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“Yo, Alex.” Jordan comes stumbling over to me carrying two red plastic cups as I look at all the mayhem around me. Basically, he guilted me into coming to this party. I know I should be more excited. After all, this is a real fraternity party, but to be honest, I’m exhausted. I’m running on coffee and nervous energy. I stayed up until three in the morning on Thursday fine-tuning my first paper for engineering. Not just because I’m going to be judged by Brett, but also because writing is something I excel at.
“Thanks.” I take the plastic cup from him and wrinkle my nose at the red liquid, which smells like rubbing alcohol.
“Is your car ready?” He smiles. See, Jordan promised if we just stopped by his fraternity party, he’d drive me to get my car as soon as it was ready. But from the looks of him, he’s already drunk.
“No. The part didn’t come in,” I grumble. “Are you drunk?” My eyes take in his flushed cheeks.
“No. No way, I was just arm wrestling.” He laughs as a couple of guys shout behind us.
I almost ask why, but who cares. Taking a sip, I almost gag. “What is this?” I shove the cup at him.
Laughing, he chugs his.
“It’s Danny Boy’s famous punch,” he yells even though we’re outside. “Trust me, after the first couple of sips, it tastes good.”
“Come on, Alex, let’s have some fun. We survived the first week.” He holds up his hands and does a really bad dance, which of course makes me grin at him.
“Fine.” I take another sip, feeling like I’m drinking some sort of acid, but he’s kind of right—it does go down easier the second time.
“Let me show you around.” He wraps an arm casually around my shoulders as we walk back inside the large two-story, white-pillared house. I don’t know why I visualized his fraternity house as some kind of shack with beer cans and empty kegs everywhere. This is not like that at all. It’s huge and gorgeous with hardwood floors, expensive furniture, and the kitchen is state of the art. Like I wish I lived here.
“For some reason, when you invited me to your frat party, I visualizedAnimal House,” I yell over the loud music as we enter the large front room where a lot of people are laughing and drinking.
“What?” He cocks his head as if he’s confused.
“Animal House… remember the Delta House?” I laugh. “Toga, toga.” I keep going, because has he not seenAnimal House? I know it’s old, but come on, who hasn’t seenAnimal House? It’s a classic.
“It’s a movie, right?” He looks over my head at someone.
“Yes.” I take another sip, and my tongue’s kind of tingling. The phone vibrates in my hand, and my heart skips a beat.
“Holy shit.” I elbow him, and he acts like I just gut punched him, spilling half his punch on the floor.
“Oh God, sorry.” I look around for something to mop up the spill.
“It’s fine. Darren hired people to clean up. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls away from the mess, and we move to a corner. “Now, what’s up?” He steps in closer. I know Jordan likes me, and if I could get Dean Powers out of my head, I might actually be interested. As it is, though, I can’t think about anyone but the dean.
I hold up my phone. “Our grade just came in for the engineering paper.” I take a long sip of punch. My face flushes, but I need the liquid courage.
Jordan snorts, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Fucking Dean Powers. Giving us grades on a Friday night just to ruin our weekends. Typical.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket.
Glancing around the large room, I realize I’m underdressed, if the girls wandering around in short skirts and heels are any indication. In my defense, I wanted to go home and change out of my jeans and tee, but Jordan insisted it was casual.
“Wow,” he hisses, jolting my attention back to him.
“What did you get?” I almost grab him and shake him as he looks up from his phone with a small grin on his lips.
“You first, although I already know it’s an A. I read your paper, remember?” He smirks.
Taking a deep breath, I push on the class, taking me to the grades, and blink at the screen.
C
That can’t be right. I’m not bragging, but I know how to write a killer paper, so a C is unacceptable. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a C.
“What did you get?” My eyes remain focused on my phone.
“Fucking arrogant prick gave me a B.”
