Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Zeke
“Think we’re good to go?” I shoot a look at Charles, who’s huddled in my hoodie, looking twenty shades of sexy.
“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone in there,” he answers.
I’d say that I bullied Charles into coming with me tonight, but I don’t think we actually talked about it.
We both assumed. And I’m actually grateful I don’t have to do this shit solo.
Anon said not to bring one of my frat brothers, and I’ve held up that side of the deal.
Plus, if Charles is here, hopefully that’ll stop dickweed from constantly trying to blame the shitty posts on him.
“Okay, well, no point hesitating.”
“I guess …” But he hesitates anyway.
Laughing, I grab the sleeve of my hoodie he’s wearing and drag him along with me. “Too late to chicken out now.”
“You’d think we’d be used to sneaking into buildings after hou—” He chokes on a sharp breath.
“You’re determined to relive that, aren’t you?”
“N-no, it’s … sorry. I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.”
And yet, every time he mentions it, it’s kinda nice. The reminder that those stolen moments were with an actual person. I throw him the side-eye. “You regret it?”
“What?”
“Hush Hush.”
His mouth works uselessly for a moment. “I—of course not.”
“Cool.” I wait for him to ask if I regret it, but the question doesn’t come.
Maybe unlike me, he doesn’t want the constant reminder that I’m the one he was with.
Sure, I’d been the one to suggest no names or references to what happened, but he was quick to agree, and neither of us has brought that rule up again.
We reach the back of the building, and like we were told, the door is unlocked.
“Not suspicious,” I say.
Charles is hovering close to my side, giving me a boost of confidence.
We creep in, careful to stay silent, and go down the short stairs to our left to the meeting room we’d been told about. It’s mostly used as storage now.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Kinda hard to think when I’m so focused on us not being caught.”
I chuckle and crack open the door to peek inside. There’s a long meeting table surrounded by chairs, and filling the rest of the space are discarded office chairs, banners and flags, old desks, and some sporting paraphernalia.
Charles tugs my shirt. “Maybe we should hide in there?” He thumbs toward the cleaning cupboard across from us.
“You think?”
“There’s a metal grate in the bottom of the door. If we bend one of the panels right, we’ll be able to see the hall outside.”
“Good point.” I test the door and find we’re in luck. It slips open easily, and when I duck down to check the grate, the metal is easy enough to twist for a slight peephole.
“Is that enough?” he asks.
“Yep. We can make out enough that we’ll see them when they get here. Then we wait for them to go in the room, follow, and take a pic before they know what’s happening.”
“It’s the only plan we have, so let’s try it.
” Charles follows me inside and pulls the door closed behind us.
The smell of dust and bleach is made stronger by the darkness.
I drop down to lie across the floor, face close to the grate, and Charles does the same.
His body heat closes the distance between us so strongly it’s as though he’s pressed to my side.
Then … we fall silent. It’s weird that just because I can no longer see him, my brain has suddenly cleared of any and all shit I could possibly say.
Maybe it’s because this is too much like the other times we’ve met in the dark, but unlike then, this is awkward.
At Hush Hush, we both know what we’re there for; no pretenses, no warming up to each other. We meet specifically to have sex.
It’s easy to relax and be in that moment.
Now …
“Ah, thanks for coming,” I eventually say.
“Of course. I want to clear my name as much as you want these rumors to go away.”
“Yeah … it’s wild that they’re trying to set you specifically up.”
His shoulder brushes mine. “I guess they knew that if they wanted to piss off Sigmas, I was the way to go hard there.”
It’s not like I can deny it, because it’s completely true, but the strain in his voice … I don’t like it. “Sorry. About that.”
“It is what it is. It’s not like I didn’t know about the rivalry when I stepped into this position.”
“Yeah, but … it’s not only the rivalry, is it?”
He stifles a laugh. “You mean how your entire house hates me and targets me with any pranks you run and makes out like I’m some big joke? Is that what you mean?”
“I guess so.”
