by Rachel Shane
I peered down at my brother’s application, the one I had helped him fill out. My heart thumped. “What about this one?”
Keane grinned. “I wanted you to be the first to know. We’ve chosen your brother.”
“Really?” The smile on my face wavered. I didn’t want Robby to get the scholarship because of his connection to me. That didn’t seem fair. “Wait. How did you know?”
He nudged me with his shoulder. “Because I know you.” His finger slid over the incriminating details. CNN. Dad losing a job. Sister already in college.
I bit my lip, stifling a twinge in my chest. “But—”
“It’s not because of you,” Keane said. “His application was clearly the best. We’re going to announce it at the Gala. Any way he can come up for it? We’ll pay for flights of course.”
I nodded without thinking, even though this meant one additional person staying in the house. But Robby deserved it. If he’d actually earned it.
“That’s not all,” Keane said, pointing to a dry erase board on the wall where my name sat next to several others. “We want you on the planning committee for both the Gala and Unlock as a whole. Your tip today with the pizza place was amazing.”
My stomach wound up like a fist. I’d played both guys against each other and was reaping the benefits.
He grabbed my hands, squeezing tight. “What do you say? You in?”
My eyes flicked from the scholarship to my name on the board. Apprehension knotted in the base of my throat. “Won’t people find it suspicious that I’m on the committee and my brother’s the first recipient?”
Keane waved it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve got the PR covered. You only signed up after your brother accepted, correct?”
Two seconds after. A bitter flavor sat at the back of my throat. “Yeah.”
His voice deepened. “There you go. It inspired you to join the cause. Nothing wrong with that.” He delivered me his trademark smile and the tension melted from my shoulders. Keane was offering me all good things and I was recoiling because of my own guilt over what happened with Trevor tonight.
Still, I drew in a shaky breath. “When will Robby, uh, get the money?” His down payment to secure his spot at Throckmorton next year was due two and a half weeks, right after the fundraiser battle for the house the school set up.
Keane stiffened and pulled his hands away, turning his back from me. “Let me check.” He rifled through a pile of papers near the front. “Ah, hmm. Maybe a week? Two?”
“Oh.” Sooner than I thought. “Wow. Efficient.” My shoulders relaxed. My brother’s future was secure!
He spun around again, grinning. “So are you on board? I just need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement. Pretty standard. Same one you signed for Key & Lock.” He slipped a packet of papers toward me on the desk. “Feel free to run it by a lawyer or whatever.”
I couldn’t afford a lawyer and a quick skim of the legal jargon seemed legit. Besides, Keane was helping me, I trusted him completely. Key & Lock loved to hold people to their agreements, and I needed to make sure my brother received the money before he lost his spot in the school. I signed the packet.
Keane looked thrilled when he took the pages from my hand, and then slid his fingers between mine. “And now for the last thing I want to show you.”
He pulled me out of the conference and through the house, until we reached the room where we held the rituals. All the candles flickered in the cold darkness. Keane pulled me inside the candle ring, and my stomach instantly clenched at all the memories of rituals in this room. He leaned down to kiss me among the scent of rose, the glow of candles, and the soft music playing in the background. “I missed you,” he whispered against my lips.
I kissed him back with a hard fierceness that left both of us breathless. A fierceness I’d started earlier in a different room with a different guy and couldn’t sate. Heat swarmed through my belly, pulsing at my core. I needed this. Wanted this. Keane paused to nip at my lower lip, but I kissed him with more fervor than before, a desperation taking over me in a way that made me lose all control over my senses.
I backed him into a corner, both of us stumbling past the candles in careless abandon. I pressed him against the wall and kissed harder, his rough beard scraping my cheeks. He let out a soft moan that made my whole body pulse in anticipation of more.
His hands reached up to cup either side of my face, the same way Trevor had done a few hours earlier. Trevor. I froze, pulling back abruptly. I’d stopped things with Trevor when Keane had texted to me and now Trevor’s name was the same sort of reminder that I wasn’t being fair to either of them. I wanted both. I didn’t know which one I wanted more.
“I—I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulled me back to him by tipping his index finger against my chin. “Come here. We can go slowly.” He placed a gentle peck on my forehead.
But the problem was I wanted to go fast. And going fast could lead to a collision of my heart.
I backed away from Keane, my heart throbbing. My libido throbbing. “I can’t. Not until I figure my shit out.”
Keane’s face went hard in league with the bulge in his pants. “Is it Trevor?”
I winced. “No, it’s me.” God, that sounded like such a line even though it was entirely the truth. I didn’t know who I wanted. Or even what. Unlock vs Podcast. Keane vs Trevor. Two futures divulging like a fork in the road while I stood at the apex. I took a deep breath and started over, my heart pounding. He watched me, unsure what I would do, but he let me plant a gentle, delicate kiss on his lips. “I’m going to take you up on your offer,” I said. “To start slow.”
I kissed him one more time, a little harder than gentle.
“So as much as I want to do more right now, I’m going to leave it at that.”
He kissed me back equally as gently. “Slow I can do.” He sighed and interlocked his fingers with mine. “Even though slow means I should probably walk you out. Before we get any good ideas.”
I laughed. “Don’t you mean bad ideas?”
“No, I definitely mean good ones.”
“YOU GUYS GOT THIS?” Bianca asked Harrison, squinting skeptically at the way he positioned a bowl of kale chips on top of the TV, out of anyone’s reach.
