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Jai
Party preparations were beginning, but so was the migraine. The anal-retentive dickheads had been going nonstop since sunrise. Every weekend had started this way without fail. I didn’t understand the need. Put out food—fuck, cater the food. Throw drinks in a cooler, sync someone’s playlist, and keep it simple. Honestly, they acted like we were organizing their weddings.
“Let’s go, idiots,” Callum bellowed from the lower floor. I knew he only called out for my absence. There were expectations for this polite society of borderline psychopaths, and it really burned Callum’s ass that I treated their standards casually and akin to suggestions. The one thing I was never going to budge on was their idea of attire.
Fuck that.
My bed was so fucking comfortable, but it lacked the smell of Bexley’s perfume. The initial intoxicating scents of fruit were my favorite. After a while, vanilla notes remained before I washed the sheets. I pulled myself out of bed and strode across the small space to the door. There wasn’t much in here, but it was cozy.
The desk had my PC setup, and there was a little bookshelf off to the right for textbooks and other reads I gathered. I could only fit a small lounge chair with my guitar at the other end, and a TV was mounted to the wall. Beyond that was a modest closet.
I knew they gave me the shittiest room because that was how they saw me; less than a member is what they considered it. The humor wasn’t lost that I was the biggest person in the smallest space.
The mirror on the door reflected the sentiment that I held. Waiting downstairs would be an embarrassing portrayal of “Greek” in bedsheet togas, strategically placed so that their bodies would “reflect the statues of gods.”
I actually fucking choked on a laugh when I read that email.
No, I was not going to participate in their group outfits. Black jeans, a fitted long sleeve for the weather, and my black industrial boots. That was more than comfortable. Given the usual setup, it was all I needed to compliment the mask. My hand was on the knob, ready to walk downstairs. I left the mask on the laundry bin by the door, but all I could do was stare at it.Bex isn’t coming.
Pushing that train of thought out, I opened the door and ducked through the frame. The hallway creaked when I stepped onto its hardwood. Not a single expense was spared in the efforts of appearing upper class. I heard the hum of their conversation from the top of the stairs, and it slowly died as my purposeful footfalls reached the bottom.
“Jeff, I sent the email about Greek Night! Why aren’t you in a toga?” Callum accosted me when I turned the corner. He was an asshole through and through.
“Jai,” I said with an edge, pointing to my chest. “And I’m not doing that,” I clarified as I flicked my hand in their direction.
“You have to participate in the events–”
“I am,” I cut him off before he could lay into the same speech he liked to give me. “I agreed to be a participant in the events, but this group cosplay to get chicks isn’t something I’m interested in, nor bound to.”
“You better make yourself visible. You’ve cut out early each night. It’s going to eventually make us look bad.”
To whom, pray tell?
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Callum,” I appeased, but it was a lie.In Bex’s arms would be preferred.
“Fine,” he scoffed and waved me free to join the others. “As for the pledges,” he started, but I stopped listening. I had no interest in ordering around kids they had no intentions of accepting just to get my rocks off.
The sun started to set, and shadows danced on the wall. We expected people to fill the expansive space soon. It really was a grotesque flaunt of wealth. It was nauseating to sit in a wannabe cigar parlor that was only missing private escorts: velvet upholstery, ornate carvings in the wood, gaudy wallpapering. I mean really, who wants to stare at red and gold floral patterns?
Daniel moved from my side and left with Gregory. I noticed half of the brothers had gone to their “zones” to kick off the party. More wedding-like nonsense. Callum devised zones of operations, so that two-man teams could manage things that didn’t actually need managing. This bullshit was going to kill me by the end of the year.
One more term, that’s all I need.
Daniel and Gregory together caused trouble, and the air changed when they left. A little nudge wanted to cause a stir. I stood up from the gaudy chair, the wood creaking when relieved of my weight. I followed their path out of the sitting room and saw them exit the out of the other side of the living room. I prowled behind them with a dubious smile.
The living room was actually a nice space and hadn’t been contaminated by ass design taste: biggest TV I’d ever had the pleasure to experience, comfortable cloth couches along the walls that fit my size, and every gaming system you could ask for. I didn’t care for it tonight.
Ducking once more, I entered the back foyer leading outside. I heard pieces of muffled conversation. Opening the back door, I took a casual stance on the brick patio. Gregory noticed me first but didn’t greet me.
“She’s got a tight little ass, dude.” Daniel’s voice carried as I pulled out my vape and acted disinterested. Daniel always talked about someone’s tight body part ad nauseam.
“This that Berky chick?” Gregory asked, clueless as ever. Daniel hacked up some phlegm and spit it across the rail. A true image of their sophisticated upbringing.
“Nah, man.Bex-ley.” Daniel emphasized her name, and my spine stiffened. I pulled another lungful as he continued. The coil crackled delightfully, and I wanted to hear those same cracks from Daniel’s nose.
“Malcolm’s bitch?”‘Kay, done with that one.Gregory was a dunce.
I squared my shoulders as I turned toward them. Daniel stopped his laugh short and met my gaze when Gregory’s eyes widened. I wasn’t well versed on Bex’s past relationship, but I knew enough about Malcolm to know he could be a piece of shit.
