Frat Girl

by Kiley Roache

“Yeah, but not forever,” I say.

  “I guess that’s kind of the point,” Jordan says. “I think it’s about moments. Moments of turning the ordinary into something more. Like when you find a five-dollar scarf under your bed that smells like them, and for ten seconds you just kneel on the floor breathing it in, because in that moment that cheap thing from Chinatown is like the axis the world turns around. And, yeah, later you may be on your own or with someone else, and they may be with someone new, too. But there are seven billion people in the world, and you collided with that one person for at least a little while, and they made synapses fire in your brain in a way they never would have otherwise, and that’s remarkable. They left their mark on you, and just because they aren’t around forever, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t super-fuckin’-cool when you were together. Love ending doesn’t mean love never was. It just means that, like everything else on this earth, it’s finite.”

  I stare at him from across the circle.

  “Damn, Jordan,” Duncan says. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  Jordan shrugs and passes the joint.

  “But how do you ever know?” Duncan asks.

  “It’s when you meet the person who makes you realize that everything before was kiddie pools and this is an ocean,” Sai says.

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Yeah, until she cheats on you.” He shifts in his seat. “God, where’s the weed? Puff, puff, pass. Were you raised in a barn?” he asks the guy next to him.

  Thoughts of love and loss and lies and forever ricochet around in my head for the rest of the night, even as I’m heading upstairs to go to sleep.

  “Cassie,” a voice says just as I’m about to reach the top step.

  Jordan grabs my arm, and when I spin around we’re only inches apart.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says. “And I want more than texts and stolen kisses.”

  I glance at Sebastian’s door, but it’s closed, with no light coming from the crack at the bottom.

  “I want you,” Jordan says as he pulls me into the most amazing kiss. “May I come in?” His voice is low and breathy.

  I nod as I fumble with the lock, barely taking my eyes off him.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I wake up half-naked to someone pounding on my door.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” I turn to Jordan, who’s still asleep, one armed draped around me and his face still in his so-cute-it’s-stupid smile.

  “Wake up,” I whisper.

  “Hmm?” He raises his head slowly.

  I scramble to find where I threw his clothes the night before. We hadn’t slept together; he’d been very respectful and gentlemanly about that, but what we did do was...well, a lady doesn’t talk, but I’m not really much of a lady and...daaaammn.

  He’s sitting on the edge of the bed by the time I find his shirt and pants. I shove the clothes into his arms.

  “Someone’s here—get in the closet.” He jumps up and climbs into the wardrobe, closing that door just as the room one opens.

  “One second!” I jump into bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

  “Cass!” Duncan barrels into the room. “They voted that you get to be initiated!”

  “That’s great!”

  He suddenly notices that I’ve buried myself in blankets. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just, uh, not wearing any clothes.”

  “Oh.” He furrows his brow. “Oh my God, is there someone—”

  “No, no, just me.” I force a smile.

  “Oh. Oh.” His eyes go wide. “Well, um, I guess it would be antifeminist of me to judge, cuz, like, I do it, too, but...”

  Oh. My. God. My face must be crimson. “Okayyy...well, bye then.”

  He leaves, and the closet door starts to open slowly.

  “You can come out now.”

  Jordan steps out, covering his mouth as he tries not to crack up. “That was—” He can’t even finish his sentence as he doubles over with laughter.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “There are so many jokes, I can’t pick one.” He gasps for breath between laughs. “That was great. That makes this whole sneaking-around shit worth it.”

  I make a face at him. He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

  He pulls his clothes on quickly and then pecks me quickly on the lips. “See you at initiation.”

  He checks to make sure no one’s there, then heads out into the hallway, but he peeks back around the door before he goes. “Hey, Cassie, try to finish quickly so you’re not late, okay?”

  “Ha-ha. You’re funny.”

  He winks and disappears.

  * * *

  At exactly twelve all the pledges gather in the main room, but the actives are nowhere to be found. People lean against the wall, sit on the furniture, check their watches. Few people are really talking, and those who do just whisper nervously.

  No one is exactly sure what we’ll be required to do.

  “All right, pledges, let’s get started!” Marco shouts as he bursts into the room. He’s wearing a long black robe, like he’s a Jedi or something. “I’ll call you into the ceremony room one by one.”

  People start to murmur at the word ceremony. Most things that involve words like tradition, ceremony and rite of passage have not been pleasant so far.

  “Absolute silence in the pledge pen will be required.”

  Everyone shuts up.

  “Okay. Ben ‘Bambi’ Worthington.”

  Bambi steps forward tentatively.

  “We don’t have all day! God, don’t make me give you a shot with two fucking minutes left.”

  Bambi shuffles forward, almost tripping over his own feet.

  “There’s no way he sheds that nickname after this,” Duncan murmurs after they disappear behind the doors. “It’s too perfect.”

  Every five minutes or so Marco reappears to summon another pledge.

  Until...

