**Standard disclaimer applies. This is based on actual events, although names, places, and descriptions have changed to protect the identities of the living. Don't read if you shouldn't because you're under 18 or live in a backwards area. I appreciate any and all feedback, so please email me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Enjoy the story!
They say that pride comes before the fall. What they don't say, what the proverbial they so conveniently leave out, is how hard that fall actually is. And it's only when you've hit rock bottom that you take a look around, and realize that it's your fault you're sitting there in the first place.
I woke up that Monday morning still feeling sick to my stomach over my confrontation with Amanda, but holding down any excess bile with my sheer resolve, and by telling myself that I was justified in being as angry with her as I was with the Brit.
I walked through the motions of going to class that morning, and sat through a marketing lecture that couldn't have been timelier.
"Companies use the Rule of Ladder to leverage their position in the marketplace. In the sixties, a company looked at their place on the ladder, and saw that they were trailing a competitor in market share. Their advertising agency pitched a tagline that embraced their position, and turned it around as a promise to the consumer. `We're number two, so we try harder...' any ideas what company?"
I knew what the company was, but I wasn't in the mood to raise my hand and answer. Instead, Amy Klineman, a member of my term project group, raised her hand and said the answer. Amy Klineman always knew the answer.
"Avis?" she answered as if she wasn't sure, which made her being right yet again all the more annoying.
"Exactly. Avis, behind Hertz in revenue and market share, closed the gap by embracing their place on the ladder and using it as a way to advertise their number one attribute to consumers: customer service. We have to try harder because we are the little guy. We'll treat you right because we are the little guy. We aren't the number one, and we'll try harder than the number one to win you over. Trust us... we aren't winning, and therefore we have more to prove."
I thought about what my professor was saying as I packed my things and left class. Maybe that's why Mike was resonating so well with me the last couple of weeks. Maybe seeing him try, make the effort, was making me feel like I could depend on him more. Even though not much had changed in the outlook of our relationship, there was something about him working towards wanting to be with me that warmed me up inside.
The same couldn't be said for the man who was number one in my life. If Pete had made even half the effort that Mike was making, I might have waited for him. But there he was, giving me the same run around he'd given me when we first met. Mixed signals, jealousy, and unrequited feelings... I couldn't deal with that.
Mike may have started in second, but from where I stood, he was getting ready to pass Hertz once and for all.
"Will I see you this weekend?" I asked Mike when I called him right after class. I was walking to my table in the Commons to set up shop until dinner. I had too much work to get done to risk being distracted back at the frat house.
"I'm not sure, babe," he said nonchalantly. He sounded like he was running, but he wasn't short of breath, which sort of annoyed me. "Bryant is sick of covering for me during night watch, so if I do come out, I'd have to be back at a reasonable hour."
"We can arrange that," I promised. "We have a huge mixer on Saturday, and I want you there."
Margaritaville was our answer to Tropical and Shipwrecked. It was our big signature party every year that drew everyone from campus. Even if the mixer portion was with Chi-O, the party itself would be a huge shitshow, and I knew that Mike would have an amazing time.
I also knew that there would be no way of keeping certain people out. I wanted Mike there because I knew that Pete and Amanda would most likely stop by. It wasn't the kind of rager you didn't show up to, and for that reason, I wanted to protect myself with reinforcements.
"Then I'll be there," he said. "As long as you promise not to try and coerce me to stay the night with your fine ass."
I couldn't help but laugh. The way he said it was comical, and the way he could see right through my intentions was even funnier.
It was interesting to me, as I walked to the Commons, how at ease Mike made me feel. I wasn't sure when it had started or how long it would last, but something about talking to him, even as he cut his jokes and made flippant asides, made me forget the turmoil I was going through on campus.
And then it happened. I hadn't been inside the Commons studying for more than an hour when I felt a paper slap onto my table. I looked up.
"The War of Independence, asshole?" Amanda said, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes glaring straight into me. It took me a minute to orient myself to what she was talking about. It was only the second week that someone else had distributed the paper for me, and I hadn't even noticed that it was out yet.
"Oh, The Founder is out. Can I keep this copy?" I asked with enough cheek to build a dam.
"How subtle of you," Amanda scolded, standing before me in the most aggressive stance I could imagine. Her arms were crossed, and her hip was popped at just the right, threatening, angle.
"Subtlety? What fun is that?"I quipped.
I had worked on the article the Friday before Mike came to spend the weekend, and freshly fueled by my anger towards Pete and betrayed by my friend Amanda, who had taken Pete's side, I declared a War of Feelings, between your heart and your head, when you know you need to leave someone behind, when you know that someone is toxic for you, and what that entails.
And then there was a not so veiled section about the casualties of war along the way. Our friends who are forced to choose sides, and those friends who you assume will rally behind you, and what to do when they don't.
Amanda sat down across from me and violently tapped her finger on the table.
"I am not a Benedict Arnold," she glared through squinted eyes and gritted teeth.
"Oh really? You had your chance to have my back, Amanda, and you chose, instead, not to have my back. What exactly would that make you?"
"I've held this in because I've been trying to protect you while you act like a jackass-"
"-Spare me," I interrupted.
"-He doesn't want you," Amanda stung without hesitation. The words hit my face like a cup of ice cold water. He doesn't want you. "Pete doesn't want you the way that you want him. If he wanted you, he'd have you."
I looked at her as if she'd just slapped me across the cheek. I digested what she said as my eyes narrowed. She might have been right; maybe he didn't want me. Maybe he would never want me, I thought. And that would be okay. But the way that he was acting, the way that he had acted... that wasn't the way of someone who didn't want someone else.
"When did he tell you that?" I replied, my voice low and chilly. I could feel the trill in my voice travel through my clenched teeth and up to my temple. I'm glad I didn't have an aneurism, or it might have burst right then and there.
I leaned forward, with my forearm on the table, and slowly rubbed my thumb and middle finger together, never once breaking Amanda's stare.
"When did he say that to you, Amanda? Was it when he told you about the kiss?" I asked, my voice razor sharp, low but effective. "And, I'm curious, Amanda. What else did he say? Did he also tell you that he pushed me away when I kissed him? That it was the worst moment of his life? That he was repulsed and told me never to touch him again?"
"Come on, Corbin."
"I really want to know what it is that he told you."
"Of course he didn't say any of that," Amanda replied.
"I know that he doesn't want me. I get that, and I completely and finally understand it. After I kissed him, that was made perfectly clear. But if he's going to sit there and get jealous every time I so much as look at another guy... if he's going to... he can't have it both ways. He can't not want me, and then not want me for anyone else. You say I've got to let it go, fine. But he's got to let me go; I'm done sitting around and waiting for him to make decisions on his sexuality for the sake of me. I'm not his back burner bro, especially when Mike is available now, and ready now, and wants me now."
I stood up and grabbed for my book and my backpack.
"You tell your little friend that I couldn't care any less whether he wants me or not. But who I fuck in order to get over him is none of his business; you want me to write that down, or will you remember?" I asked condescendingly as I stuffed my backpack with my things. "I'm done, Amanda. I am so done with him. Tell him that."
I flung my chair under the table and marched out of the Commons. I didn't even bother to look back as I walked straight to the frat house. Amanda and Pete could fucking have each other, for all I cared. How could she sit there and tell me that he didn't want me when every single one of his emotions pointed to the opposite? I may have bluffed how ready I was to move on, but hearing that, hearing Amanda rip off the band-aid and say what I'd known in my head, if not in my heart, from the moment I met Pete and failed, I was ready to not take any more of his shit.
