Larken
“It’s summer time, bitches!” Robbie crows, coming to an abrupt stop in the pick-up truck he got from who knows where.
“You’re a month or so early, Rob-dog,” Brandon says, patting the hood as he rounds it to open Robbie’s door.
With that reminder of time, delayed panic tries to creep over me.
In just a few weeks, those guys are graduating and I’ll officially be in charge.
Well, after summer break, that is. But even in the summer there will be things to do as president of Sigma Beta Psi, and unlike the last month or so where I’ve stepped fully into the role, I won’t have Zeke there to guide me.
Like now.
When our risk manager and social chair are clearly up to something. While I’m happy that they’ve finally stopped their bickering and teamed up, I’m also ninety percent sure that they’ve teamed up for evil and as president, I should probably do something about that.
I clear my throat and cross the front lawn but stumble over my steps as the rest of the street comes into view.
Oh, holy shit.
“You actually did it,” I say weakly.
The street has been blocked off, and from Sigma all the way to Kappa house is a Slip ’N Slide, thanks to the help of yoga mats, trash bags, and whatever the fuck that is over the top of them.
“The idea was gold,” Robbie says, jumping out of the cab. “I couldn’t leave here without doing it.”
“You’ll all get hypothermia,” Zeke says dryly.
“Says the guy who swims at five am through winter.”
He shrugs and looks to me. “Your call, Prez.”
Oh no … Zeke, Robbie, and Brandon are all staring my way just as Doomsen rounds the house, pulling the hose behind him.
“What’s the hold up?”
“Apparently we need the all-clear from Larken.” Robbie crosses his arms, eyeing me like he’s debating whether to lock me in the house before I can answer, or after.
I’m definitely going to regret this.
“Approved!”
“Yes.” Robbie fist pumps the air, and Brandon looks me over like I’m pathetic. Can’t say I disagree with him.
As Robbie and Chad line the truck bed with tarps and fill it with water, Miles walks up beside me.
“And that is why I’m not going for an executive position next year.”
“You don’t wanna follow in my footsteps?
” I ask, nudging him. Even as a sophomore, Miles is one of the key members of Sigma Beta Psi.
He moved into the pledge hall after rush, before bidding for a shared room this year.
Next year, he’ll have his own, and I honestly have no idea if that’s going to make his homesickness better or worse.
“Nope. If I’m away from home, I’ve gotta focus on hockey and classes. Nothing else.”
“Fair enough.” I’m just another bench warmer on the WHU football team, so this presidency won’t be getting in the way of anything important.
“Yo, precums!” Robbie yells, and I sigh.
Miles laughs. “Why does he call you that?”
“It was originally Pre-Prez, but then he said he changed it to Pre-Captain of my University’s Mighty Sigmas.”
“In other words, he wants to call you precum and came up with a bullshit explanation of the acronym?”
“Got it in one.”
“Classy as ever, Harrows,” Charles says, joining Zeke. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Sam approved it!” Doomsen yells over the sound of the water pouring out of the hose and hitting the tarp.
“Sam didn’t approve it.”
“Did too. Bailey said.”
“Bailey’s bullshitting you.”
Doomsen goes to argue back, but then snaps his mouth shut. “That little shit.”
And not only did I approve this fuckery, I didn’t even think to check with the other presidents on the row. I really am going to be the worst president in Sigma history. That title almost went to Zeke, with us getting shut down, but thankfully he got us back up and running just in time.
Or … unfortunately, depending on how you look at it.
Because now I have to actually be president.
I’m equal parts excited and terrified.
“Want me to grab a water gun, fill it with soda, and start shooting?” Miles suggests.
“Nah, we’re in it now.”
“Guess it is their last chance for idiocy. Might as well let the old guys have their fun before they break a hip.”
“I heard that,” Zeke calls.
“Oh, good.” Miles grins his way. “Don’t need hearing aids just yet then.”
“Are we doing the Slip ’N Slide?” Rooster calls, barreling out of the house. A whole group of brothers follow him, wanting to get in on the action. And I don’t blame them. This is what we live for. A core pillar of Sigma Beta Psi is having as much harmless fun as possible and fuck the consequences.
Sure, we might get some complaints about people having to drive around to the next street, but most people know not to drive down the Row during the semester anyway. And what are they going to do, expel Robbie, Brandon and Chad? They’ve all but got their diplomas.
“Sure are,” I tell Rooster, still going back and forth on whether I made the right call.
Robbie jogs over to me and slaps both hands down on my shoulders. “You’re up, precums.”
“I’m not doing that thing.”
“Of course you are. It’s the frat way. Presidents always have to open the events and you can’t tell me this isn’t an event.”
“It isn’t—”
He slaps a hand down over my mouth. “Do not utter those words.”
“It’s basically our graduation party,” Doomsen shouts. “Don’t ruin our fun.”
“Isn’t that what you said about the sex doll tent?” Miles asks.
“And the street wide silent disco?” I add.
