Adam
The sun is high and blinding as I walk University Hill, taking in the crisp Colorado air with each breath.
September at Palm South always meant pool parties and sweating every walk to class, but here?
The days are pleasantly warm, the evenings cool, fall constantly whispering in your ear that it’s well on its way.
I’ve got my hands tucked into the pockets of my light jacket, one branded with the Alpha Sigma letters and given to me when I joined the national staff as a Field Executive.
The summer in Boston was a crash-course of learning — not necessarily the fraternity rituals or standards, which I already knew well — but rather how I would take my knowledge and experience from the last four years and apply them in my new role.
A role they did everything they could to prepare me for, but I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll be so easy.
In their eyes, Field Executives are welcome with open arms, but if I know anything about fraternities, it’s that having someone from nationals visit is hardly ever a good thing — and I wouldn’t be anyone’s favorite guest of honor.
Every chapter I visit, every group of guys I seek to mentor will need me for some reason, whether they want to admit it or not.
And the group here in Boulder definitely falls under the not category.
There are a few brothers sprawled on the grass when I reach the A Sig house, a monstrous Neo-classical beast that puts every house at Palm South to shame.
Aspen University is older than Palm South, more prestigious, and has four times the amount of students.
They also have more money, and their “Greek Row” is spread out all over The Hill, giant mansions with letters proudly fixed to the front like Easter eggs you can’t help but hunt as you walk.
The brothers I pass by give me nods of hello, most of them friendly, most of them glad I’m there. The past two years of recruitment haven’t gone so well, and though I was able to help them get a better turnout this year, my work had only just begun.
Through Rush Week, I’d become close with a lot of the brothers — the president and recruitment chair, the philanthropic chair, who I was most excited to work with, and a number of brothers of various ages.
The new pledges knew me as if I was the House Director, and I intended to earn everyone’s trust by the time I left — and to leave them in better shape than I found them.
Oddly enough, the current brothers aren’t the issue.
It’s the alumni presiding over the chapter that take the cake.
It’s standard to have older brothers governing each Alpha Sigma chapter.
After all, leaving a national organization in the hands of a bunch of rowdy college kids wouldn’t work out in anyone’s favor.
Still, the goal of the alumni members is simply to ensure order.
They may be present at chapter meetings to make sure everything is done correctly, may sign off on philanthropic or social events, and may step in to take care of punishment should one of the brothers, or all of them, need it.
But it’s the current brothers who run exec, who make decisions, who hold their brothers accountable and make a name for the chapter on campus.
Or at least, it’s supposed to be.
I pull my shoulders back as I walk through the front door of the house, preparing myself for the meeting ahead.
I can’t help but smile at the various pods of brothers as I pass through the house — some playing video games, some studying, some in the backyard playing beer pong.
On the surface, everything looks right, looks in place, looks successful.
But this chapter has slowly gained the reputation for being dull and old school, for not performing in athletics, scholarship, or social activities, and for just being lackluster, in general.
And it didn’t take me long to figure out that the alumni were the reason for most of it.
That’s why I called this meeting, and though I know it won’t be easy, I pray the guys will hear me out and make changes to better our presence on the Aspen University campus.
I take my time setting up the meeting room, setting the donuts I picked up from the popular spot on The Hill right in the center of the boardroom table. There are four alumni chapter advisors who preside over this particular chapter, and one by one, they all file in.
There aren’t technically supposed to be titles among them, but when I met them the first time, they introduced themselves as Shawn, Secretary, Derek, Treasurer, Jared, Vice President, and Corey, President.
Corey was, so far, the biggest pain in my ass.
As they sit down and mutter among themselves, I find myself wishing Cassie were here. I would give anything to have had her in my arms before this meeting, to be kissing her senseless before running out the door, to know I had her just down the block when the meeting’s over.
As it is, I’ll have to settle for texts, phone calls, and the occasional video chat.
Memories of our last video chat bring a whole new slew of thoughts to mind, but I clear my throat and tamper them down, saving that energy for later.
“Gentlemen, thank you for joining me,” I start, and that quiets the room.
Corey, the president, and Jared, the VP, both watch me with bored, suspicious glares, but the other two offer smiles and their full attention.
I could tell after the first twenty minutes with them that they’re divided, but with the two snarly ones being the oldest and regarded as the highest roles, they seem to make all the rules.
My plan is to change that.
“I’ll try to make this as brief as possible, as I know you all have jobs and lives to get back to.”
I make sure I say that last part firmly, because I want to remind them that they are not, in fact, frat brothers anymore.
“As you know, recruitment went well, all things considered, but having a great pledge class won’t erase the hard work ahead of us.
I have put together a plan that attacks three main categories of focus this semester: athletics, scholarship, and social activity,” I explain, watching the room as the guys read over the binders I’ve put together in front of them.
