SORORITY OF THREE
Book One: Freshman Year
by Melissa Brown
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 by Melissa Brown
All Rights Reserved
Edited and Formatted by Pam Berehulke
Cover Design by Lindsay Sparkes
Photography by Heather Bowser
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For my So3 beta readers.
Your enthusiasm and excitement about these three girls was motivating and inspiring beyond belief. So grateful for each and every one of you!!!!!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – GDIs and Proud
Chapter 2 – I Don’t Get It
Chapter 3 – Threes…
Chapter 4 – Not My Shoes!
Chapter 5 – Coffeehouse
Chapter 6 – Costumes
Chapter 7 – Sub Guy
Chapter 8 – Yo soy estupida!
Chapter 9 – Eggs
Chapter 10 – Expanding Horizons
Chapter 11 – A Light Drizzle
Chapter 12 – Wow
Chapter 13 – Seriously?
Chapter 14 – Pouring Rain
Chapter 15 – Good Night, Not Good-Bye
Chapter 16 – The Lost Boy
Chapter 17 – Triangle
Chapter 18 – Date
Chapter 19 – Never Have I Ever
Chapter 20 – Superhero
Chapter 21 – Three Valentines
Chapter 22 – Cursed
Chapter 23 – The Game of Chicken
Chapter 24 – Um… Now What?
Chapter 25 – The Libby Dinner
Chapter 26 – Regrets
Chapter 27 – Pulling Out the Rug
Chapter 28 – Speed Bumps
Chapter 29 – Couples
Chapter 30 – Three Good-byes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Melissa Brown
Chapter 1
GDIs and Proud
Sunny
Freshman year: October, an average Friday night
They say that three’s a crowd. Whatever. There were three of us, and at times it definitely was a crowd. We had more than our share of arguments between us, usually started by petty jealousy and furthered by miscommunication. Yet somehow the three of us made it work. No matter what.
We called ourselves the GDIs, or sometimes the Gamma Delts, GDI standing for “God Damn Independent.” None of us had any intention of pledging a sorority, even though we were attending a university with one of the largest Greek systems in the country, and we each had our own reasons. For me, I’d heard enough horror stories from my older sister and her friends about sorority hazing and catty behavior that I wanted nothing to do with it. So the three of us created our own unofficial sorority—with an incredibly small membership—yet it was all we needed.
We met at summer orientation at the University of Illinois in Champaign. All three of us had last names that started with M, and all three of us had selected Weston Hall, a coed dorm, as our first choice for housing. When we all ended up on the second floor, even though we had different roommates, we knew it was a sign. We were bound to be friends.
First there was Claudia, the beautiful one. We were all good-looking, and all of us got plenty of attention from the opposite sex. Claudia Mansour, however, was different. She was tall and stunning with silky black hair that spilled down her back, and gorgeous olive skin that blessed her with a year-round tan.
No matter where she went, guys were smitten, and not only by her looks. Her attitude said she was indifferent to them, which made her a challenge. Even though she usually had dates on Friday nights, those dates generally ended around eleven, and she made sure the guy was out of the dorm by eleven fifteen. It wasn’t that Claudia was incapable of sustaining a relationship; at least, she said she wasn’t. She told me that life was too fun and exciting to get into a comfortable rut of Chinese take-out and dull Redbox rentals, like so many other girls in the dorms were so eager for once they started dating someone.
I suspected there was more to it, mainly because Claudia never lit up over anyone. She didn’t get that fire in her belly and twinkle in her eye when a good-looking guy asked for her number. She never expressed any interest in guys from her classes who caught her attention. She was just…ambivalent. We’d only known each other a few months, and I was really curious to know what had happened to make her so different from the rest of us. It was like she’d built a suit of armor around her emotions.
Next was Grace, the dependable one who had convinced herself that she’d chosen not to date. In other words, she was the shy one who had some severe trust issues with the opposite sex. Grace McCarrion was pretty, very pretty actually, petite with auburn hair and pale skin, and cute freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. She was extremely self-conscious and wasn’t really comfortable putting herself out there.
Despite her lack of confidence, Grace was the queen of crushes. She had crushes on guys in her classes, guys in the cafeteria, and guys in the business fraternity we were pledging—which was not at all like the Greek fraternities. Those crushes seldom led to dating, and usually turned into some form of drama. Even though her drama was different from Claudia’s or from mine, Grace was entertaining in her own way.
Then there was me, Sunny McCormick, the hopeless romantic of the group who was also a bit dramatic at times. My friends were my world, and I loved spending time with them. Truth be told, I was probably the most jealous of the three of us. I wasn’t very accepting of other friends being drawn into our little circle, and despised overbearing boyfriends who wanted to monopolize our time. Our circle of three simply meant too much to me.