I physically shook my head before walking into the house, just in case anyone was hanging around the Great Hall. I had been too vulnerable in that house the last couple of weeks, and I didn't want anyone to see me sweating. I marched upstairs to my room, and closed the door until our chapter meeting after dinner.
I was quiet during the meeting that night. I didn't mouth off to either Dom or Hutch as they walked us through the logistics of the last month of informal rush. I didn't roll my eyes or make any snarky comments as we sorted our rush list between locks, solids, and guys on the fringe. Of the six locks that were read off, the only ones I knew were Brandon, David, and Lee. I was still skeptical about Lee being one, but I kept my mouth shut.
After they were done presenting, I gave my social report.
"This weekend is all hands on deck," I began. I coughed to clear my throat as I phoned in the rest of the report. "When you aren't in class on Friday, I need you here at the house. There will be a lot to do in terms of decorating, opening coconuts, moving DJ Swayze's equipment in. Everything. My plan is to have everything set up on Friday before people start getting drunk."
I made a point to scan the seniors during that last portion, as they were notorious for flaking when it came to mixer prep.
"Why are we setting up on Friday if the mixer isn't until Saturday night?" Tanner asked.
"Great question, Tanner," I responded, trying to curb the sarcasm out of my voice. "We have a lawn party on Saturday that starts at noon, and then at six, we're inviting the rush list over with some choice girls for a frozen drink's pregame."
"Don't we usually have margaritas and daiquiris at the actual mixer?" Jackson asked.
"Jack, last time we tried to man blenders during the mixer, Bill and I ended up making thirty batches by ourselves while the rest of you fuckers shot tequila in the library," I explained. "Bill is graduated, and so this year, we're just having a tequila bar. Blended drinks are for the pre-party."
It was an executive decision that I could tell wasn't met with much fanfare. Margaritas at Margaritaville were a big part of the pomp and circumstance of the mixer, but it wasn't worth the stress and drama, and therefore I 86'd them.
"If we aren't having Margaritas and Daquiris at the mixer, why are we opening coconuts?" Jackson pressed.
"Another amazing question," I said, this time my sarcasm dripping right through. "To simplify things, I've decided to make a rum jungle punch. We'll fill the coconuts with that."
More chatter as I sat back and let them bitch to themselves about the changes I'd made. It was simple. Margaritaville had run rampant in the past with no leadership and no clear direction. By ten o'clock when the party opened up to the public, there was always a line to Mexico for frozen drinks and not enough brothers making them, the shot bar was the main draw, and that too had a huge line, and our bartenders were often times drunker than the folks they were serving.
By hosting a special pre-game, we could keep things special without spreading ourselves too thin. We could focus the mixer on the shot bar, and then the tiki bar that usually housed the mixed drinks could be dedicated to a premade punch that people could grab, fill their coconut, and go.
I explained all of this as if I was teaching gravity to six year olds, and even once I was done, I could tell they weren't all on board. I didn't give a shit. I had to do what was easiest for me given the situation.
I lingered in the library after chapter, half expecting one of the seniors to harass me about phoning it in for the Chi-O mixer, but they didn't. In fact, Oliver stopped by where I was sitting and said thanks for the work I had put in.
"I know that my girlfriend and her friends are really excited." I smiled at him.
The rest of the brotherhood cleared the library, leaving my class behind to shoot the shit before we dispersed to study.
"Are you going to have another colossal breakdown this week, Corbin?" Hutch asked. I shot him a look.
"You're funny for such a short man."
"Humor is all I have," he replied.
"No, I'm done having breakdowns. I have a new outlook on life," I replied.
"Which is?" Austin asked.
"Fuck the Brit."
"Ah," Brian chimed in. "Hence your article in the paper this week."
"I'm done fighting with him. I can't win when it comes to that. Either I throw myself at him and make an effort and he rejects me, or I move on with someone else and he gets pissed at me. I don't know what he wants, and therefore I'm done trying to figure it out."
"So are we back to him not being gay?" Hutch asked. "I'm really confused."
"I'm back to not giving a shit. He told Amanda that he wasn't gay, again, and I called bullshit. But honestly, I can't care. Plus things are going well with Mike, so... I don't even need the Brit." I picked at my nails and I tried just as hard to convince my brothers as I was to convince myself.
"If we convince the Brit to love you, will you dump Mike?" Roberto asked, getting up off his seat and plopping down on the armrest next to me. He still smelled like the pool, and I could tell that he'd swam for his workout that day.
"If the Brit were convincible, trust me, I would have convinced him already. Besides, Mike is different. He's not all bad anymore," I defended.
"You mean he hasn't hit on one of your friends at a party in... how long?"
I rolled my eyes at them. Mike had been a nightmare in the past, and bringing him around had been a double-edged sword. But even when he did flirt with my girlfriends, he always came home with me, and that's what I counted as the important part.
"I'm telling you, since we had our little thing on the porch a couple weeks ago, he's been totally into me."
"Yeah, I can hear him being totally into you through my wall," Hutch, stood, stretched, and started walking towards the door. "Look, I don't care who you pork, just make sure it isn't a freshman. And make sure you get some before this weekend so that we can all be graced with fun, happy, witty Corbin, and not horny, dramatic, bitchy Corbin."
"You're so cute when you make demands of me," I joked, knowing how much he hated being called cute.
The rest of the week was as busy as I anticipated it would be, and then some. I didn't have a moment's rest on Wednesday between registering our party, getting all of the paper work signed, going to class, and assigning people mixer projects.
When it came to Margaritaville, it was important for me to stay organized. It was our largest event in terms of scope, and for it to go off without a hitch, I had to make sure I was in charge and everyone helping was on my page.
In all of the chaos, after getting off the phone with the Kroger manager about when our coconuts would be ready to pick up, I called Mike for a breather.
"You sound stressed," he said, hearing the agitation in my voice.
"I'm kind of stressed," I replied. "This party this weekend is going to be huge, and I need it to go well. The rush committee is on my ass because it's the last event of informal rush. I have to prove to the officers that I'm not dropping the ball just because it's with Chi-O..."
"And you hate Chi-O," Mike interrupted, showing once again that he paid attention.
"And I hate Chi-O," I continued. "It's just a lot. Plus, I have all this shit for school that I have to get done. I feel like a pledge again."
"Maybe I should come down there and feed you a protein shake," Mike said. "You know, for energy."
"Oh, for energy," I cheeked. "You sicko."
"What? It's proven that male semen is a ripe source of natural electrolytes," he said, making absolutely no scientific sense whatsoever. I raised an eyebrow.
"Then maybe you should try drinking some."
"Let's not go that far."
"Uh huh, exactly," I replied, smiling beside myself. Even in the stress that was that week, Mike found a way to cheer me up. "You're still coming this weekend, right? I don't know if I can deal with this party without you."
"I'll be there babe," he said, his voice softening, as if he didn't want anyone hearing him call me babe. Who did his friends think he was talking to on the other end of the line? "Just don't forget I'm on Cinderella time."
"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "Bippity, boppity, boo."
As I hung up with Mike, I heard the beginnings of a party getting started down the hall. As much as I could have used a drink to relax my nerves, I did the responsible thing, stayed in my room, and studied.
Friday rolled around after an equally busy Thursday, and by the time I got out of my last class at two, I was ready for a long nap. Unfortunately for me, there was still work to be done.
