens to look out their window or drive past.
And apparently letting off cans of shaving cream and shaking plastic balls from plastic trash bags is not as quiet as I would have thought it was.
Each group gets their car unlocked and the sunroof open. Robbie distributes the shaving cream from his pockets and rubber gloves and wet wipes from his fanny pack. Because of course he’s thought of everything.
As they work, I keep an eye out for hazards—not that there should be anything with a plan so straightforward. I guess one of them could end up with shaving cream in their eye or something, I dunno, but otherwise … this shit is boring.
I turn from the group doing Charles’s and Sam’s cars and head for the street, when a handful of shaving cream flies at my face.
“The fuck—oomph!”
I’m wearing it before I can finish the sentence.
Robbie’s suppressed laughter gives him away, and as soon as I swipe the cream from my eyes, it’s on.
I lunge at him, and he sprays more shaving cream at me until I manage to wrangle the can from his grip.
We wrestle back and forth, a laugh that I’m only just able to hold back building in my chest as I return the favor and douse him with it.
“Dick.”
Robbie tries to tackle me, but I flip us around, leg behind his, and send the big man down.
Only I don’t wriggle out of his grip fast enough.
He grabs my waist, and my feet disappear out from under me.
We land in the snow, covered in sticky shaving cream, panting against our suppressed laughter, limbs a tangled mess.
I glance up to see Shifley slashing his hand across his throat, but fuck it. This prank will be the first of many for them—this moment, this fun, this is the shit college was made for, and if we fuck up their prank, they’ll get another.
I’ll never have another moment like this with Robbie.
Either we’re not as loud as we thought, or it’s late enough that no one’s awake, but the guys finish up, and Zeke directs us all to head back to the house.
“Sorry, prez,” Robbie says, and Zeke waves him off.
“Dude, you think I give a shit about messing up a prank?”
“Don’t let Chad hear you say that,” I warn.
Zeke doesn’t look worried. “Some brothers take this too seriously. Maybe if it had been interrupted, we could have reminded them this is for fun. Nothing more.”
Robbie shoves me again, starting another wrestling match the whole way back to the house. I’m out of breath by the time we walk in, and the sudden change from the cold outside to the warm inside makes my already struggling lungs burn.
I shrug Robbie off me and head for the stairs, coughing the whole way there. That’ll teach me to leave my goddamn inhaler behind.
“Shit. Shit. Brando.”
I glance up directly into Robbie’s panicked expression. I’m coughing too hard to talk, and while it’s uncomfortable, I know it’s nothing serious. There’s just no way for me to let Robbie know that though.
When I keep walking, he’s hot on my heels, crowding my space. “Are you okay? What do you need?”
You, to get out of my way.
“Fine, I—” The coughing takes over again, so I push him aside, take the remaining stairs two at a time, and shoulder my way into my bedroom.
My inhaler is where I left it on my desk, and as soon as I get my first hit, my airways instantly feel better.
Fuck asthma.
I use my inhaler until I feel good again, and while breathing is easier now, there’s the usual lingering burn in my chest and weariness from coughing so hard. It doesn’t take long to pass, but it’s always a pain in the ass.
“You okay?”
I look up at Robbie, who’s standing so close we’re touching and looking way too concerned. His eyes are wide, and he’s pale. I want to tease him for being such a drama queen, but actually … it’s sort of nice. “Dude, that was nothing.”
His expression doesn’t change.
I force myself to laugh, just so he can see it’s not a big deal. “It was only a small one. Nothing to worry about, I promise.”
“I didn’t like it.”
This time, my laugh is real. “It wasn’t a fun time for me either, cowboy.”
Robbie grunts and then does something that catches me totally by surprise. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and he pulls me against him, crushing me in a hug.
I’m not sure what to make of this. Or … anything really. But I return it, confused and overwhelmed by how good it feels.
“It scares me every time.”
My throat feels thick. I squeeze him tighter. “Dude, it’s asthma. That kind of thing happens a lot.”
“Great. I didn’t know whether I needed to call an ambulance or what. If I hadn’t been such a dumbass, you never would have—”
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Yeah, no. You were being you, and I had a fucking blast.” I slowly move my hand from his mouth to stroke his cheek. “Actually, that was the most fun I’ve had outside of the bedroom in a long time.”
“I’m glad, but …”
“What’s going on? You’ve seen me have an asthma attack before.”
“Yeah, but …” He lets me go and whistles through an exhale. “Ah, fuck. Sorry. I … Yeah. It was like the Kappas’ prank all over again. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Well, at least all the doors survived this time.”
He laughs. Just a small one, but it’s something.
“Sometimes when I have a little attack like that, trying to talk makes it worse. So … what about a code-type thing? Like, if I … I dunno—pat my head, that means I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
He thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that works.”
“Good.”
“Cool.” He hesitates a second, then steps forward and pecks me on the lips. “Let’s go down to the debrief.”
And even though I’ve convinced him, he doesn’t leave my side the whole time we’re in the war room, and when we finally haul ass back upstairs, he sneaks into my room as soon as the hall is clear.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he climbs into bed with me.
“Being a good brofriend.”
“Sorry, dude, it is way too late for sex stuff.”
“Ah, yeah. Sex stuff. Damn.” He punches the pillow, then settles in. “Good night, then.”
“Umm … yeah.” I lie back down, acutely aware of him in the dark. “Good night.”