People were always telling me I was cute; they also used words like adorable, spunky, and feisty to describe me, which made me laugh. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a girl of average height with blonde hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks that blushed too easily. The thing I loved most about my appearance was my hair. It was thick and really long and wavy, in a bright blonde shade that matched my name.
I dated pretty frequently. So much, in fact, that Grace made me watch that movie with Hugh Grant, the one with all the weddings where someone called his character a “serial monogamist.” At that point in the movie, she turned my way and placed her finger on her nose, pointing her other hand at me like we were playing Charades. She was right; that was definitely me. I hopped from one relationship to the next while in high school, and had already started a similar pattern at college.
Since arriving in Champaign this semester, I’d dated two guys. The first was Tom, a guy I met in the laundry room of our dorm. As nice as Tom was, he was way too predictable because he was obsessed with routine and precision. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready for a relationship that included designated nights for laundry, taking turns holding the television remote, and routine date nights that always meant dinner at the Olive Garden and a movie at the Cineplex on Seventh Avenue. I was w
ay too young for that kind of monotony.
Looking back, I should have realized how exacting he would be by watching him fold his clothes that first day in the laundry room. He reminded me of that character from the Big Bang Theory, Sheldon Cooper. Tom brought one of those folding boards to the laundry room and made perfect creases in every shirt, in every pair of jeans. I really should have known he wasn’t the guy for me, but was distracted by his bright green eyes and sweet demeanor.
Almost immediately after Tom, I began dating Andy, a hottie who lived on our floor. Our problem was simple: Andy and I were both too busy. He wanted to date me, yet he also wanted to spend every Friday and Saturday night watching sports and having beer-chugging contests with his fraternity brothers, which didn’t leave much time for dating. And I was enjoying girl time so much that I didn’t want to miss anything with Claudia and Grace. We were both terrified of losing our friends, so instead we went our separate ways after only three weeks. Thoughts of what “could have been” with Andy plagued me for a while afterward, and I’d initially hoped we’d get another chance down the road. Luckily, he was pledging a fraternity and had moved into the frat house early in the semester, so I didn’t have to see him after we broke up.
Little did I know what was coming, because neither of those guys compared to Sawyer Holcomb. Not at all.
Grace and Claudia and I were spending that Friday evening at Legends, our favorite campus bar. Claudia had agreed to meet Mark there, a guy from her calculus class. He had been pestering her for a date, and rather than put him off any longer, she suggested he and some of his friends meet us at Legends.
Mark showed up by himself right after we got there, and in no time it was obvious that Claudia was already growing tired of him. In fact, within twenty minutes of our arrival she was scanning the room, looking bored. I was giggling quietly to myself at Claudia when I caught a glimpse of Mark’s friends Sawyer and Austin walking through the door.
My entire body instantly went numb as Sawyer walked confidently over to our table. There was something about him that drew me—his nonchalant swagger, his easygoing smile, the way his eyes brightened when he saw me. The guy was perfect, with intense green eyes that contrasted with his olive skin and dark hair the color of milk chocolate.
The moment he approached our table, my heart began to race. I searched my brain for something witty to say to this beautiful guy standing before me. After all, I wanted to be everything he had never realized he wanted in a girl, and I wanted to be that in a matter of minutes.
“Hey,” he said to me with a friendly smile. “Sawyer.”
“Sunny.” Sure I was blushing, I ducked my head and took a quick sip of my beer.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “What year are you?”
“Freshman.”
He nodded. “Cool.”
“You?” I asked.
“Sophomore.” He cocked his head to the side, then asked, “Major?”
“Business. Corporate training, I think.”
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“You?”
“Poli-sci/pre-law.” He paused. “Child advocacy law, most likely.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. Ambitious.”
“I guess.” He shrugged. “I want to fight for kids. So many of them get lost in the system.”
Getting into the swing of this mock interrogation, I asked, “Do you know where you’ll go to law school?”
He smiled. “Maybe here, actually. One of the best in the Midwest.”
“You sound like a commercial,” I said with a chuckle.
“Sorry. It is, though. One of the best, that is.”
Sawyer seemed almost fascinated with me; his eyes never quite left mine unless Mark asked him a direct question. It was like he was studying my face, trying to place me, trying to figure out why I was important.
Undivided attention like his was something I was not used to, especially at a bar on a quasi fix-up arranged by my friend; my friend who would most likely end up dumping the very guy who had made this evening possible. Poor Mark. But lucky me. I was having the time of my life.
After four beers and two vodka shots, Sawyer offered to walk me home. Excited and nervous, I gladly accepted. Even though I had no intention of sleeping with him, the thought of saying good-bye was extremely unwelcome. No, I wanted to enjoy his company for as long as possible. He made me feel special, interesting even.
