Chapter 3 Elias #3
I come around the desk and perch against it, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. Perhaps I can preempt an attack? I have no desire to be captain of a team, but I do have a strong desire to get more attention than the captain of this team. To be considered a better player than he is.
“Why aren’t you out there having fun with your fraternity friends?”
“We refer to each other as brothers.”
“That’s weird.”
His eyes get even wider than they already were. They’re a very warm shade of brown, matching his shaggy hair, and all big and doe-like.
I can see he’s not used to people being so—some may say rude—honest.
“If you think we’re weird, why did you agree to come to a sorority party?”
Because I wanted to get the low-down on my competition. There’s honest, and there’s showing your hand. I play my cards close to my chest and shrug apathetically. “I was curious.”
He snorts before composing himself. I enjoy the flicker of honesty. The stuffy exterior showing some cracks. It must be exhausting being polite all the time. And in Ben’s case, to hide your feelings from everyone while doing it.
“Who’s the guy with Nate?” I ask, pretending I haven’t already been introduced. I want to see how Ben reacts when he talks about his competition.
Ben swallows. “That’s Evan, Nate’s boyfriend.”
I nod. “How long have they been together?”
“They got together last year, but they grew up together. Evan was Nate’s next-door neighbor until he was fifteen.”
First love. That’s got to suck for Ben. I’m transported back to being fifteen myself, falling for my ‘straight’ best friend.
How exciting it was when I thought he liked me back.
And how he led me on for years. Coming back when he wanted something, making promises he knew he wouldn’t keep.
Between countless girlfriends and painful PDAs to prove to the world he was something that he wasn’t.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ben asks.
I flash a smile, hopping up to sit on the desk. I’m being a dick. If I want to discover how Ben deals with competition, this is not the way to do it. I know how it feels to be messed around by your supposed best friend and be left heartbroken.
“Yeah. I was just wondering if Nate would try to give me another lecture about going into rooms I haven’t been invited into.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He’s blushing.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re in here?”
“I just.…” he gestures to the party outside.
“Needed to escape?”
He squares his shoulders. “I’m the vice president of a fraternity and captain of the tennis team.”
I nod, waiting for the point. When one doesn’t come, I ask, “And?”
Ben slouches into a wingback chair, his half-empty cup of ‘beer’ almost spilling between his legs. “And I shouldn’t be hiding out at parties. I should be …” He makes air quotes with one hand. “Mingling.”
I laugh. God, he’s being ridiculous right now. And strangely cute. Is he ‘placebo-effect-drunk?’
No, Elias, he is your competition. It doesn’t matter if he’s cute.
“Well.…” I push off the desk and step around him to study a book next to his head. He won’t look up at me. Just keeps swirling his watery beer around in the cup and looking forlorn.
He’s wearing some incredibly stuffy blazer and a pair of suit trousers with a stiff, white shirt.
He looks like he’s about to go to work in a bank, not like a college guy at a party.
Is this what all Ivy League fraternity men dress like?
Constantly in preparation for the world they’re about to rule?
He slouches back in the huge chair and his trousers tighten around his crotch. I look away.
“What’s so bad about the party, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing.” Ben sighs. “It’s just that Nate keeps trying to set me up with …” he stops abruptly before looking up at me with those big eyes. “Guys.”
I swallow. It’s audible in the quiet space but Ben makes no sign of having heard.
“And what? You don’t like guys?”
“No, I do.”
I swallow. I knew that from the way he looked at Nate, but him saying it confirms that he’s also out. Are these guys in the gayest fraternity in the world? If I’d have known things like that existed, I might have come to college years ago.
“So, what’s the problem?”
I think I know what the problem is. But I’d like to hear him say it. Or watch him lie.
He mumbles something unintelligible.
“Why don’t you just tell Nate you don’t want to be set up?”
“Tried that.”
I snort. How hypocritical. The guy who just gave us a lecture about consent can’t take no for an answer.
Ben sees the judgement on my face because he rushes to explain. “He’s just trying to be a good friend.”
“He must be oblivious if he can’t see … that it’s making you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not …” Ben squirms in the chair. “It isn’t making me uncomfortable. I’d just rather not date anyone right now.”