“And the impromptu king of thieves day that you dragged every house into and it just wound up being everyone running for their lives with their arms full of anything they could get their hands on?” Rooster smirks around the bite of his sandwich.
“Actually, that one was just for the chaos.” Doomsen pretends to swipe at a tear. “Ah, good times.”
Chaos was right. Trying to rehome everything took a fucking committee. There was a broken leg, black eyes, scratches, and that one guy who tried to jump from the Epsilon roof to the Gamma’s and ended up with six busted ribs.
“No broken bones this time,” I warn.
“No broken bones,” Brandon echoes. “Got it.”
“Where are we at with hypothermia, though?” And Robbie’s tone is so genuine, I almost think he’s serious.
Almost.
I know him way too well for that.
They leave to get shit ready and I exchange a look with Rooster.
“If I have to start off that death trap, you’ll be right after me.”
“Sounds good to me. We’re a team.”
Then I throw a look Miles’s way. “You too.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re in the general vicinity and the hockey season is over. Your coach won’t kill me if you break something.”
“My momma will though.”
“Yikes. She might be just as scary.”
“Scarier. I’m her favorite.”
“Well, fuck me.”
Rooster laughs and shoves me. “Not us, but maybe one of them.” He nods toward the two loved up couples and Doomsen. “Robbie and Brandon seem like the types to take a third.”
“They also seem like the types to be into some real freaky shit that I don’t need to know about.”
Miles scoffs. “If you got out of the pledge hall without knowing all the freaking shit there is to know, you got off lightly.”
“I’ll be sure to let your momma know you’re not so innocent anymore.”
“Think she figured that out in ninth grade when she walked in on me with Lacy Gillick in my bed.”
“Did she join you?” Rooster asks. “That’s what y’alls do in the south, ain’t it?”
“Fuck you. I don’t even speak like that.”
“Sure you don’t, buddy.”
Miles flips us off and leaves as Zeke joins me. Charles is supervising the three dipsticks, which is probably just as well.
“Think I made the right call?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Come on, give me something. Yes, no, maybe?”
“Are you asking me about your call or out on a date?”
I groan and hang my head back, which only makes Zeke laugh.
“You’ve gotta get used to backing yourself.”
“Not sure I’m there yet.”
“Eh. You’d be surprised.”
I swallow hard and look at him properly. He’s been my mentor for the better half of this year, and I’ve actually learned a lot from Zeke. The whole staying cool under pressure is something I’m still working on. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“I get the feeling once these three weeks are up that you’ll be ready to kick me out the door.”
“Doubt it.”
He looks me over, then claps me on the shoulder. “You made the right call.”
“Really?” That perks me up.
“Not about that,” Zeke waves a hand toward the street. “You’re on your own there. No, the right call you made was becoming president.”
And that might just be the best compliment he’s ever given me.
“Thanks.”
“And as president …” Robbie launches himself at me, Doomsen right behind him. Robbie wrestles me to the ground as Dooms grabs my legs and Brandon’s arms lock around my waist. The three of them heave me off the ground, squirming in their hold, and carry me toward the Slip ’N Slide.
“One …” They fucking swing me.
“Two …”
Oh, no.
At three, I slam my eyes closed, and just … let go.
I’m still fully clothed when they throw me.
It’s a hard landing, but whatever they’ve covered this thing with is slick as fuck, because I take off, sailing down Greek Row like a motherfucking hockey puck.
The cold doesn’t bother me, how to stop isn’t a concern.
I’ve left my gut behind with the others and I’m flying.
Soaring.
Having the time of my life.
I definitely made the right call.
The pool noodles at the end slow my speed until I come to a stop just before the slide ends and the road begins. As usual, my brothers have thought of everything.
I jump up, throwing my hands in the air. “Fucking awesome!”
And like he was waiting for the all-clear that I didn’t, I dunno, die or something, Rooster hits the slide next.
I get back to the front of Sigma house, where Zeke, Robbie, Brandon, and Doomsen are in the pool in the back of the pick-up truck. Beers in hand—or in Robbie’s case, in hat—I have to laugh at them. If anything can be said about the four of them, they know how to have fun.
“Coming up?” Zeke calls.
I scramble to join them like a puppy offered treats. I’ll never be as cool as these guys, but fuck I’m going to try.
Robbie hands over a beer. “For you. Prez.”
For the first time maybe ever, that word doesn’t fill me with fear.
I point to where Miles and Shifley are both readying for a run-up. “Dish duty tonight says Miles wins.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Brandon bumps fists with me.
It doesn’t take long for the rest of the houses to join us. Pool inflatables come out, water guns and balloons. Sun loungers dot the yards of the houses around us, where people kick back, laughing and drinking.
This is what college is about.
And Sigmas are the ones who make it happen. It’s a lot of pressure to take on, a big responsibility propped squarely on my shoulders, but for the first time ever I feel confident.
Next year is going to be the funnest one ever.