I called Dom and confirmed that the seniors were picking up all of the booze for the mixer. He told me they were going later that night, and he was locking the hard liquor in his closet for safekeeping. I thought of a million closet jokes for the Russian whose ex-girlfriend Kristy had told me a substantial amount about the things he asked her to do when he got drunk.
After that, I rode with Roberto and Austin to Kroger to pick up two hundred coconuts, drink mixers, and extra cups. Once we dropped those off at the house, I left instructions with the guys on poking holes in the top of the coconut to drain the juice, and then tapping around the coconut until it cracked to create two equal, cup sized halves. I left Roberto in charge of a sort of assembly line, while Austin manned the storage of the coconuts in an ice and lemon bath.
Once the coconut factory had their marching orders, I went upstairs to get Newby and his team started on decorations. I explained how I wanted the upstairs to look, with the grass we'd used last year around the floorboards of the Great Hall, streamers hung from the ceiling, the Tiki bar set up to the side, and all of the furniture moved into the game room.
We had two kiddie pools set up for beer, all they needed was to be filled with ice the next morning, and a couple of coolers that looked like treasure chests for jello shots that the girls were bringing over.
"I trust you can handle this," I said to Newby.
"Consider it handled," he replied as I went upstairs to borrow Hutch's car so that I could drive to the police station and get noise permits for the lawn party and the mixer.
"Hey, I need your keys," I said to Hutch. He was in his room reading, and he'd already told me that he had to finish a paper by five, and then he'd be downstairs to help set up.
"How's everything going?"
"Great. Every station is manned. The seniors will be over with Swayze after they smoke him out to unload his truck. I've ordered the sandwiches from Walmart, they just need to be picked up tomorrow with the rest of the food. Coconuts are being smashed as we speak. I really just need to get these permits and everything else is being handled."
"Sounds like you've got your head in the game," Hutch replied.
"I always have my head in the game."
"My keys are right over there," he pointed to his dresser. I crossed his room to grab them. "I'll be done here in a couple minutes. Where do you want me?"
"I love Newby, but when you're done, will you go downstairs and help them with decorations. I'm assuming all of the invitations went out on Wednesday."
"Sure thing."
I left Hutch to finish his schoolwork, ran down to his Xterra, and drove into historic Clifton Hill to the police station.
There was a long line at the service counter as every house was planning their big budget dump on a party that weekend. Margaritaville normally stood on its own weekend, but this year moving it meant there'd be competition. Still, Late Night would be attended by everyone who was anyone, and I wasn't worried.
An hour and several signatures later, I pulled back into the house, and entered through the back landing.
The Great Hall already looked a world different than it had when I'd left. The couches and end tables were stored away, and they'd begun to move the stages up to one end for the DJ booth. I saw one of Newby's pledge brothers taping grass to the baseboards while Lee and another freshman hung Bud Light string lights from the ceiling.
"That's interesting," I said about the lights. Newby looked up. I had never seen them before, but didn't want to ask where they'd come from in front of freshmen because I was pretty sure that I knew the answer.
"Aren't they neat? When this place gets dark, I think they'll look real cool," Newby answered. I noticed Lee look back at me and smile. It was then that I noticed a whole box of Budweiser paraphernalia in a large box next to Lee.
In the box were Bud Light triangular streamers that I'm sure were going up. There were table clothes, Bud Light Lime Koozies, and even a banner with the company's logo.
"Where's Hutch?" I asked as I processed what was in the box. In that moment, something inside of me snapped.
"He came down for a minute and then went back up to his room, I think."
I didn't respond, but instead walked straight into Dom's bedroom, dropped off the noise permits, and then bolted to Hutch's room on the third floor. I barged right in without so much as knocking.
"What's going on downstairs?"
"What do you mean? The place is looking great."
"It looks wonderful," I replied, opening my eyes wide, stepping in and closing the door. "Especially with all of the new decorations we somehow commandeered."
"You can't seriously be mad about that," Hutch said to me, turning in his swivel chair and peeling his reading glasses off. "They were a gift."
"They are a bribe," I countered.
"I thought you were fine with that kid," Hutch said. I was, I thought. Or at least I thought I had been. But seeing how he was playing our house, how he was resorting to Plan B after Plan Fuck a Brother hadn't worked out, sent me right back to where I had been when I first found out I had been played.
"Don't you see what he's doing? He's indebting us to him."
"You really need to get your paranoia checked."
"Do I? What happens when we try to ball him, huh? Do we have to pay his dad back for all of these generous donations that we're accepting?"
"Why would we try to ball him?"
"Let's not forget that he tried to screw his way into this house first, before the payola started rolling in."
"And let's not forget that you, a junior, let him screw you. This house didn't fuck up when you got down on your knees in front of a freshman, Corbin, you fucked up. Lee is a good kid who wants in this house any way he can, and instead of fighting that, you should be embracing it. We need guys like him. We need guys that can pay dues, and who care about the welfare of this fraternity. Fuck, he's not even a pledge yet, and he's down there decorating for a mixer that he's not even throwing. I'm with you on a lot of things, but you don't have a leg to stand on to ball him."
"And yet, if I want to ball him, I will," I replied, raising my voice to match Hutch's. "My leg to stand on is the fact that I'm a brother, and he isn't, and if I so much as don't like the color of his shirt, I have every right to drop a ball on his name. That kid humiliated me, Chad, and I let it go for you and for rush. He screwed me over, and I let it go because you asked me to. And when that didn't work, when fucking me to get a bid backfired on his bony ass, he decided to play you too. Don't you see that you're getting played here?"
My face was red and it was hot, and I knew that I had very little ground in my pledge brother's eyes. To him, having Lee reach out to his dad for resources was a show of willingness to help. I saw it as straight up coercion by someone whose first plan failed, and by someone who was buying himself an insurance policy in case he still had an enemy in me.
"Corbin, you listen to me, and then get the fuck out of my room. Lee is being rushed. Whatever fucked up gay ass feelings you have towards him, you can put aside until after rush and he's an official pledge. Until then, you do things my way, and you sit down and shut up about it. No one questions you on your social shit, Corbin, and I've kept you out of a lot of hot water with that. Do not screw anything up with Lee or I will personally kill you myself. Do you understand me?"
Chad's voice was low and threatening. He'd never pulled that kind of tone with me in as long as I could remember, and for that reason I knew he meant business. I could have laid into him again, but I knew that the only reason I was in there fussing at him was because I still didn't like Lee. I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, and evidently, that was a personal problem that I would have to work through myself.
I looked at Hutch, and yielded.
"Fine," I said, calmly. "You're right. I'll let it go. You do what you need to do."
My voice was low and convincing, and I watched as Hutch took a deep breath.
"Just let the record show that I warned you against that kid, and when he does something to screw the entire house like he did me, I don't want to say I told you so."
"He'd need a pretty big dick to screw the house like he screwed you, wouldn't he?" Hutch tried to joke. I cut my eyes at him, and then walked out of his room.
I took a deep breath and exhaled the hot air that had built up inside of me. Physically cooling myself down in front of Hutch had pushed the steam that had risen when I saw those decorations down into my chest, and I had to let it out.
But it wasn't gone for long.
I walked downstairs, passed where the guys were now stringing triangular Bud Light flag streamers caddy corner across the lights. I took a second to soak it in, shook my head, and walked silently down the stairs to the basement.