“Why not?”
“I’m busy.”
I snort. “Too busy to … what do you call it here … get laid?”
His whole face flushes down to his neck this time. It’s oddly endearing.
“Yes, too busy to … do that.”
He can’t even say it. God, is this guy a virgin?
Before I can say anything more, we’re interrupted.
“Hey, here you guys are.”
Ben’s head snaps up at the sound of Nate’s voice. What does he see in that guy? He’s so boring-looking. If you asked me to describe a typical college athlete-type frat boy, it would be Nate. All floppy brown hair and boringly handsome features. Probably a six pack under that shirt.
Nate turns to Ben, blocking me out. “Mackenzie’s cousin’s getting here soon. He wants to meet you.”
Ben’s shoulders sag. I feel sorry for the guy. I’m about to jump in and save him when I consider the possibility that if he’s distracted by all this nonsense, he won’t be able to overshadow me on the court.
I throw him another glance and see that he’s biting his lip, looking uncomfortable and deeply unhappy. I’m reminded of my first unrequited crush. How I had to see the guy every day for years and how much it hurt seeing him with someone else.
Schei?e.
“Ben was just about to take me home, actually. I have a terrible headache.”
They both look at me like they don’t understand. Did I slip out of English?
Nate blinks a few times before composing himself. “I can call you an Uber if you need to leave. One of the pledges can—”
“No, Nate, I’m captain of the team. I should make sure he gets home alright.”
Go Ben! Way to finally stand up for yourself. Wait, why am I cheering him on?
“Well, if you’re sure, I guess I’ll tell Mackenzie her cousin can meet you some other time.”
We’re silent as we make our way down the driveway of the sorority house. It’s only once we’re halfway down the street that Ben speaks.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know.”
“I really do have a headache.”
He looks at me dubiously.
“All that frat/sorority talk and whatever terrible music they were playing in there was bringing on a migraine.”
We’re quiet again for a moment. I want to ask him how far he’s walking with me, and where his frat house is. But something tells me I don’t need to worry. I probably won’t end up naked and tied to a lamppost tonight. I may have incorrect information on fraternities after all.
“Why did you save me back there?” Ben asks.
“I wanted to leave and it seemed like a good out for us both.”
He seems momentarily satisfied at least with that explanation.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to the frat house so you can call an Uber.”
Why does a fizz of excitement start in my stomach at the thought of being in a frat house? Must be something Joelle said.
“Is that allowed?”
He snorts. “Of course. We have parties and invite people all the time.”
“Toga parties?”
“No, that’s just in the movies. Though, sometimes there are costume parties.”
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever dressed up as?”
“Me?” He blushes. “Oh, I don’t dress up.”
“Why not?”
“Our old president didn’t like anyone to dress up as anything silly, so it’s only been the past year—while Nate’s been in charge—that we’ve tried things like that. I’m the vice president now, so I get to opt out.”
I push down the part of me that is impressed by Ben being the vice president of something. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“So, you’d dress up in a costume?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Okay, next party we have at the frat, we’ll make it a costume party and I get to tell you what to wear.”
“Deal. But only if I get to tell you what to wear.”
He blushes deeper, looking down at his shoes. “Forget it.”
“No fun,” I tease.
He offers me a smile, but it’s a sad one.
“Here we are.” Ben stops at the end of the driveway of yet another mansion. This one is all red brick with sturdy pillars and a big banner with some of those ancient Greek letters you see everywhere on this row. I have no idea what they mean.
“This is Alpha Sigma Psi house,” Ben says, puffing his chest out with pride.
“Who chose the name?”
“Alpha Sigma has been Alpha Sigma for centuries. It’s tradition.”
“Was your father in this fraternity?”
“Yes.” He looks grave now. “And his father before him, and so on.”
I wonder what it’s like to be that ‘old money.’ All that privilege along with all those responsibilities and expectations.
“Do you like being in Alpha Sigma….” I forget the last part.
He perks up. “Yes. Especially now Priestley’s gone.”
“Priestley Rosenthal?”