He doesn’t immediately answer me. “I’ve learned to have thick skin growing up.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you can rest easy. I don’t think about you Sigmas nearly as much as you probably think about me.”
He’s got me there. The guy isn’t on my mind constantly, but even outside of Hush Hush, my thoughts do stray his way a fair bit.
If my brothers are planning a prank, I immediately picture him flushed and chewing me out.
If we have a meeting, I wonder how he runs his.
Any parties we go to, he’s the first one I look for.
To make sure he wasn’t up to shit, of course.
Which I’m well aware makes no sense, but I refuse to look any deeper into my actions.
“Well … good.” The reply doesn’t sum up the shitty feelings I have over how he’s treated, but if I actually care and want to stop being a dick … I just need to not be a dick.
The light from the tiny crack in front of us gives me enough vision to make out some of his features, so when I hear steady footsteps, I see the exact moment he picks up on them too.
I lift my finger to my mouth as though he doesn’t already know to keep quiet, and I swear we’re both holding our breath as the footsteps get closer.
They pause, and it sounds like whoever it is has stopped right outside, but not in a place where we can see anything other than their black Ultraboosts.
Charles and I exchange a confused look when—click. It comes from directly overhead.
The lock sliding into place is loud, and the footsteps immediately retreat.
“Fuck,” I whisper and spring to my feet. I try the door, but it’s no use. “Double fuck.”
Charles’s phone light comes alive, and he reaches for the lock on this side, but it just spins around and around. “Broken.”
“Dammit.”
“Was that them, do you think? Anon?”
“Who else would have known we were here?”
“But …” Charles’s jaw tenses. “How did they know we were here?”
“Shit …” I throw my shoulder into the door, but it doesn’t budge.
Charles parks his ass back on the floor. “We can call security to let us out.”
“And deal with some dumbass wannabe cop? No, thank you.”
“So what’s your plan, then?”
I hesitate and slowly sit back next to him. We’re so close my knee knocks against his. “We could call one of our brothers to let us out?”
“Are you going to explain why we’re together?”
I snort. “It’s not like we have anything to hide. This time.”
He hums noncommittally, and I pull out my phone. “Larken will be less likely to give us shit.”
“Okay, do it. It’s not like we have any other choice here.”
Thankfully when I call through, he answers right away, and luckily he’s still at the library on campus. He’s got his puppy dog voice on and assures me he’ll be here as soon as he can.
We hang up, and the display shows it’s past eighty thirty. Looks like we weren’t the only ones staking out the place early.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone rings again. “Shit, I’m sorry, Zeke. I can’t get in.”
“You tried the back door?”
“Yep, it’s locked.”
Of course it is. I thank him, and after promising for the billionth time that we’ll be fine and will call in the morning if we’re still here, he hangs up. “So, we’re fucked.”
Charles curses under his breath. “What do you think will happen if we’re found here?”
“If? I think that’s a guarantee. I’m more worried about if one of us needs to piss.”
He cringes. “Let’s not think about that and hope we get lucky.”
I look around, thanks to his phone light. “There’s a bucket there. Plus a ton of bleach if we need to do cleanup.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
I snigger and stretch my legs out as best I can in the small space.
“What time do you think the cleaners will arrive?” he asks.
“Early, I guess.”
My phone buzzes beside me, and I scoop it up to find a cocky-ass message.
Anon7136:
Cozy?
That fuck.
Me:
Let me guess, this is you creating evidence of what assholes Sigmas are, huh? Hoping the dean will catch us?
Anon7136:
Nah, just waiting to see your brother’s reaction to you spending the night with the enemy
Charles and I exchange a look in the low light from his phone. It hits me that he’s leaning in really fucking close to read. “The enemy?”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping his gaze. “That’s weird.”
“Maybe. Our rivalry is pretty well-known on campus.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t everyone know it’s not serious? Yeah, we mess with each other, but at the end of the day, it’s all in good fun.”
“There are some people—even in our houses—that need reminding of that though.”
His tone catches my suspicion. “Like?”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you? Robbie, Chad, any of their little prodigies.”