The TV room was empty, as everyone was manned where I'd put them to set up. The seniors hadn't gotten here with DJ Swayze yet, and so I still had a little bit of time to myself. I sprawled out on the main couch in the room and crossed my legs over the length of the sofa.
I sat down on the couch, pulled my phone out, and sent out the following text message.
To Lee: Working hard? Or Hard Lee Working?
I waited a minute for his reply. As I sat there, I wondered if I would have done what I was about to do had I not been stressed out in every facet of my life. Would I have felt this way towards Lee and his decorations if it weren't for my fight with Pete and Amanda, never ending schoolwork, pressure from the seniors, and this mixer with Chi-O stressing me to the brim? I might have been annoyed, but I probably wouldn't have snapped like I was about to.
I shook my head, thought for a split second, and then decided that I needed to trust my instincts on Lee. It was time to do what needed to get done.
To Corbin: Why don't you feel and find out.
Hook. Line. Sinker, I thought. The trap was set, and it couldn't have been easier.
To Lee: Cum downstairs.
I put my phone away and waited. I didn't have to sit there for more than thirty seconds before he came into the TV room with a grin on his face and his fingers an inch from his belt buckle.
One look at my face, however, staring him down as he closed the door, was enough to wipe the shit grin off his lips.
"Hey," he said softly, inching towards me. I made no movement to get up from the couch, or move my legs in order to make any room for him. I kept my hands where they'd been since I put my phone away, crossed behind my head in a gentle but threatening pose.
"I thought this was a social call," Lee said as he took another step towards me. I ran my eyes down the length of his body with more attitude than even I knew I could muster.
I chuckled one of those chuckles that sends a wave of fear through someone, especially when they have no clue what you find amusing.
"Lee, I just wanted to congratulate you," I said, my grin plastered on my face, but my eyes anything but amused.
"On what?" he asked slowly. I watched his Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed.
"On how you've managed to fuck your way in to this house," I said bluntly, not mincing a single syllable. He swallowed again, and it was then and only then that I pulled my feet off the couch, sat up, erased the smile on my face, and betrayed just how angry this whole situation made me.
"I don't follow," he replied, his voice low and slow. He hadn't moved, as if he was afraid that I would pounce and tackle him if he did. He must have felt like I was a lion or some other predatory creature, and he'd stumbled through my domain.
"You couldn't literally fuck your way into my house, and so now you're paper fucking your way into my house," I said, my voice barely above a conversational tone. Lee's expression slowly melted, and he grinned at me as if I'd read right through him. He wasn't afraid of me. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to transition from running downstairs to get his cock sucked to being a manipulative little bitch, and the proof was in his smug little smile.
Why couldn't Hutch and the officers see this sneaky side of him? Why was I being painted as the paranoid crazy when Lee really was a devious bastard? Why was I the only one who saw this kid for who he was?
"Are you talking about the decorations that my dad donated?"
"I'm talking about how you are trying to manipulate your way into this house because you know that I still don't trust you," I challenged, standing straight up and point a finger into his chest. I drilled into him, not once taking my eyes off of his.
"Really? Well, Brother Crowley, maybe when I become a pledge, you can beat some trust into me," his voice was low and seductive. I didn't take my eyes off of him, and without seeing his hands move, felt something grab my crotch in the exact spot that my jeans met the bottom of my balls.
I slowly took his hand off my crotch and returned it to his side, not once taking my eyes off his. I narrowed my eyes.
"If you become a pledge," I threatened. Lee replied with a silent smile. I continued. "If you become a pledge, it will be over my dead body."
"Really? Because Hutch and Dom and Oli and Newby and pretty much everyone that matters has told me I'm a lock."
The fact that he knew the term lock made me think he was telling the truth... or at least stretching it.
"I'm who matters!" I said, my voice booming in the hollow room. I could feel my chest fill with air as I got ready to rip into Lee, and wipe the smirk off his face. My anger had reached a fever pitch, growing from abject distrust to pure resentment, simply by how far this kid was willing to challenge me.
"You think the vote of confidence from any of those guys carries any weight?" I said slowly, dragging my words for every possible effect. "I am who you need to impress. I am who you need to go through. I am the one that signs your bid."
I took a shallow breath, not wanting to rush myself. I felt my body temperature rise, and so I physically took in air to try and cool it down.
"Those guys think that you give them the other freshmen on a platter, but I know better. Everyone thinks you're this helpful, jovial kid who just wants in so badly, he'd go as far as asking daddy to help him, but I know better. I can see right through you, kid, and my vote is the only vote that matters in the end. So when I say that you'll get a bid over my dead body, that's exactly what I mean."
"It takes two to ball," Lee said, not showing any signs of intimidation. I winced at him, not wanting to show my anger rise. I didn't want him to see me lose it, and so I made the effort to appear calm even though with every passing word he spoke, I was boiling inside.
"If you think I can't find another brother to ball you, you've mistaken me," I replied. I wasn't even sure how he knew the rules of Bid Ball so clearly, but I had an idea that one of the guys rushing him had told him, playing a portion of my hand before I had the chance, and lighting yet another fire in my chest.
"Really?" Lee asked defiantly. "You'll find another brother who hates me as much as you do? Who? I've been out with everyone in your class, the sophomore class, and the seniors. They all love me, and they would all think you're absolutely ludicrous if you don't want me in. You have no reason to ball me other than the fact that we screwed, and for whatever reason, you don't like me. Try selling that to the guys upstairs."
I ran my tongue over my teeth. I didn't know what was irritating me more, the fact that he was right, or the fact that he was underestimating me. I took another shallow breath, only this time I didn't say anything. I watched Lee as he waited for me to speak. After a few seconds, the silence became too uncomfortable for him, and he did exactly what I wanted him to do. He failed our fight by speaking first.
"You have nothing over me anymore, Corbin. My girlfriend knows about us, and she doesn't care. The guys who are going to be in my pledge class know about us, and they don't care. Fuck, the guys in the house know, and nobody cares. You can't out me. You're out of options."
"The fact that you think that I'm out of options is comical," I said, leaning back an inch, and crossing my hands over my chest. I thought quickly, and without hesitation, I played my next card.
"That box that all of those decorations came in, it's upstairs, right? And it probably has a return address label on it?"
I could see the wheels spinning in Lee's head. I pressed on slowly. I could tell that he was trying to stay a step ahead of me, and yet I knew he had no clue where I was going.
"And if I searched that address online, I'm sure I could find some telephone number attached to that address. Maybe to your Dad's office or something."
I narrowed my eyes. It was time for the kill. Lee would rue the day that he challenged me, and I was about to make sure of it.
"I'm sure I could make a quick phone call to his secretary, asking for a Mr. Dornan, on behalf of his son, my newest pledge. Think she would connect me, no?"
I could tell that he was connecting my dots. I didn't take my eyes off of him for a second, but the room was so still and quiet when I wasn't talking that I could literally hear him swallow the saliva that was in his mouth.
"And so maybe I'll call him, since I'm out of options, and tell him how I made his son my cock sucking little bitch. And maybe I'll call him, since I'm so out of options, and tell him how excited I am that his son, who likes to spend his free time on his knees, will be living right down the hall next year, for me to use at my leisure. And maybe I'll tell him, since I have absolutely no options left, what an incredible fuck you were... since I have no more options."
I felt bad for the first time in talking to Lee, as I looked in his eyes and saw that he was about to cry. I forced myself not to feel guilty. He was the one who had challenged me, gone against me when he had the chance to pull back and move on. I'd warned him. And this was what he got for not listening to my warning.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered. I was sure that had he spoken out, his voice might have betrayed him.
