My pledge class forms a line along the counter, each of us taking a different fruit to cut into pieces. There are bags of apples, oranges, kiwis, lemons, and limes. Cartons of berries are stacked in a neat pile on the center of the table, with the other fruits surrounding them. It’s as if the entire produce section at the grocery store was dumped out in front of us.
I let out an irritated puff of air as I slice the orange in front of me, my fingers dripping with juice.
Zoe notices my annoyance and nudges me in the side, her voice so soft only I can hear her. “This will all be over soon enough,” she reminds me.
She’s right. After our pinning ceremony, we’ll be part of the Kappa Delta sisterhood, full-fledged members of our sorority, and hopefully, no longer their bitches. I’m getting sick of waiting on the girls and doing all the dirty work they force upon us.
I nod to let Zoe know I heard her and grab another orange to peel. We stay this way for over an hour, before all the fruits are ready to be added to the Kool-Aid mix Shannon made.
An hour later, Shannon dumps the Kool-Aid fruit juice combo into an oversized glass bowl in front of us.
She presses her palms to the counter and takes a big whiff of the aroma filling our nostrils. “This smells amazing.”
“Sure does,” Riley drawls. She smiles so wide it touches her denim irises.
Shannon pushes a stack of plastic cups in front of us and adds ice along with a metal ladle to the bowl. “Take two cups each. We have a lot of thirsty men working very hard on our kissing booth.” She says the last part with a wink and a crooked smile.
We do as she asks, our movements so robotic it’s as if we are all on autopilot. As much as I hate following orders, I understand the reason for all of it. At least our sisters haven’t asked us to do the ridiculous things I’ve seen the frat boys on campus do over the last few weeks. I never would have made it this far if they had.
In a single file line, we exit the kitchen and head outside, where we find a large group of sweaty, shirtless men, some with hammers and nails in their hands, and others holding up pieces of wood. Toned, tanned, and built in all the right places, these guys must be here to test us. No wonder why Abby was so insistent on us not flirting with them.
The girls in front of me greet the shirtless boys, their hands outstretched with cups of juice. I shuffle through the crowd, and that’s when I see him. Tucker, the sexy blond from the Quad, is inches from me. He pulls a navy colored shirt from the back pocket of his mesh shorts and raises it to his face to wipe the sweat from his brows.
Why is he here? Most of the guys on the lawn are pledges at a fraternity, sent by their brothers as a favor.
A ripple of pleasure shoots through me as I study every inch of Tucker’s ripped body. All he did was wipe sweat from his face, and I’m already dead. My mouth opens wide, my eyes fixed on his thick muscles, killer abs, and sculpted legs, all of which glistens in the sunlight. For a second, I think about how it would feel to be in his arms, covered with his huge body.
I don’t even realize I’m stunned, my feet stuck to the ground, my mouth still agape, until he steps forward, a devious smirk on his handsome face. Now, I’m busted. My cheeks flush when it hits me that Tucker’s spotted me checking him out. But he does the same to me. His eyes travel over my legs, before making his way back up to my chest. He settles his gaze on my breasts and licks his lips, same as he did the last time we ran into each other.
Rolling his tongue over his bottom lip, he moves toward me. I mimic his reaction because he stirs up the same need inside me. He makes me want to do things that are uncharacteristic for me. I want him bad, more than I’ve ever wanted another man.
And then, I recall Shannon’s warning in the cafeteria. There was a reason she told me to stay away from Tucker. Wasn’t there? My mind goes blank when he smiles, and this time, it’s a real one, not one of his usual smirks.
“Jemma with a J,” he says, his voice so deep and smooth it sends a wave of heat down my arms. “I told you I would find you.”
Oh. My. God.
Eight
Tucker
“Yo,” Trent says, throwing a pillow at my head, as the alarm clock blares through the speakers. “Time to wake up, bro. We gotta leave soon.”