  “Cassandra ‘Title IX’ Davis.”

  My heart slamming against my chest, I step forward and follow him into the darkened living room. Black curtains cover the walls and windows. The actives are standing on tables in a circle, all of them wearing black robes and holding flashlights up to their faces.

  Oh my God. I’m about to join the dark side.

  Darth Vader, I mean, Peter, steps forward.

  “Pledge, state your name.”

  “Title IX?”

  Even in the dark, I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “State your given name.”

  “Cassandra Davis.”

  “Pledge Cassandra Davis.”

  “Yes?”

  “Please kneel.”

  Some of the hooded figures snicker. I roll my eyes but get on my knees anyway.

  “Do you promise to lend your loyalty and friendship and brotherhood, I mean sisterhood, let’s go with siblinghood, to the order of the Delta Tau Chi for the remainder of your life?”

  “I do.”

  “And to take the secrets of this ritual and the brotherhood to the grave?”

  I take a deep breath, thinking of all the transcripts locked in my desk upstairs. “I do.”

  “To uphold the virtues of Delta Tau Chi—valor, honesty and loyalty?”

  I bite my lip. “I do.”

  “Stand.”

  I do.

  He runs through the secret password and handshake so quickly that I remember nothing.

  “Now, to prove your allegiance, you must drink the blood of former members.”

  He presents a large plastic bag, but unless Franzia used to run through Deltas’ veins, I’m guessing this part of the ritual is a bit off script.

  “Just slap the bag,” he whispers.

  He holds the sack of
wine up while I chug and the rest of the actives count. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, seven, seven, seven, seven, seven.”

  I start to cough, and the wine burns in my throat and up my nose.

  “Welcome to Delta Tau Chi, Sister Cassandra.”

  “Valor, honesty, loyalty, brotherhood,” the hooded figures chant.

  Marco grabs my wrist and leads me through the door to the kitchen, where the rest of the new initiates are waiting. The bright light burns my eyes.

  “That’s it?” I ask.

  “I guess so,” someone says.

  “I hope so,” Bambi says.

  “I thought we were gonna have to kill a goat.”

  “I heard we were going to have to swallow a goldfish whole.”

  Finally Duncan comes through the door, the last pledge.

  “Now what?” I whisper to Bambi.

  “A’right, let’s party!” Peter shouts as he joins us, throwing his black robe at Bambi.

  The rest of the actives follow, also shedding their cloaks to reveal tanks and pastel shorts. The true frat uniform.

  Bass and Marco start to hand people red cups. When I get mine, I take a small sip. Champagne, nice. I mean, cheap-ass, sugary champagne, but still...

  “All right, men.” Peter climbs onto the coffee table. “And Cassie. You are now members of the best fraternity in the world. If there was ever a time to black out or back out, it is right fuckin’ now!”

  People scream and yell and chant and make all sorts of animalistic noises.

  “All right, all right,” Peter says, and the chaos dulls to a low roar. “Everyone raise their glasses. To honesty and loyalty.”

  “To honesty and loyalty!” everyone else echoes.

  And I swear, as we drink Peter’s eyes lock on me.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “I must say, Cassie, we’re very excited about the project.”

  “Well, thank you. I’ve worked very hard on it.”

  I try my best to swallow all my nervousness and sound grateful and professional. Despite my insistence that we should keep everything confidential until the project is done, Madison pitched it to a select group of journalists—strictly embargoed, of course—on Monday. Which is why I’m out here hiding behind the trees by the lake at seven in the morning on a Wednesday, mud soaking into my shoes while I try to sound like I’m awake enough to follow what Karen, a New York journalist, is saying.

  “I know you’re probably mulling over a lot of offers for the exclusive. But we are the place for feminist news on the internet, as I’m sure you know, and I will make sure your story is right at home.”

  “That’s really great,” I say. “Thank you so much for your interest. I’ll have to speak with the people at the Stevenson Fund and my faculty adviser, be—”

  “Oh, right! Eva Price. Tell me, is it just amazing working with her?”

  “It is. It really is, Karen.”

  In all honesty, I’ve barely seen her this semester, and we’re weeks in. But that’s expected when she’s off saving the world.

  “You’re so lucky.”

  “I really am.”

  Mostly. I hate that I have to hide out here like some kind of criminal, some traitor.

  But I guess that’s exactly what I’ll seem like to the guys if they ever find out. I mean, when they find out.

  “I’ll keep in touch, Karen. Nice talking to you, bye.” I tap the red button and push back my hair, which is sticking to my sweaty face. Lovely.

  It’s unusually hot today, but luckily I’m up three hours earlier than I need to be and have time to shower before class.

  Ten minutes later I’m heading down the hall, pink robe cinched around my waist, towel and shower caddy in hand, my flip-flops squeaking, when I stop dead in my tracks.

  A few feet away, Jordan is standing in front of his door in nothing but a towel he’s holding around his waist with one hand. I take in his smooth skin, strong arms...and those abs.