"Lee, all I want is for you to go upstairs and finish setting up for the party. And then tomorrow, I want you to come over and enjoy the mixer, you've earned it. And in the next month, when my brothers sit you down and make you all sorts of promises about all sorts of bids, I want you to kindly tell them that you're keeping your options open. Tell them that you don't want to suicide rush into one place. Tell them that you're still trying to find the perfect fit. And then, if you get a bid to Chi Beta, I want you to tear it, and pledge a different house. Finally, next semester, when you're settled in to your new house, I want you to call me and thank me for releasing you from us while you still had the chance to land somewhere else."
I shrugged, as if what I was asking was so simple. I knew that I was acting out of sheer spite. I knew that my anger towards my situation with Pete was trickling into my anger at Lee. I knew that I was being unreasonable. But I was on the warpath, and Lee was a definite casualty.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked softly after he'd had a second to process what I was asking of him. I took a deep breath, sighed, and sat back on the couch, my back straight, and my eyes pierced firmly into his.
"I told you that I'm not the kind of person you want to make an enemy out of. You didn't listen. This is what happens when you don't listen."
What I didn't tell Lee, and what I only realized years later, was that I felt threatened by him. If this kid had that much gall as a freshman, imagine what he could accomplish when he was a junior like myself? He was manipulative, and conniving, and extremely good at it. And in those moments, I felt that if I didn't squash him, if I didn't exert my influence over him, he might have grown up to be worse than me. And that scared me.
And while I did the things I did for the house, I couldn't trust that Lee would use his level of influence over people for the same good cause. And for that, he had to go. And so I did precisely what needed to done.
Going out that night was sort of a warm-up for the next day, and because I planned on drinking for over twelve hours on Saturday, I decided to play it cool on Friday night and take it relatively easy.
The next morning, fresh off of the gin bucket at the KA party dump in the country, I woke up, immediately chugged a Gatorade and two Advil, and put all of the plans I'd made for Margaritaville into motion. Luckily for me, everyone who I'd put in charge of something was being cooperative, so I didn't have to bust any skulls.
At around noon, a few of the Chi-O's that we partied with regularly started showing up at our front lawn. Austin and Roberto's friends Sam and Chelsea, as well as Catherine, Brian's girlfriend, and some of the girls that the seniors hung out with all came, dressed in skirts or shorts and bikini tops. It wasn't the most seasonal outfit, and even though it was a cool lower 70's outside, the sun was out, and there was no excuse not to dress like a slut.
I'd picked up sandwiches and wings from Walmart with Hutch earlier that morning while the seniors helped DJ Swayze set up a pair of speakers outside. I had Dom and Austin in charge of setting up the beers in kiddie pools, and the sophomores put together a slip and slide that I wasn't sure would get used or not.
At about one, people had loosened up, volleyball had started on the lawn, and everything I'd planned was being set into motion.
Once my fraternal obligations were complete, and I was ready to let the party unfold at its own pace, I called Mike and told him to come over.
"I was shooting for around four or five," he replied after I asked what his plan was. "Is that too late?"
"No, not at all," I said breezily, trying not to sound disappointed that he couldn't be there right then and there. "I just wish you could come now, is all."
"Well, hold your horses for a couple hours, and then I'll come over... I'll come all over."
"You're a sicko," I chastised, smiling all the while. I hadn't thought about Mike cumming over any part of me that entire day, but once the thought was in my head, there was nothing I could do to push it out.
That was the case, until the other showed up.
At about two in the afternoon, just as I was taking my shoes off and running down the hill to join my class in a game of volleyball against the seniors and some girls, I heard the familiar lilt of an English accent circle around the side of the building.
I slowed my pace down as I got to the bottom of the hill, turned, and saw Pete and Amanda strolling onto my lawn with the rest of the girls that lived at their house. They were all led by Adam and Jackson, and they looked as if they couldn't have done any wrong.
"Corb," I heard from the other side of the volleyball net. I didn't turn, but simply mumbled a `huh' as I watched them all walk straight to the cooler, and pull out Bud Light Limes.
They resembled a group of the cool kids in high school, or the Plastics from Mean Girls. They moved in slow motion, and all I could do was stand there and watch them. A month ago, I might have run up the hill and joined them, but at that time, in that circumstance, that wasn't an option.
And then it hit me. Not an idea, or genuine thought. No, a ball hit me in the back of the head.
"Ow!" I turned to see Roberto laughing and the volleyball he'd chucked at me rolling back towards him.
"Come on, man," he said, his accent thick with anticipation. I didn't realize why he was so eager to start playing until I saw Allison Glass, who was a junior Chi-O, and some of her teammates on the other side of the net.
"I thought we were playing the seniors," I said, taking my place in the front middle. I was our designated setter any time we played a somewhat organized game. Roberto lined up to my left, with Austin opposite him in the back row so that I always had one of them to set to on the left. Ben, one of my pledge brothers who only made social appearances when absolutely necessary, but was fairly athletic and more than competent, lined up to my right. Brian and Hutch made up our defensive core in the back row, with the understanding that we would all do whatever it took to keep Hutch from having to touch the ball.
"We were, until these pretty ladies showed up," Ben said. I knew Allison and Meghan very well, and recognized some of the other girls from the volleyball team.
I looked up at the top of the hill before first serve, and caught one last glimpse of Pete having the time of his life at my house's party.
And so I decided to do the only thing you can when you're in a feud with someone that's having fun. I had even more fun.
As we played, I called plays loudly, cheered on my team, and any time something funny happened, I exaggerated just how amazing it was. I set us to a victory in the first game, barely pulling out the win by two points exactly.
In the second game, the varsity led team of girls demolished us.
"You've got to tighten up the block," I said to Roberto and Ben, who were responsible for blocking against their tallest hitter, Rachel. "She's crushing you two on that side."
"You watch the middle," Roberto said. "That way I can cheat right without worrying about them scoring on you.
With that game plan in mind, we confidently took to the court for a third tie-breaking game. The sophomores had called next on the volleyball court, and were gathered around to see who was going to take the deciding set, and with them, came the girls of Pi Phi that had crashed our party. It was like a little cheering squad had formed around the outskirts of the field, with everyone sitting just where the hill began, pants rolled up, beers in hand.
And amongst them was the one guy I didn't want to talk to, let alone play ball in front of. Instead of moping, getting nervous, or drawing myself in, I decided to embrace that he was there, and channel that energy.
"Let's go, bitches," I said, grabbing the volleyball, and tossing it to Austin for the first serve. As he geared up, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it overhand right to Pete's feet. I gave him a look, a glare, and then turned to get ready for the play.
The momentum the girls had from the set before carried them to a 10-4 advantage in the third. I didn't feel so bad getting scored on in the front row, simply because they were varsity athletes and whatnot, but with Pete standing there watching and judging, I was determined not to be embarrassed.
And that's when I went up for the block on their middle hitter, pulled my body up as high as it could go, let my hands go over the net, and sent her swing right back to her side of the net.
"Keep it!" I screamed, turning and high fiving the other guys. I could feel all eyes on me, and I couldn't have felt more energized. Everyone in the crowd, minus Pete and Amanda, cheered me on, as I rotated to the back row to serve.
I looked at Pete just a second before my hand made contact with the ball. I squared up, imagined it was his face on the sphere, and slapped it across the net for an ace that the girls weren't prepared for.
