Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Zeke
Robbie, Chad, and Brandon are only too happy to film the corniest, cheesiest, most ridiculous videos for Christa’s social media, which are blowing the hell up. Bailey was a reluctant participant in some of them too.
We also sent through every prank we’d recorded over the years for her to use however the hell she wanted. I’m putting a lot of faith in her with that shit, but at this point, can things get any worse?
The meeting has lit a fire under my ass though, and I’m determined to have this thing wrapped up before I graduate. While they all deal with taking our positive-angle approach to the next level, I’m scouring campus for any sign of this motherfucker.
It’s a guy.
He has black shoes.
And the asshole thinks his shit don’t stink.
It’s not a lot to go on, but I’m determined.
From walking into the wrong classes to check people out, to messaging the fucker nonstop, hoping for details, to staking my ass outside the dean’s offices through the day, I’m here for it all.
I have a running list of anyone who could fit the brief, but most people on it I don’t even know, let alone have beef with them.
Anytime I’m not studying, swimming, or having sex, I’m poring over that goddamn list.
I walk into the kitchen to refill my water bottle and find Robbie at the small table, sorting M&Ms into colors.
“You good, man?” I ask.
He huffs and scoops the blue ones up to pour into his mouth. “Not how I imagined the rest of the year would go, I’ve gotta say.”
“You and me both.”
The chair he’s sitting in creaks as he leans back into it. “No chance we can say fuck the rules and do what we want anyway?”
“Not while there’s still a chance of being reinstated. If we’d been shut down, I’d say to go nuts.”
“It fucking sucks.” He sounds devastated, and as president, I’m completely responsible for not saving us. I pat his shoulder and leave the kitchen, with no idea what else to say, but before I’ve even made it to my room, a sound from outside makes me pause.
Robbie’s head pokes into the hall. “What was that?”
It happens again.
“A trumpet?”
Robbie’s whole face lights up, and he heads for the front door.
“I swear,” I say, following him. “If this is another flash mob marching band, I’m going to have your balls.”
“Good luck getting them back from Brandon,” he throws over his shoulder.
When we reach the front door, we’re not the first ones there, and I have to push by my brothers crowding the front deck to see what has their attention.
And what I see …
A red carpet has been rolled out from the road to our front steps, two dudes holding horns standing on either side, and gathered on the lawn are the brothers from Kappa house, all in suits and holding a rose.
“What the shit is this?” Robbie asks.
I glance around and find Christa recording as Bailey breaks away from the group, hits the red carpet, and approaches Chad, holding out the rose. “Will you be my date to spring formal?”
I choke back a laugh at how Chad lights up. Jesus fuck, those two. All this for a date request.
Chad accepts, and they kiss, and I’m about to go back inside when Jordan makes his way down the red carpet.
“Miles?” he calls out.
I glance over at our loveable hockey player to find him blushing to his ears.
“Ah, yeah?” he asks, looking everywhere but at Jordan.
“Wanna come to spring formal with me, dude?”
“With … you?” He glances around again like he’s waiting for someone to laugh. To be fair, I think we’re all feeling a bit that way, judging by the confused looks on my brother’s faces. “Ah, like, a date? Because sorry, man, I’m not—”
Jordan laughs. “Me neither. But it’s not spring formal without you guys, and at our last meeting, we voted—”
Another Kappa brother walks up the red carpet and approaches Rooster.
“—and figured we’d rather date you assholes for a night than have you all miss out.”
Miles twitches, then reaches out and takes the rose. “For real? But you guys hate us.”
“This is more important.” Jordan winks. “We can hate you again once it’s over.”
All around me, brothers are being offered roses and being stunned into silence. Sigmas are blushing left and right, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard my guys fucking silent.
“Is this even allowed?” Miles asks, turning to me.
I shrug. “Technically, we’re not allowed to engage in any fraternity-related events …”
My words trail off as Charles steps onto the red carpet, and nerves hit me square in the gut.
His eyes meet mine, and I know without a doubt that he’s going to ask me instead of covering for us and asking someone else, and maybe I’m a dumbass, but I hadn’t even seen this coming, even as all my brothers were approached.
I feel sick in a good kind of way that makes my head swim and a smile hitch one side of my mouth.
Charles jogs up the stairs. “I believe the bylaws prohibit suspended fraternities from organizing and participating in any fraternity events, however, they don’t have a clause outlining the legality of active fraternity members inviting suspended brothers as their dates.
” He holds up the rose, and I’m giddy—fucking giddy—over something as dumb as a formal and this setup and the fact my brothers are all standing around, waiting to follow my lead.
I take the flower. “You are one smart motherfucker, Charlie.”
And with my acceptance, a chorus of “fuck, yeses” follow me. Robbie grabs Sam in a bear hug and lifts him off his feet while he points at the Kappa who’s asked Brandon and warns, “He’s not gonna put out, so don’t think about it.”
Brandon responds by wrapping his arm around his date’s waist and blowing Robbie a kiss.
Conversation swells up around us, Kappas and Sigmas talking and laughing and what?
I gape at Charles and his smug smile. “You planned this.”
“Eh. Apparently, we’re fond of idiot jocks who don’t know when to quit.”
“I never …” I glance around at my guys, absorbing their excitement and energy. We’re no closer to removing the suspension, but the fact that we still get to do this is huge. And the Kappas made it happen. “How are we supposed to go back to hating you guys after this?” I ask.
Charles laughs. “You don’t. We leave the juniors to carry on that legacy, and the rest of us just … relax.”
Relax? That word isn’t in my vocabulary, but I can’t say it isn’t tempting. The sooner we can get these rumors wrapped up and my frat reinstated, the sooner I can hand everything off to Larken and … let go.
Before I can second-guess myself, I haul Charles into a quick hug. He’s warm, sweet-smelling comfort. I’m reluctant to let him go, but I do, slowly, achingly, fighting the urge to tug him back in again.
His bluebrowngreen—whatever—eyes meet mine, and our secret passes between us until we’re both smiling again.
“Will you come to spring formal with me”—he lowers his voice—“boyfriend?”
“It’s a date.” Our very first one.