We said our good-byes to our friends and left Legends, strolling along the sidewalk in the dark, fallen leaves crunching beneath our feet. The loud music from the bar soon faded behind us and I shivered a little in the cool night air.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me a sideways glance. “You didn’t mention if you were in a house. Are you pledging?”
Uh-oh. Was Sawyer Greek? Would he care that I wasn’t? Greeks on campus stuck together, and it made sense. Fraternity and sorority houses were constantly pairing up for activities and events like football games and parties. They were somewhat insular and cliquish, and tended to date within their group. It was probably only natural. After all, the GDIs tended to stick together in a similar way.
“Um, no,” I said, unwilling to start our relationship with a lie. “And I’m not planning to.”
“Oh.”
“Are you in a frat?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Kappa Sig.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding my head. It might seem trivial to be worried about this; it wasn’t a Shakespearean tragedy or anything. Greeks dated non-Greeks all the time, yet this was a sign that we might not have a lot in common. And that would be a shame. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, I do. The guys are cool. A lot of them are pre-law like me.”
Suddenly intrigued, I asked, “Is it true you guys keep copies of old tests and stuff to share?”
All the girls on my floor who were pledging sororities acted like they’d signed some sort of confidentiality agreement. They had all become incredibly tight-lipped and secretive. I wondered if Sawyer would act that way as well.
He chuckled before saying, “Not sure if I should answer that. Could get me in trouble with the house.”
“Well then, don’t. Wouldn’t want that to happen.”
I only allowed the tiniest bit of sarcasm to slip out because I didn’t want to seem bitter. After all, it wasn’t like I was such a GDI that I resented Greeks. I just didn’t want to be one. There was a difference.
“Okay, fine. Yes, I’m having trouble not fessing up with you. You bring out the honesty in me, I guess.”
Something about what he said rubbed me the wrong way, and I stopped on the sidewalk, resisting the urge to cross my arms in front of my chest. “Do you normally have trouble with honesty?”
He stopped and cocked his head at me, then laughed again. “No, no. That’s, um…that’s really not what I meant. I promise.”
“I get it,” I said and grazed his forearm with my fingers, trying to put him at ease. “It’s fine.”
Sawyer peered at me for a moment, an odd expression on his face. “It’s like you see me. Really see me.”
His brow furrowed before he turned away and began walking in the opposite direction of my dorm. Rather than point out his error, I decided to go with it. At the next block, he did the same thing, even though the lights from the dorms glowed from the other direction.
And then it hit me. There was nothing wrong with Sawyer’s sense of direction. He was simply delaying, avoiding saying good-bye to me.
We walked for another hour, almost in circles, both avoiding the shining light of my dorm as long as we could. When we finally reached Weston Hall’s front doors, he gently took both my hands into his and lifted them to his lips, dropping a light kiss on my cold fingers.
He smiled and said, “Thank you for an incredible night, Sunny.”
“My pleasure,” I breathed out. My heart boomed in my chest as I waited for him to kiss me, but it didn’t happen.
Sawyer hesitated and let out
a little sigh, all while holding my hands in his and fixing his gaze on my mouth. His eyebrows drew together as if he were puzzled, or conflicted. Was it that big of a deal that I didn’t plan to join a sorority? Finally, it became clear that a kiss wasn’t on the agenda when he squeezed my hands one last time and took a step back.
“Well, good night.” Although the expression in his eyes was warm, his expression was pained. Sawyer shoved his hands back in his pockets and turned to walk away.
And me? I was confused. In a daze, I somehow drifted back to my dorm room and to my bed, my head spinning with one thought.
Why didn’t he kiss me?
• • •
By morning, many things had happened. The girls decided to fill me in over eggs and bagels in the cafeteria.
Grace was depressed. Austin had ignored her all night at the bar, and she was convinced it was because of her nose, even though she had a perfectly normal nose. It fit her face beautifully, yet she hated it because she felt it wasn’t perky enough. At times, she would even grab the end of it and laughingly call it “the dipper.”
Grace’s defense mechanism had always been to make fun of herself, but I knew the truth. She hated her appearance, and it was becoming more and more apparent to me each time she slouched in her hooded sweatshirt. It was almost as if she was trying to hide her face from the rest of the world.
Claudia was indifferent. Mark was, as predicted, completely out of the picture and gone from her thoughts. “Nice guy, too clingy,” she said. She was, however, intrigued by “the Sawyer Situation.” Claudia considered anything interesting in our lives as a situation, and loved to refer to them that way. From “the Calculus Situation”—I had been failing for three weeks, to “the Mail Situation”—she had been receiving Teen Beat magazine for four months, a subscription that presumably was meant for the young woman who lived in her room the previous year, yet Claudia was convinced that someone was playing a joke on her. For us, it was easy for something simple to become a “situation” that must be dealt with, or at least discussed on a semi-regular basis.
Sorority of Three: Freshman 101 Page 1