"Jesus, Corbin," I heard Ben say in front of me. "Let's get another one just like that, buddy."
I smiled, pulled the ball back into my palm, and sent that ball sailing over.
If I remember anything about that game, it was those two plays. The girls elevated their level of competition after getting scored on twice in a row, and ended up going on a run that was impossible for us to defend. I had a couple of really great setter dumps from the front row, but other than that, we got squashed.
When the game was over, I walked right passed Pete, picked up my shirt, and strutted up the hill without saying a single word to him. It wasn't that the afternoon wasn't fun, it definitely was. I was having a blast playing volleyball in the cool sunny air. I was having fun kicking it with my fraternity brothers and the girls they were so eagerly trying to impress. Being there, being in the center of things, was more than just simply enjoyable. It was a blast.
But once the game died down, and people broke up in to their small groups to chat and hang out and talk, I suddenly felt a pressure that I didn't enjoy feeling. It was almost as if everyone expected me to go and hang out in Pete and Amanda's group. They were my friends, as far as they knew, and so I felt this shadow of insecurity at why it was I wasn't hanging out with them.
And, of course, that insecurity was all in my head. No one, I realized, gave a flying fuck who I was or wasn't talking to. Still, I felt uncomfortable being there, even though it was my house, and so I gathered my things, and proceeded upstairs.
As soon as I hit my bed, I called Mike and told him I couldn't wait for him to come over.
"Well, if you keep calling me, killer, that'll just delay me even more," he responded.
"What if I stay on the phone with you until you're ready to come over? That way, even if it takes longer, it won't necessarily feel like it."
"That's a thought," he replied. "But I have to take these rats through a ten mile jog, so... it'll be hard for me to keep my phone to my ear."
"You need a Bluetooth," I countered, stubbornly, turning onto my stomach. "Just jog fast, okay?"
I surprised myself how dependant I was on Mike being around to make me feel better. I had gone from being low about Lee the day before to being hot about Pete and Amanda being at my house that afternoon, that the only solace I felt could help was the guy that had been there for me through all of my ups and downs.
I took a deep breath, decided I wasn't going to let anyone ruin my day, and picked myself up.
I managed to fake it for the rest of the lawn party, spending most of my time talking to my pledge class and the Chi-O girls they were entertaining. I had a few witty quips, and cracked a few trademark jokes, but I could tell that my energy and heart weren't in it. I figured the guys thought I was phoning it in just because it was Chi-O, but I knew that the ones who knew me best, Roberto and Hutch, could tell that something was bothering me.
Our pregame for the rager was set to start at 7, with the mixer starting at 9, and the party opening up at 10. At around 6, everyone dispersed from the lawn and went their separate ways to get ready. A few of the senior girls followed Dom into his room to pregame extra early. They were seniors... they had nothing else to do.
"When are you heading down to start making daiquiris?" Hutch asked as I followed him upstairs to our rooms. I was sweaty and ready for a shower.
"I don't know," I replied. "After I shower and figure out my grass skirt, I guess."
"You aren't wearing a grass skirt," Roberto said, his energy level low, but his voice as sharp as always.
"I am wearing a grass skirt. A very short grass skirt," I said with a smirk. "And probably no underwear."
"I'll disown you," he replied. "I'll have the house disown you."
We reached my door, and I shot him a look.
"Try it and I'll kill you."
Before hopping in the shower, I checked my phone to see what messages I'd had since my last pep talk to myself.
I had two. One from Mike, and one from He Who Will Not Be Named.
I read Mike's first.
To Corbin: Hey killer. I should be ready to leave here about six. Let me know if its okay to come over.
To Mike: I'm about to hop in the shower. Come over whenever you want.
As I waited for Mike to respond, I opened Pete's message and read it at least three times before my face cooled down.
To Corbin: You can't even say hi to your guests. Some host.
I shook my head, unsure how I was supposed to reply to that. He was taunting me, baiting me, purposely forcing me to be the bitch he knew I could be; would be given the right ammunition.
And as much as I didn't want to fall into a snarky little trap, I couldn't help myself. I couldn't rise above such a bitchy text message. And so I responded with the first thing that came to my mind after reading Pete's message.
To Pete: Silly me, I didn't notice you were here.
I closed my phone and took a deep breath. A second later, I felt a vibration. It was from Mike.
To Corbin: Wait for me. I'll shower with you. :)
I smiled, my mind conflicted. Part of me was still heated at Pete's jab, but part of me was amused by Mike and his flirting.
To Mike: It's a frat house, Mike. We can't shower together.
At that point, I checked my messages and saw Pete's response.
To Corbin: Funny. Who did you think you were staring at all afternoon?
I bit my bottom lip. I hadn't been staring at him, I thought. I'd stolen a look or two, but staring was such a harsh word.
To Pete: I was wondering who the uninvited guests were that kept drinking my beer.
It was the best response I could come up.
From Mike: The showers aren't big enough for two able-bodied guys? Standing back to chest? I refuse to believe that.
I smiled again.
To Mike: Come over and we'll measure them.
Almost immediately, and before Pete said anything on his end, Mike replied.
From Mike: I'm just kidding killer. I'm already showered. You get ready and I'll head over.
To Mike: Give me 20 minutes.
I tossed my phone to the side of my bed, grabbed a towel, and hit the showers. As if he'd been waiting on me with an egg timer in his hand, Mike showed up, knocking at my bedroom door exactly one shot, one shower, and twenty minutes later.
He was dressed in his more casual blues, and the first thought I had as I let him into the room in just my boxer briefs was that we needed to get him out of that uniform as soon as possible.
"Is this what you're wearing to the party?" he asked with a crooked smile.
"Do you think I should?"
"If it were my party, I'd say you're overdressed," he laughed, snapping the waistband of my underwear.
"Mike!" I exclaimed, closing the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, I felt Mike's strong arm, wrapped in the thick warm cloth of his uniform, pull me in and kiss me deeply. This wasn't the same Mike that I'd had to beg to kiss me a couple months ago. It wasn't the same Mike that I had to negotiate with in order to get him to show any kind of emotion. It wasn't the same guy that had used me as a mouthpiece for almost a year. This Mike was different. This Mike was love.
Without communicating my desires at all, I started to undress the top of his uniform. I pulled the jacket off and revealed a clean Hanes t-shirt underneath. A second later, I was yanking the shirt over Mike's shoulders and outstretched arms.
I pushed him towards my bed while ripping the belt off of his pants. I purred into his mouth as I grazed his cock, getting harder under the fabric of his uniform. He thrust ever so slightly into me, pulling my face in with his hand.
As I got ready to dive in for the prize, I decided that Mike's body was too nice not to revel in for just a moment. I let go of his lips and kissed his shoulders, then his chest. I spent a second wrapping my lips around his nipples, then tracing my tongue down the ridge formed by his six perfectly manicured abs. His skin smelled like leather and musk, and it tasted sharp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower. I'd tasted Mike clean, and I'd tasted him with a thin layer of sweat after a workout, and I liked him perfectly both ways.
It was then that the remnants of old Mike came creeping out. As his cock strained to get out of his already unbuttoned pants, I felt Mike push my head down towards his crotch. He wasn't in the mood for my muscle worshipping appetizer, and instead preferred to skip right to the entrée. With just a little pressure on my head and shoulders, I slid down to my knees, and yanked Mike's cock out of his pants.
"Suck my dick," he commanded as if I was one of his rats getting ready for a run. "Suck it deep, babe."