“What about Lucas? That shit actively plotted against Bailey and Chad, and you still have him in your house.”
Charles scowls, and damn, I shouldn’t find the way his haughty face screws up adorable.
“Lucas planned the prank exactly the way we all knew it would go. The only thing he didn’t tell us about was paying Carter to make sure the house was empty.
Carter—your pledge—took it on himself to seal the windows. ”
Okay, so maybe Charles has a point. “This wasn’t one of my brothers.”
“Seems like the kind of thing Robbie would do.”
“Nah, he’s harmless.” A detail occurs to me. “And his feet are bigger than whoever that was. Plus, no way could Robbie afford Ultraboosts.”
“Aren’t they a staple at Sigma house?”
I shake my head. “For some of the guys, but most of us have knockoffs. Or got them for Christmas or whatever. Those ones looked brand-new.”
“Well, Christmas was only a few months ago.”
“Yeah?” I lift an eyebrow. “And how are your shoes doing after trekking through all the slush out there?”
“Good point. Also why I wear boots.” We both fall into thought. “Maybe they were a birthday present?”
I sigh. “You’re determined to pin it on my guys.”
“They’re the most obvious. There’s the whole setting me up thing—and yeah, they were definitely setting me up because they knew who you were talking about when you hinted you thought it was me. You didn’t mention a gender, but they said him.”
“Good point.”
“Then they called me the enemy, and they’re wearing those shoes—”
“That about a billion other people on campus wear.”
“Not in the snow, they don’t. It’s a total frat-guy shoe.”
I cross my arms. “You’re forgetting one thing though.”
“Which is?”
“Why the hell would any of my brothers want to get us shut down?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that. I get it, why he thinks what he does. It would be the most obvious option, except that all of my brothers love frat life. Even the ones who don’t live in the house are active members, and we have more engagement from our guys than probably any other frat.
Charles shifts, then says, “I’m going to turn the light off. Save my battery, you know.”
“Sure thing.”
He plunges us into darkness again. I can’t make out anything other than minuscule movement and the smell of those caramel candles. After a couple of minutes, I catch his soft breathing, and when he shifts again, his leg brushes mine.
“Sorry,” he half whispers.
“All good.” Hey, I wouldn’t mind him doing it again. Closer. Instead of his leg brushing mine, I can picture him throwing it over my thighs to straddle me. I let out a long, silent breath as I try to refocus my thoughts.
“Y-you know what this reminds me of …” Charles asks, breaking the quiet.
I groan. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Suddenly shy?” He has the faintest teasing note to his words that makes me smile.
“Nah, don’t want to be tempted.”
He lets out a weird noise, and I laugh.
“We’re pushing our luck being here at all, let alone if the cleaners walk in and it smells like sex.”
“W-we have bleach for cleanup …”
All replies halt in my throat because I don’t think he’s teasing anymore. I think he’s actually offering. And damn do I want to say yes. I mean, sex. Great, right? But something about him being here with me, talking to me and wearing my hoodie, is giving me all kinds of reservations.
So as much as it kills me, I grit my teeth and turn him down. “Probably not a good idea.”
“No. Right. Of course.”
I don’t know what to say after that. Neither does he, apparently, and so we sit there, this thick tension between us. Maybe he doesn’t feel it, but I’m warring with the urges to either run far or to climb into his lap.
Somehow, I keep my hands to myself, and conversation slowly returns until Charles shifts down farther on the floor and falls asleep. I stay sitting, determined to last out the night and be ready for the second I hear the cleaners outside.
But the next thing I know, I’m falling backward. The warm weight on my lap connects with my knee, and it takes me a couple of seconds to blink up against the harsh light.
When my vision comes back, I wish I could shut it off again.
Dean Hutchins stares down at me, lips pressed tight. “There had better be a good explanation for this, Zeke.”
Motherfucker.
The upside of running a house full of the college’s top athletes: the dean knows your name.
The downside: the dean knows your name, making it so much easier for him to fuck you with it.
I try for a winning smile. “Do I have a story for you.”