“I think we should focus on athletics and social activity first and foremost, with scholarship and philanthropy being introduced but more heavily focused on in the next semester.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Corey says instantly. “Why wouldn’t it be scholarship and philanthropy first? What, are we trying to be the party boys now?”
“No,” I assure him. “However, these are kids. Think back to when you were eighteen, nineteen, even twenty. Did you care about your grades or giving to the community as much as you did about partying with your brothers, making out with girls, and winning championships?”
Shawn snorts. “God, no.”
Corey glares at him, then says, “Maybe this is how things were run in Florida, Adam, but we have more prestigious goals here.”
“That may be,” I say, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking I give a rat’s ass about what he thinks of me or my chapter.
“But these brothers need a win. They need to throw a great party, as weird as that sounds. A safe party, but a rager, nonetheless. And they need to feel like they’re gaining popularity, like they stand a chance at being known on The Hill. ”
“I agree,” Derek says. “But honestly, I don’t see how these goals are achievable.
” He reads from the list. “Win the IM football championship, create a new annual Alpha Sigma event with high Greek Life attendance, host a social at a new and exciting venue?” He shakes his head. “We need actual athletes. And money.”
“You’ve got more talent here than you give yourself credit for.
I’ve been watching the guys, and I think if we talk to the Athletics Chair, we can get them to gather the new pledges as well as the older brothers together and get a good team going.
We have two weeks until the sign-up date, three weeks until the first game. ”
“And what about this fancy new event?” Corey asks. “Who’s going to come up with that?”
“The brothers, of course,” I say without blinking. “This is their chapter. They’re young and creative, give them a shot to come up with some ideas that we can sign off on. That’s our role, after all,” I remind them.
There’s a pregnant pause before Jared sighs and drops his binder to the table. “I think this is a terrible idea.”
“Listen, guys, I know it’s hard to step out of the comfort zone, to throw all our eggs into baskets we can’t even see yet.
But I’ve been trained,” I say, trying to earn their trust. “Give me a chance to prove I know what I’m doing.
And if you still feel like I’m a nutcase by the end of the semester, I’ll write to nationals myself and ask them to place me elsewhere. ”
“I don’t know why they sent you in the first place,” Corey mutters, which earns him an eye roll from Shawn that I smirk at.
“Let me talk with the Athletics Chair,” I say calmly. “We became fast friends over Rush Week. And at our next chapter, I’ll introduce the event, get the brothers excited and thinking.”
“I guess we don’t really have a choice,” Jared says.
I smile and nod, letting them know the meeting is over.
Because no — they don’t have a choice.
I saw Ricky, the Athletics Chair, playing beer pong in the backyard on my way up to the meeting, so I stop to talk to him on my way out the door. As I expected, he’s pumped about the challenge, and a few brothers in the yard are already chomping at the bit to help him put the team together.
I clap him on the back and leave them to it, then check my watch, deciding I should head to the Student Union to fill out paperwork and get a date reserved for our on-campus event.
On the way, I text Cassie, and I’m so locked into our conversation that I don’t notice the poor girl crossing my path until I run her over, literally knocking her over and leaving her sprawled out on the lawn below me.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I say, hurriedly putting my phone away before I reach down a hand to help her up.
The girl has long, thick, messy black hair and tattoos lining both her arms. When she looks up at me, I’m knocked silent by shocking blue-green eyes outlined by dark charcoal and lashes. Her dusty-pink lips curve into a smile at the sight of me, and she lets me take her hand and pull her up.
She’s wearing a tight, crop t-shirt with some band name I don’t recognize, and I swear on my life her tits are bigger than any I’ve ever seen in person.
Pair that with her slim waist, thick hips, and ripped-up black jeans, and she’s in a whole league of her own.
My eyes flick to her combat boots that I’m hoping she doesn’t want to stomp me with, but she just dusts herself off with a chuckle once she’s fully upright, arching a brow at me.
“It’s all good. Maybe keep an eye on the road there, though, eh?”
I try to smile against the grimace coming to me naturally. “Sorry,” I say again. Stupidly.
The girl just nods, and then with a curious smile, she leaves me and continues on her way.
Stitched into the pocket of her backpack are the letters ΔBΓ, and I can’t help but shake my head, because I would have bet money she was at least a grad student, if not older.
I think of when I met Cassie, how sweet and innocent she was, how she was naturally beautiful without a stitch of makeup on, how she looked so young and full of life. This girl was built like a woman, with eyes that told me she had stories and scars alike.
But times are changing, and young girls don’t look as young to me as they should, I guess.
I shake my head, pulling out my phone again as I continue on my way to the Union.
But this time, I decide to call instead of text.