And I did just that.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned as I slid his cock down the length of my tongue. The mushroom head that had been neglected by a human mouth since the last time Mike had been over, pulsed in my mouth and slid effortlessly to the back of my throat.
"Oh god, I've been thinking about this all fucking week."
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make Mike happy. I lived to hear his moans above me, and to feel his body pulse and writhe because of my touch. I used my hands to explore every inch of his bare, tight skin, while my lips and tongue gave his cock the service we both craved. I could feel him edge closer and closer, as his pelvic movements sped up and his cock became impossibly hard in my mouth.
I felt him grab the hair on the back of my head, push me down until my chin hit the hilt of his cock, and the head of his dick pulsed right in my throat. I felt the first wave slam towards the back of my throat. I swallowed as much as I could, but by the time the third stream of cum shot out and hit my tongue, I had to let some dribble out of the side of my mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" he cried as I sucked him in deeply, milking every last drop out of his dick. "Oh babe, that feels fucking amazing."
I smiled at him, as I lifted my head from his crouch. He lay down on my bed with a sigh. I wiped the side of my mouth and stood up to put a shirt on.
"Where are you going?" he panted weakly, turning his head to face me.
"You're done, right?" I asked softly.
"Yeah. It's your turn now."
I turned my entire body to face him, snapping my head in surprise. He'd never said that to me before. He'd never worried about my capacity to finish. I figured that he assumed that I did it on my own time with the memory of his taste on my tongue... which is exactly what I normally did after blowing Mike the Cadet.
"My turn for what?" I asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.
"Just come over here before I change my mind."
I sauntered slowly towards Mike, my cock growing harder as I walked with anticipation. He didn't move from where he lay, his legs dangling over the side of my bed, his hands propping up his head, and his smile drawing me in.
"What exactly have you set your mind to do?" I asked slowly.
"Hop on, baby," he said, patting his torso as if it was the seat of a Triumph Motorcycle. I slowly climbed onto my bed, straddled Mike on either side just above where his pelvis met his abs, and smiled down at him.
"Now what?"
"Now, let's 86 these," he whispered deliberately, pulling at the waistband of my boxer briefs and letting my cock out. It rested at a 45 degree angle, held up by the elastic. I watched every movement of his mouth as he spoke. His tongue was long, and I wondered what it would feel like gliding against my dick. I hopped off the bed again and yanked my underwear off before climbing back on to Mike. This time, I used his broad shoulders for leverage, and got comfortable right on his chest.
"Scoot back a little," he whispered, and any hope I had of Mike blowing me disappeared as I shifted backwards onto his stomach.
"Let's see what we're working with here," he said, not making eye contact with me, but rather staring down my hard dick as it plopped down on his upper abs. He grasped it with a firm grip, and I moaned softly.
"Oh yeah," I let out involuntarily. His hands were strong, almost as strong as my own grip when I jacked off. I ran my right hand behind my neck and arched my back as Mike slowly began to pull back and forth on my dick.
As I got into the hand job, my precum coating both my dick and Mike's abs, I felt his free hand circle my left ass cheek. I let out another moan as I pulled my pelvis completely off of Mike's stomach and arched my back in pleasure. Mike took that very opportunity to slip his middle finger right down the middle of my ass, and as I arched myself back down onto him, I felt a long sliver of skin pierce my hole.
Since I was already relaxed, I wasn't thrown completely off by Mike's entering finger. I slid back a little bit more until his second knuckle grazed the side of my prostate. We both must have felt it because just as I let out a big moan, Mike pulled his finger back and brushed the tip against that magic spot.
"Oh god," I moaned as another string of precum coated Mike's hand. As I concentrated on how great his finger felt inside of me, concentrating every ounce of effort onto the one spot that could make me tingle, Mike let go of my cock, and brought his sticky hand up to my neck.
As he traced the length of my body, I arched my back again, and this time Mike inserted a second finger inside of me. This is the one that stretched me out. It was then that my hole could really feel the invasion of Mike's strong knuckles. And again, Mike went laser focused to my prostate.
I grabbed his hand as it caressed my neck and brought his finger to my lips. I sucked in his longest finger, sticky from my precum. I opened my eyes and looked down at Mike.
"You look amazing," he whispered. I smiled at him. He tickled my prostate again, causing me to lurch and take his finger in my mouth even deeper. I felt him moan under me, causing a rumbling to make its way up my entire spine. It was like the two of us were connected by a closed-circuit that went from the tip of one of Mike's fingers, all the way through me, to the tip of the finger on his other hand.
As the sensation that sucking him and being fingered by him was causing me got too much, I brought my free hand down to my dick to try and finish. I knew that I was close to erupting, and any assistance would have sped up the process.
Sensing that I was ready, Mike shook his head, pulled his hand out of my mouth and grabbed my wrist.
"Let me," he said softly. I smiled at him as he encircled my cock with his right hand, pushed his left two middle fingers deeper into my ass, curving upwards to massage my prostate like a pro. A minute and six pulses of my dick later, I felt the first wave of my first Mike assisted orgasm shoot out from me.
I watched my cum shoot across my bed and land on the adjacent wall behind Mike's head. The second shot hit the mattress just to the left of his face, and the third shot hit him square in the chin. He flinched at first, but after he realized that my jizz wasn't going to kill him, he let the other streams of cum land right on his chest.
I was mesmerized by Mike the Cadet. Not just because he looked so fucking sexy, lying there in all his muscled glory with a thin layer of my cum glistening on his chest and face. I was mesmerized because of how far this guy had come along with me in our journey. This was what a relationship felt like, I thought. Not the bullshit that the Brit was concerned with.
Mike and I got up, toweled off, and took turns in a quick shower after I protested about taking him into the frat restroom with me.
"You know we won't get clean," I told him as I wrapped myself in a towel and crept out into the hall alone.
"Good point." Mike followed behind me, and occupied the second shower in the bathroom.
We got dressed in the outfits that I'd picked out for us: I was in a grass skirt with a pink and green lei and Mike was wearing my floral print bathing suit, that had a four inch inseam, and a Hawaiian shirt.
"How come I have to wear a shirt?" he asked, protesting about the one thing I didn't think he'd have an issue with.
"Because I can't have these floozies downstairs flirting with you," I said with the tone of feigned but accurate jealousy. I knew who Mike would finish the night with, but I wasn't sure I could trust every single person at the party downstairs.
As Mike helped me wrap the grass skirt around my waist and tie it tight, I heard my phone vibrate that I had a new message.
"Will you see who that is?" I asked, assuming it was one of my brothers. Mike turned, and didn't say anything for a second. I turned to look at him. "Who is it?"
The look on his face could have slayed me. It wasn't a look of bitterness or hurt. It was more a look of disappointment.
"It's him," he said softly, tempering his face and returning to a normal gaze. He handed me the phone, and I looked down to see that I had a message from Pete.
"Mike, I'm not even talking to him, I swear."
"I know," he said quickly. "I trust you, Corbin. I really do."
There was a lot being left unsaid, and that wasn't like Mike and me. We hashed things out. We were honest and open, but in that moment, I knew what Mike was thinking without him having to say it.
"Michael Loggerman, I swear to God, I'm not even thinking about him," I said, closing my phone without reading the message. "You beat him. You won. You're first on the ladder."
"Okay, Corbin," he replied. I could feel the relief in his eyes, and I knew that he believed me. "What I'm more concerned with is how you're going to take care of those boners in that grass skirt."
