The idea of the run was simple. You went from frat to frat, knocked on the door, and asked for your birthday drink. The guys gave you your drink and wrote you a message on the birthday sign you wore. Some were sweet. Some were lewd. It was all in good fun.
"First we eat!" Victoria said. "So we don't drink on empty stomachs."
I was touched by their support, and did my best to get into the spirit. "What? Me, Morgan Peterson drink on an empty stomach? Unheard of!"
Yes, I was known for going out on an empty stomach.
The night was cold, but it wasn't raining or snowing. I wore a cute, flared dress coat over my party dress. It was too cold to rely purely on an alcohol blanket.
We went to Zeta Nu first. When we arrived, the guys were waiting for us on the front porch like someone had texted them we were coming.
"If it isn't the birthday girl!" one of the guys called out.
They catcalled and serenaded me as me and my sisters came up the steps. Their president waited for me with a shot of tequila.
The guys chanted as their pres handed me a lime wedge and a saltshaker. "Drink, drink, drink, drink!"
I licked my hand provocatively, salted it, and slammed the tequila. It burned all the way down. The frat pres grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. "Happy birthday, baby!"
We went from frat to frat to frat and repeated the same scene until I was buzzed and unsteady on my feet. Months of sobriety out the window. But even the alcohol didn't numb the pain. I wanted to be with Dakota.
Dakota
At the stroke of midnight, the guys in the house who were already twenty-one were taking me on a bar run. I sat in my room, playing video games, waiting for the witching hour. The jewelry box I had planned to give Morgan sat on my desk. I didn't know why I left it there. Out of false hope, I guess. Just before midnight, when her birthday was finally nearly over, I admitted defeat, grabbed it, and tossed it in a drawer. She wasn't going to answer my calls or see me. She'd shut me out.
I didn't want to think it. I certainly didn't want to admit it. But it felt like we were as over as Jordan and I were.
Just as I slammed the drawer shut, like closing a chapter on my life, there was a knock on my door.
I grabbed my coat. "You guys are early—" I swung the door open.
One of our pledges stood in the hall, holding a bakery box. "This came for you. Special delivery." He handed it to me and walked off.
There was no card, nothing. I was thinking it was a birthday cake from my parents. I carried it to my desk and opened it without fear. A half of a half sheet cake, its edge neatly cut in down the middle to reveal white cake and raspberry filling, sat in the box.
Happy 21st Birthday, Dakota!
It was decorated with the Tau Psi letters and the university colors. One frosting champagne glass was tilted, like it should have been clinking a matching one in a toast on the missing half of the cake.
I picked up the cake, ready to throw it across the room.
My buddy Brett walked in with a group of my frat brothers. "Cake! Awesome!" He peered into the box. "Dude! Did you eat half a cake yourself?"
I set the cake back down on the desk. "Half the cake was hers."
"Sorry, man." Brett slapped me on the back as another one of the guys swiped a blob of frosting on his fingers.
"Delicious! You going to share? Never drink on an empty stomach."
I grabbed the cake box. "To the kitchen. For forks. Let's polish this thing off before we go."
The clock struck midnight as we reached the kitchen. The guys sang "Happy Birthday" and made short work of the cake. And the milk the cook had left in the fridge. No one seemed to notice that I didn't have a bite. When there were nothing but crumbs left, we grabbed our coats and headed out to the first bar, the one that was on the edge of Greek Row.
We'd just reached the sidewalk when a group of Double Deltsies turned the corner and came up the street on the opposite side. My heart lurched. Morgan was in front, laughing, stumbling in incredibly sexy shoes, and wearing her birthday run sign.
She was so damned beautiful. I swore beneath my breath, remembering everything I had planned for our joint birthdays. One day off sobriety and she was already drunk.
She glanced at me and looked away like she hadn't seen me. I knew she had. Damn it. As president of the house, I should have been giving her the birthday drink. I'd had it planned—all the guys would be waiting to sing her happy birthday. She'd show off the lavalier I'd given her. The guys would welcome her like a sister. We'd party into the wee hours.
I recognized Alexis, Kelly, Kayla, Victoria, and most of the others. It was obvious they had no intention of coming to the house for a birthday drink.
"Fucking stuck-up Double Deltsies!" Brett slapped me on the back. "We don't need them."
Maybe not. But I sure as hell wanted Morgan. I missed her. She'd left a hole in my heart in a way my breakups with Jordan never had.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan
Victoria drove me to the courthouse on Monday to retrieve my driver's license. Dakota and I had planned to go together. Now I crossed my fingers I didn't run into him. And at the same time, prayed desperately that I did.
I hadn't found a way to get him out of my mind, especially since I'd seen him heading out for his birthday bar run. And looked the other way. Because my heart was breaking and I couldn't stand it. Because I'd been drunk, which made me more emotional than usual. And I was tired of crying, especially on my birthday, when all my sisters were trying to cheer me up.
Victoria understood my mood in almost the same way a biological twin would. She was hellbent on distracting me from my depressed, weepy thoughts. "Now that you're off social probation, have you thought about who you're going to invite to the crush event week after next?"
