“Honestly, if it had been Josie, we’d both still be here. So no, I trust you and your gut feeling.” Brock was the best kind of wingman. He always had my back, and that was exactly why he was with me tonight, despite him wanting to see Josie.
My lips curled. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt to check out the competition. The only parties anyone will be talking about on campus are ours. I need to see what we’re up against.”
We started for the porch, walking up the stone pathway. “Since when did we agree our house would be party central?”
I playful whacked him on the back. “That was a given.”
“Why the fuck did I agree to room with you?” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Because no one else can tolerate your ass, excluding Josie,” I added. “I don’t know how she puts up with you.” Brock made it far too easy to harass him.
“Christ, Micah. It’s only the first week and you’re already gung ho to make enemies.”
The bulky security guy with pythons for muscles tipped his gaze up as we approached the porch.
“You can take the guy out of Elmwood, but you can’t take the Elite out of him.”
Letting out a sigh, Brock said, “I’m not getting a busted lip tonight.”
“Fine,” I relented, cracking my knuckles more for fun than intimidation. “No blood. Just a few bruises,” I conceded.
Brock rolled his eyes as we climbed the three stairs leading to the porch.
We were greeted by the scrawny douche. He had one of those sleazy smiles that bookies wore, sly and devious. Definitely, someone you didn’t trust with money, and yet the Chi Sigma did. Dressed in pressed khaki shorts and a polo, he looked like every rich kid who just got off the golf course. My first instinct was to hit him, right smack in his smirking mouth. I clenched and unclenched my fingers.
“Hundred each or find somewhere else to drink,” he said, placing the bottle in his hand on the porch ledge.
“Hundred?” I repeated, my brows lifted. “A little steep for such a small gathering, don’t you think?”
His nothing-special hazel eyes twinkled with arrogance and humor. “Hundred or get lost.” He held out his hand, waiting for Brock or me to slap on some bills.
Brock folded his arms, the biceps from a discipline of daily hours at the gym stretching against the material of his shirt. “Such a warm greeting. If I hadn’t been invited personally by your president, I might be offended.” Brock had this presence about him that I had always admired. It was more than the commanding tone of his voice or the confidence of his posture. He just had it. Whateveritwas.
“You know Sterling?” the door-douche asked, his cocky smirk faltering ever so slightly.
“That’s not important. You should be more concerned with who the fuckIam.” My friend just glared at him.
“Uh, should I know you?” He glanced over Brock’s face, confused.
Brock took a step forward. “If you don’t, learn the name. Brock Taylor.” His gaze slid down to the doorman’s waiting hand and lifted a brow.
Panic sliced into the dude’s eyes at the recognition of Brock’s name, his hand lowering. “You’re like a football legend, man.”
“So I’m told.”
“Here, let me get you a beer.” The guy looked left and right, eyes darting in search of a full bottle. He ended up grabbing the one he had set on the ledge and offering it to Brock.
My friend took the bottle, not because he planned to drink a half-drunk beer but because hecouldtake it. I snickered as we passed by, respecting the magic of Brock Taylor.
I didn’t know what I expected when I walked into the house, but unimpressed was my first thought. My gaze did a quick sweep of the lower floor, and nothing exciting or unique struck me. Music pumped from speakers set throughout the main rooms, someone with an iPhone controlling the songs. A small group of drunk girls danced. There were a few rounds of beer pong and other drinking games going on, but the whole thing seemed so… tame.
Chi Sigma was supposed to be so exclusive, yet their party failed to be anything beyond what a fucking five-year-old could have thrown. It was just so fucking… average.
The disappointment was real.
Despite Brock using his name to get us inside, neither of us looked to draw attention. That wasn’t the point of this little social experiment. We were to blend in and go unnoticed so we could observe the fraternity and its members. Beer and parties tended to have people let their guards down. I hoped that was the case tonight, as I wanted to do a little snooping while I was here. It couldn’t hurt.
No one took much notice of us as we weaved through the crowd, making our way into another part of the first floor, a game room equipped with pool, Ping-Pong, and Foosball tables, as well as a wood-burning fireplace. Trophies lined the deep walnut mantel. The walls were a rich forest green with pictures of past alumni hanging in frames. It wasn’t a bad place to hang out, but why did the room feel so stiff to me?