I looked down at my crotch, back up at Mike, and smiled.
"Stop giving me boners, jackass," I joked, leading him out of my bedroom and down into the party. The night raged on exactly how I'd planned. The freshman that were already there, along with the work hard/play hard girls of Chi Omega, were doing shots when Mike and I descended the stairwell down to the main floor.
The blender was mixing up drinks with Dom and couple of his pledge brothers manning the Margaritas, Daquiris, and Pina Coladas. There wasn't a hint of animosity in the air between the Chi-O's and the Chi Beta's, and later that night, when the party opened up and the crowds from around campus filled up our house for Late Night, I cornered Bridgette Waters and thanked her for the mixer.
"Our girls always have so much fun at Margaritaville!" she shouted over the music that was wafting up from the basement. The main floor of our house was packed to the brim, and I could barely hear her.
"We do to! It's the biggest party we throw! I'm glad we were able to figure it out." I smiled at her, and let bygones be bygones.
"Babe, your drink is empty," Mike said to me after I promised Bridgette that we'd make this mixer our top priority on the calendar the following year. "Want me to get you another one?"
"You don't have to," I shouted back. "I can go."
"Let me," he said. "You're hosting this joint. You should stay up here."
I watched as Mike took my coconut up the stairs towards my room to pour us refills of some of tequila and margarita mix we'd stashed when the party converted from mixer to full on rager.
As I watched him walk away, I took a deep breath and scanned the party.
"I never see Corbin Crowley standing alone," I heard from behind me. I turned to see Nick Persons approaching, standing before me in his low hanging jeans, and no shirt.
"Isn't a little cold to be going around shirtless?" I asked with a smile. Seeing his beautiful relaxed face always put a smile on mine.
"Why? Are my nipples hard or something?"
"I just don't want you to catch cold," I answered innocently.
"You're shirtless too," he observed. I looked down and smiled flirtatiously, not able to help myself around someone as beautiful as Nick Persons.
"True, I guess," I replied. "But I have a plan. To avoid catching a cold."
"Let's hear it."
"I'm going to find someone to cuddle with tonight," I explained, telling myself in my head that that person was Mike the Cadet.
"Good idea. Maybe I should find someone to cuddle with too. I have heard that body heat is the best way to keep warm." I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn Nick took a step towards me when he said that. Regardless of his flirtatious intention, I blushed, brushed my hair away from my face and smiled at him.
I put my hand on his shoulder, and as platonically as I could told him that there were plenty of fish in the Late Night sea that he could choose from.
"For warming purposes," I added at the end.
"For warming purposes," Nick smiled.
I watched as he walked back into the crowd, trying not to stare and blatantly regret making out with the wrong brother at last year's musical festival.
And as hot as Nick was, as soon as he was out of sight, he was steadily out of mind as well. I had a guy, and he was upstairs getting me a drink, and since I'd decided to let Pete go once and for all, I had felt like Mike and I were a great match together.
But that didn't keep me from doubting. Mike had said it once, and it had stayed planted in the back of my head. There would come a time when I would want more from him, and he wouldn't be able to deliver. What would I do then? I shook my head. Mike had risen to every occasion up to that point, at his own sometimes glacial pace, but still. We were exactly where I wanted us to be.
It was a resolve that took my drunk brain a moment to get to, and just like that, in that brief moment of clarity, I looked across the crowd at the one person that had the ability to knock my resolve down.
It was almost like a scene in a movie. The people standing, talking, and dancing between us were all moving in slow motion. Pete was there on the other side of the Great Hall, standing tall, and it almost looked as if he was floating above the crowd. I tried not to make eye contact, which was futile. We locked eyes as soon as I saw him.
And even while thinking about how far along Mike and I had come, looking at Pete, all of that melted away.
With another deliberate shake of my head, I pushed Pete out of my head, and replaced the thoughts with what I had just decided about Mike. It was Mike and me. For my sanity, I needed to believe in Mike and me.
But that didn't mean it needed to be easy. I watched as Pete sauntered through the crowd of people, walking towards, knowing exactly what he was doing to me. Watching him fight through the crowd gave me time to build up my resolve, purse my lips, and retrain my attitude.
If you can't have him, you have to hate him, I reminded myself. No matter how hard he made that.
"You can't reply to a text message anymore?" he whispered in my ear, getting impossibly close to me to make himself heard.
"I was preoccupied," I responded shortly.
"With your cadet?" he whispered.
"You know, you spent so much time worrying that you would lose to him, and look what happened. Funny how self-fulfilling prophecies work, isn't it?"
"How will I survive?" Pete asked sarcastically, matching my level of animosity in his response. That wasn't fair, I thought. He was the one that had walked towards me. He was the one who had come to my house, and he was the one who had violated my space by putting his lips so close to my ear.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's a party."
"And yet it's still my house." That's what people forgot in this open-party era at Old Dominion. Sure, we were obligated to open our parties to the general public after 10 pm, but I still had jurisdiction over those I let in. Somewhere, that part of the policy had been lost.
"Are you going to kick me out?"
"Do whatever you want, Mr. Peterson. I'm indifferent."
"You're face says otherwise," he whispered, reading me like a book he'd just checked out of the library. I didn't respond, but instead took a deep breath and tried not to concentrate on his body being less than inch from mine, his face next to mine, and his lips breathing into my ear as he whispered.
"What would your cadet say if he saw us right now? This close. Talking."
And that's when I lost it. Pete didn't want me, according to him and Amanda, and I had to take that at face value. Why, then, I thought, was he doing this to me? Why was he drawing me back in like a pathetic sack of shit that couldn't quit him to save my life.
I felt myself slipping back into wanting him, needing him, and luckily for me, I caught myself.
"Five things, Pete. And you listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. Five: Mike is secure in our relationship. He isn't jealous, or petty, or threatened by someone whose idea of flirting is picking up his skirt and running the other way. Four: Mike and I communicate how we feel to each other, you should try that sometime. If something is bothering him, he'll tell me and we'll talk it out, the way adults do. Three: You should really work on getting some new material. This thing about whispering in my ear, leaning in, trying so hard to seduce me just so that you can remind us both that you aren't gay is getting very, very tiresome. I cannot stress that enough. Two: Your obsession with who I'm seeing, and what we're doing is cause for concern, and you should really get that checked out, because one: Who I'm fucking is none of your damned business."
I took a deep breath, proud of myself for finally expressing how I felt to Pete. I didn't care what his reaction was, and as I was ready to turn and walk away from him, I heard a loud crack reverberate in the air, as if someone had broken a splinter of wood in two.
Before I knew what was happening, I turned to my right to see Mike shaking off his right hand. I turned back to Pete to watch him fall down to the ground, grabbing at his nose. There was blood coming through his fingers, and it took me a second in the chaos to register what had happened.
"Fuck, Mike," I shouted, grabbing his arm, and shielding him from the forming crowd. It was unmistakable what had just happened, with Pete lying on his back, snarling through a bloody nose, and Mike staring him down as if he were a lion protecting his pride.
"Fuck, Mike," I repeated as I scanned the crowd and watched as what seemed like every eye in Clifton Hill turned to see the aftershock of the punch heard round the world.
"What the fuck did you do?" I asked in a moment of stillness before the chaos began.
*Thanks for reading and following along. I apologize for the delay in posting. We're getting into some extremely personal territory, so I appreciate all of your patience and feedback. As always, all feedback is appreciated and can be sent to jwolf24450@gmail.com