I shook my head and frowned. "No idea. Probably no one. I'm not crushing on anyone right now." Despite everything, I only wanted Dakota. Hearts could be traitorous like that.
She shook her head back at me and tsked. "Shame on you, party girl Morgs. You can't let the house down. We're counting on you to bring in some hot guys and liven things up."
We held the crush every year a few weeks before Valentine's Day. The idea of it was simple. We held a big dance party. Each girl invited three or four guys they thought were hot and might be interested in. Crushes. So the party would end up guy intensive and heavy with possibilities for everyone. Lots of choices. All the girls in demand for every dance.
And yes, there was always drama. You didn't have to stick with your own crushes. You could hit on or get hit on by anyone's. Poaching was totally allowed. Which led to some hard feelings at times when someone's special crush hooked up with a different girl. But the point was to up everyone's odds of finding a Valentine before the fact. And you just had to live with the risk of your crush finding someone else. Wasn't that the way it was, anyway?
We walked into the lobby of the courthouse and went to the reception desk. The lady there directed us to a window on the second floor, where we stood in line and claimed my license.
I'd just stuffed my license in its rightful place in my purse as we came down the stairs and headed for the exit. Dakota strode in through the lobby doors, blocking our way out. He froze when he saw us. There was no way to avoid him. We had to walk past him.
My heart seized up so hard it hurt, a tightly wound knot of emotions.
He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Though, really, of course we would both be here today. But at the same time? What were the odds of that?
"Morgan?" He looked at me like he couldn't decide if I was a clone or something. Maybe a mirage.
He looked hot and hopeful. Eager and tentative in a way that cracked the ice I felt toward him. His eyes lit up at the sight of me.
I would have had to have a heart of solid stone not to be touched. "Dakota."
"Picked up your license already?" His tone was too casual, like he was trying too hard to be calm and collect
ed.
My hands shook. I grabbed the strap of my purse to hide the trembling of my nerves, and nodded, feeling guilty.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he leaned in and whispered to me. "We made it."
It was like an inside joke between us. There had been so many times we almost screwed up. If not for him… Well, it had never been a foregone conclusion. I thought of him driving through the snow for me and getting stopped at the roadblock. Of the huge risk he'd taken for me. Now that I was calmer, and faced with the real him instead of the humiliation of standing in front of my sisters at the house while a girl called my boyfriend a cheater, I saw things more clearly. I smiled shakily back at him. Wanting. Hoping. Afraid.
"I guess this negates our sobriety buddy deal," he said. "Our vows were until we turned twenty-one."
My throat closed up. I nodded. "Yeah. You don't need me anymore." Why was my heart breaking again? Why was my pulse racing like I'd been too proud and too hasty? Like I should have trusted him instead of that screaming bitch Jordan?
"I'll always need you." His voice was soft. His eyes pleaded with me to understand.
Victoria and Brett had backed off and faded into the background. My heart was cracking. I felt about ready to shatter.
Dakota's breath was warm in my ear. "You were never my cover girlfriend." He kissed my cheek. "Happy birthday, Morgan."
I got a whiff of his cologne, which brought back so many memories of being in his arms. I wanted to throw myself in them now and hold him close.
He stepped back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "They finally scheduled the victims' panel I'm supposed to attend. It's this Friday. There's probably still time to get on it if you want to." His smile was sad and seductive at the same time. "I deserve everything you can throw at me. Figuratively, of course. I don't think actually throwing physical items is allowed."
How could he keep breaking my heart like this?
"I'll text you the details." He pulled his phone out and began typing. "There."
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
"Now you have plenty of time to think up all the ways you want to berate me for ruining your life and trying to kill you."
"No." I put my hand on his arm. "Why would I lie? You didn't ruin my life. I think you saved me from myself. If you hadn't nearly run over me, I would have continued wanting the wrong things in life. The wrong guy." My words startled me as much as they appeared to surprise him.
But they were true. I cleared my throat. I was on the edge of losing the little composure I was clinging to so desperately. "You pick up your license at the window on the second floor." I nodded to Victoria. "Let's go."
Dakota stepped out of my way.
"Good luck," I said as we walked past him.
Dakota
Stupid little things gave me hope. Like Morgan telling me I'd saved her life. Like not showing up on the victims' panel. Like getting an invitation to the Double Deltsie crush the day after I saw her at the courthouse.
The invitation was pinned to my door while I was out. As was tradition, it was anonymous. You weren't supposed to know which girl in the house was crushing on you. Which was why it was done the old-fashioned way, on paper.
It was no use grilling the guys to see if anyone had seen it being delivered. The girl doing the crushing wouldn't have been the one who came to the house to deliver it. A sister of hers would have done it. The whole thing was top secret.
My heart beat out of control. I was hoping this was Morgan's way of making up. Hoping she was crushing. I was being a stupid fool in love. I got the lavalier out of the drawer in my desk and opened the box.
The gold letters sparkled in the light of my lamp. Shit. A plan formed in my mind. A bold, outrageous plan. I could end up looking like such a fool. Be humiliated before the entire Double Deltsie house. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I texted Kelly that I needed to see her about house business.