  But it’s when we lock eyes that really gets me.

  A week of quiet burning glances stolen from across the room, of going crazy not being able to kiss or hold hands or even really touch around the rest of the guys, of text messages, sweet and dirty, sent under the table, of wishing we could be alone, comes rushing back.

  “Hey.” My cheeks must be fire red, but I don’t giggle. None of this is really funny anymore.

  “Hey.” His voice is breathy and even lower than usual.

  “You, uh, you going to shower?” I ask.

  “Um, yeah. You?”

  “Yep.”

  I guess this is pretty obvious, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I like your, um, robe,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I say, very aware I’m not wearing anything under it. I wonder if he is, too.

  My flip-flops slap against my feet as we walk down the hall.

  We reach the bathroom, and he opens the door.

  “After you.”

  “Thanks.”

  The shower curtain makes a screeching sound as I pull it closed. Taking a deep breath, I stare at the white plastic for a second before slipping off my robe.

  I reach around the curtain to hang the robe on a small metal hook as the water in the stall next to me bursts on.

  I turn on my own.

  “Soooo, how was your morning so far?” he asks over the sound of the water.

  “It’s been good.” I clear my throat. My voice sounds unusually high.

  “That’s good.”

  “Mmm.” I lather soap on my body and I think of him. His hands on me. Slipping over every curve. Pulling my hair.

  “I, um, I’m really liking my classes this semester,” he says.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, fuck this.” His water cuts off, and within seconds he’s slipping around my curtain.

  I step forward out of the spray.

  A smile playing on his lips, he tilts his head down, eyes soaking in my body, wet from the shower.

  I bite my lip. Electricity runs through me just from the thought of his eyes on me.

  “God,” he breathes.

  His eyes flicker back up to mine, shining.

  We step toward each other at the same time, and he slips his hand behind my neck, fingers weaving through my wet hair as his lips brush mine. We stumble backward into the water. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him toward me.

  His hands slide down my body, and we crash into each other, bodies, arms and legs intertwined.

  He traces kisses down my neck. A sigh escapes my lips.

  His lips return to mine, this time urgent. He pushes me against the wall, and I moan against his lips, pulling him closer and closer.

  I’m overwhelmed by sensations, from the heat of the water to the heat between us. My head spins; I’m high off the taste of his lips.

  He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him.

  The bathroom door opens with a bang. We both look up.

  I look down at the curtain. There’s a foot of space between the bottom and the floor.

  I hold one finger to my mouth in a shushing gesture and then point to the gap.

  Jordan nods and continues to hold me up by my butt, a position that’s a lot more awkward when instead of kissing we’re trying to keep completely still. I wrap my arms tighter around his neck.

  “Dude, do you have a pink robe?”

  Jordan clears his throat. “Yeah. I, uh, lost a bet and had to buy one.”

  “Okay, you do you, I guess. I was gonna take a dump, but I guess I’ll come back later.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  The door slams again.

  I laugh as Jordan sets m
e back on my feet.

  “Sorry about that,” he says.

  “No, it’s fine. Adds to the romance.”

  “Oh, yeah, thinking about Dave’s bowel movements always gets me in the mood.”

  I laugh and then stretch up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He wraps an arm around me.

  I lean my head against his chest. “We should go somewhere.”

  “What?”

  “SF or the beach or something. For the long weekend, just both say we are going home?” We had a Friday off in a few weeks.

  He exhales. “Cassie, I’m sorry. I want to, really want to, but I just can’t afford—”

  “I’ll pay for it.”

  “What?”

  Since the scholarship covers the full cost of attendance and fraternity dues, the few thousand dollars I’d made from my last summer job had become disposable income. Plus they gave me five hundred dollars for books, and with buying online instead of from the bookstore, I was able to pocket half of that.

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  “I can’t let you—”

  I place my hand on his chest. “Listen, just let me get a hotel. I really do not want to lose my virginity in a frat house.”

  “You—you want to...?”

  I nod.

  “Are you sure?”

  I smile. “Yeah.”

  “Because you know I’m totally chill with whatever we do, and we should only do...it when you want to, because—”

  “Shh.” I place my finger over his mouth. “I want to.”

  I know that too soon there will come a day when he finds out the truth and I lose him. And I know that life is complicated, and even without the secrets I’m hiding, there’s no way we can promise each other forever. And that losing my virginity isn’t going to be like a teen movie.

  But him and me, in this moment: it’s pretty perfect. I trust him, and I care so deeply about him. And I want to do this with him. Even if I’m not sure what the future holds, I can promise him right now. And that’s more than enough.

  He kisses me, and I actually feel weak in the knees. Luckily his arms are wrapped tightly around me.

  I weave my fingers through his hair, and everything gets kind of heavy and slow, like the rest of the world is falling away.

  We break apart. “But not in the house?” he whispers.