Ben bristles. “You know him?”
“No, I just saw a video of him online playing a match.”
“Oh. Well, he graduated last year. He’s doing his grad degree now.”
“Here?”
Ben nods.
“Why isn’t he in your little fraternity anymore?”
“Fraternities are for undergrads. I guess they need to put some kind of age cap on guys living in a house and ‘fraternizing’ with eighteen and nineteen-year olds.”
“That makes sense. But why isn’t he playing tennis this year? I’m grad student age, and I’m on the team.”
“He said he wouldn’t have time for tennis with his internship.”
“Internship?”
“The best student from his course wins a prestigious internship to do alongside their degree.”
“How does he know he’ll win it?”
Ben snorts. “This is Priestley Rosenthal we’re talking about here. He wins everything and he’s always the best.”
“Huh.”
“And the internship is with his dad’s company.”
“Ah!”
Ben laughs, it’s an attractive sound—chiming and melodic.
“It’s a shame, anyway,” I say.
Ben takes a key out of his blazer and lets us into the house. “Why?”
“Because he was a good player. He could have gone pro.”
“Oh.”
“And because Wall Street doesn’t need any more assholes, right?”
He snorts. “How do you know he was an asshole?”
The look on your face when I mentioned him? “You can just tell.”
This house is just as impressive, if not as ostentatious and bright as the sorority house we just came from.
It has that classic, dark academia thing going on, but the chandeliers are less gaudy.
The staircase less sweeping. The floors mostly wood rather than plush carpet.
Is that so the beer and pledge vomit is easier to clean up?
“Come on through,” Ben says. He looks much more at home here than anywhere I’ve seen him before. Except maybe the tennis court when he really gets into his swing.
“How about you?” I ask his back as he leads me out into a large kitchen with an island counter.
“Are you going pro next year?”
“No, I’m starting a business.”
“Oh? With your father?”
His back straightens and he turns to face me with a defiant look in his eyes. “With Nate, actually.”
I want to ask him if that’s a good idea, but refrain.
“What kind of business?”
“A tennis business. Putting people in touch with coaches, building new courts, finding sponsorships and scholarships for players from low-income families.” His face is flushed, but I don’t think it’s from embarrassment this time. “You know, things like that.”
“Maybe you could even start an academy?”
His eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s the plan, I mean … we’d like to. One day.”
“Sounds good.”
I take a stool at the counter and study an apple in the fruit bowl, holding it up to ask if I can take it. He nods.
“Where are you going to start?” I ask before taking a bite. Yum, not bad.
“Well, we have everything set up for the online database, that’s relatively easy, but for the courts and everything, we’re still scoping out space.
” He leans against the counter now, his trousers tightening around his thighs.
I force myself to look at his face, which isn’t hard.
He has a nice face. That chubby ‘babyface’ thing I saw when I first looked at him was a misinterpretation.
With that shaggy brown hair and big, sparkly brown eyes, he could pass for a very young Alain Delon—one of Mama’s favorite actors.
She loved those old black and white French films.
“We can get volunteers easily from the team.”
“What for?”
“To give free lessons to kids.”
Something flutters in my chest and I’m half ready to offer to help.
But that voice that’s always telling me I’m not here to make friends, that everyone is competition, reminds me that it’s stupid to volunteer your time to teach kids anything when you could be practicing, making your own game better.
You can give back once you’ve taken care of yourself.
“That’s a good idea,” I say instead.
Ben lights up. “Well….” He plays with his keys on the counter, getting shy on me again.
I give him a nudge. “I’m guessing you’ll have to wait until after graduation to get everything off the ground properly?”
“Yeah. Though Nate and I both major in business, so we can use what we’re doing towards credit for our final major project.”
I’m suddenly intimidated. Ben is in his final year of Princeton, already setting up a business, and multitasking. He probably has a car and everything. And a trust fund.
I only realize I’m staring at him when I see that he’s staring at me, too.
He snaps out of it first. “I’ll order you an Uber, shouldn’t take too long to get here,” Ben says, running one hand through his hair. Did I make him nervous? “They tend to linger around campus on weekends.”