Morgan
The Wednesday of our annual crush, a pink rose in a bud vase appeared on the table in the entryway. The table where all flower deliveries were made. There was no card with the flower, and no explanation.
Speculation, however, ran high. A pink rose in a bud vase meant one of several things—a lavaliering or a pinning. Or even an engagement. Optimism thrummed in the air as half a dozen girls who had serious boyfriends in frats hoped they were going to be the lucky one.
Lavaliering and pinning requirements and ceremonies varied by sorority. Some required foreknowledge by the girl who was going to be the subject of the ceremony. In the Double Deltsie house, the guy could ask for a surprise ceremony.
Attendance at dinner that night was pretty much mandatory. We were instructed to dress up for the occasion, which was normal for dress dinner night, anyway. Whoever the girl was, she was spectacularly lucky. Her guy was a romantic to the core. It was clear he meant to be the best crush of the evening and make it into a lavaliering or pinning celebration.
The thing about pinning and lavaliering was that sometimes the girl knew for sure and was expecting it. Sometimes she knew it was going to happen, but not when. And sometimes it was a total surprise. Though usually the guy had to be pretty sure of a girl's desire before he went out with such a public declaration. You don't declare a girl is more important than your frat brothers just to have her publicly diss you by turning you down.
We were all excited and supremely curious as we dressed for dinner and did our makeup with special care. Whoever the lucky girl was, she was, remarkably, keeping things under wraps. Or she was simply in the dark. If I had to bet, that was what I would put my money on.
When we filed in for dinner, the tables were set for a formal dinner. The rose sat in the middle of the head table where the sorority officers were seated, along with a candle.
The house was filled with nervous anticipation as we nibbled our way through dinner.
When the dishes were cleared, Kelly called for order. "I have an announcement to make." She pointed to the pink rose in the bud vase before her. "As you can all see, tonight one of us is going to make one of our Greek brothers very happy. We hope."
We laughed, full of nerves and excitement.
"Lavaliering, pinning, and engagement ceremonies are special and solemn occasions. We respect our letters, as do our Greek brothers. To make a public declaration that you are putting a girl above your letters and your fraternity brothers is a serious statement to make." She stood up. "Would everyone please form a circle around the room for our ceremony."
While we formed a circle around the dining room, Kelly explained the ceremony for the new girls among us. "Our house tradition is to pass a candle around from girl to girl while I read a letter from the guy to the sister being honored tonight. Once around the room means we're having a lavaliering ceremony. Twice means a pinning. And three times means a proposal of marriage."
Sarah, one of our freshmen, was next to me. She was practically bouncing with pleasure at the thought of her first ceremony.
"The candle will stop at the girl who is being so honored tonight. The other part of the tradition is that the guy has written the girl a love letter for the house president to read to the house while the candle is passed. The letter is full of clues, and expresses his deepest feelings for her. The hope is that the girl will realize who she is by the time the candle stops at her."
Kelly picked up a match. "This is a surprise for the girl being honored tonight. It's doubly special because she invited her crush here, and tonight he shows his passionate commitment to her."
That took me out. Not that I expected to be lavaliered, pinned, or engaged. But I was supposed to have been the next girl in the house to be lavaliered. On my birthday. I tried to push my disappointment aside and be happy for my sister, whoever she was.
The ceremony started with Kelly reading a statement about the meaning of our house letters and his.
He's a Tau Psi. My heart stopped beating for a second. The guy was a Tau Psi. Like Dakota.
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Who here was seriously dating a Tau Psi? Everyone was looking around, trying to guess. Three girls were involved with Tau Psis. One was just a freshman, which pretty much ruled her out. This was a ceremony that usually didn't happen until you were at least a junior. The faces of the two other girls lit up.
I breathed deeply, trying to be as happy for my sister, whoever she was, as the house had been supportive of me during the humiliation with Dakota.
Kelly lit the candle, and, holding her hand around the flame so it wouldn't go out, passed it to the girl to her right.
I looked around the circle and realized I was only about six girls from the end. Were any of the girls to my right the one?
Kelly picked up a folded piece of paper, opened it, and began to read as the candle slowly, and with much solemnity, made its way around the circle.
"'Some relationships start with fireworks and a bang,'" she said. "'Ours started with fireworks, all right. I was crushing on her while she was crushing on a former friend of mine.'"
My pulse raced, even though it was silly. So the first part of the story sounded familiar. This kind of thing happened all the time at college.
"'We slid from there into enemies. She wanted him. I wanted her so badly I became bitter and discouraged.'"
Eyes were tearing up around me. This guy was baring his soul.
"'I waited for over two years. It took me nearly running her over and being sentenced to attend the same session of Alcohol and Drug Information School for us to come together again and become frenemies. From frenemies, we became secret sobriety buddies, to best friends, to falling in love.'"
The candle reached me. Beside me, Victoria nudged me to accept it. I'd been entranced by the letter. I was shaking so badly, as I reached for it, I was afraid I would put the flame out. Or drip wax all over myself. Or start crying. This was my story. Mine and Dakota's. But that couldn't be. I hadn't invited him here. He wouldn't be so bold.
Crushed (Rushed #2) Page 20