“I did manage to steal your house and most of your recruits, so yeah, I got this.” He grinned when Bianca lightly punched him in the shoulder.
“Don’t worry.” Holly grabbed the kale chips and placed them back onto the coffee table. “I’ve got this.”
Bianca and I both wiped our foreheads in mock relief.
The guys—and Holly—decided it would be best if they stayed behind and hosted the recruitment party Ours was throwing tonight. Since Holly had abandoned her old house to join ours, she didn’t feel comfortable spying. Three different kegs of beers waited in the basement along with twenty boxes of wine. Harrison supplemented the funds from the money he made at his internship over winter break and we’d pay him back once we received dues from the new members. In an effort to make our party cooler than the others, we hired a live local band recommended by Trevor and had bowls of food plus free condoms to hand out. Holly would keep the party on track while the boys worked to recruit both guys and cute girls (their words) while the other female members of Ours vetted the girls for their personalities instead. Corey would be the designated driver, chauffeuring party goers from other parties to ours.
And Bianca, Mackenzie, Fallon, and I? We would be spies.
We needed to go around and make sure everything was in control and that the recruitment process would fall into our laps. Not Layla’s. Plus, I needed a strict girl’s night. No Trevor. No Keane. No lips demanding kissing. “Ready, girls?” I asked.
Fallon readjusted her bra for ample cleavage. “Now I am.”
Her boyfriend, Liam, stared in horror. “I changed my mind,” he said. “I want to join Ours. Starting tonight.”
Fallon rolled her eyes at him. “S
orry, babe. Girls only. You stay here and try not to scare off potential members with an impromptu poetry performance.”
“Who doesn’t love a good Slam Poetry session?” He held up his hands in question.
“Everyone,” we all said in unison, our voices deadpan.
The weather had warmed up enough that a cardigan battled the chilly wind rather than several layers, a scarf, hat, gloves, and down parka. The shots of tequila I did before leaving didn’t hurt matters. As we drove to the new fraternity row located in Bumblefuck, NY rather than Throckmorton, we squealed with excitement. Mackenzie’s car zoomed passed herds of freshman hoofing it on the ten minute walk to off-off-off-campus.
On New Fraternity Row, cars packed the street, almost as densely as the crowds of prospective students trekking miles. At Psi Psi, boys sat on the front porch, hands cupped on either side of their mouths, as they hollered at the students, beckoning them over with beers and cat calls. A group of girls glanced at each other before nodding and heading up the steps. The boys looked at each other, then shrugged, obviously deciding to embrace the Ours way. Members before gender. It didn’t matter if you had a vagina or a dick or were transitioning between them, all that mattered was you fit the house and wanted to join. With the lack of the Greek System, houses couldn’t be picky or their ranks would leak out of their doors like a hemorrhage.
We stopped at Beta Chi’s new place first, welcomed by our friends Nate and Dale, former roomies, current roomies-turned-lovers. Nate still looked as stoned as always, his eyes blood-shot, his stare half fixed on us, half roaming in a daze. Except whenever Nate’s blue eyes and Dale’s dark ones locked, it took someone to clear their throat for them to remember other people existed in the world.
“Beer me?” Fallon asked, holding out her empty palms.
“Beer all of us!” Bianca said, a smile etched on her face. There was a time that Nate’s lack of attention on her would have sent her crying for hours. She once had a huge crush on him, but now they are strictly best friends. They even gossiped about their boyfriends over popcorn and rom coms.
“I’m good.” Mackenzie held up her trusty water bottle, her drink of choice.
Nate and Dale shrugged, and then moseyed off to grab red Solo cups overflowing with foamy liquid. The four of us clinked our cups together, soundless except for our giggling, and raised our hands in cheer. “To a successful rush!” I said.
“Which will only be successful if Layla gets the shaft,” Bianca added.
“I thought it was you who was getting the shaft.” Fallon nudged her with her shoulder. “Tonight. In your room. From Harrison.”
Bianca’s face turned red. But then she pursed her lips and shrugged, acknowledging that Fallon’s joke was going to become very very true soon.
“Any interesting members?” Mackenzie asked Dale instead of Nate. Mostly because Nate preferred to stay silent during conversations while Dale actually knew how to move his lips.
“There’s been a few.” Dale lifted his beer to his lips and took a sip. “I got into a good political conversation with a few guys who are in the same major as me. And thankfully, they’re liberals so they get to stay on my good list.”
We all laughed.
“And there was a girl who reminded me of you, Bianca,” Nate said out of nowhere, jutting his chin toward a girl in a low cut top, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She kept glancing Nate’s way and giving him small, flirtatious smiles.
Bianca scoffed. “I never once looked that desperate!”
“You did,” we all said in unison, then burst into laughter.
We spent a few more minutes with Nate and Dale, helping them coax members to their ranks before we enticed those same members to hit up Ours after, sticking our tongues out at the boys in mock battle.
We were just about to head over to the girls at Epsilon Phi Phi for a little pow wow of the herbal variety when the music started. Loud. Abrasive. Electric. There was an ear-splitting squeal of dissonant frequencies mixing before the sound righted itself in harmony. People screamed. Ears were covered. And then when the loud wail of a guitar began, everyone ran outside. Including the sisters of Epsilon Phi Phi. Including Dale and Nate—Nate, who had never walked faster than a slow mope before.
The music continued, drums smashing, guitars whacking, all drowned out by the squeal of a crowd gathering in front of us on the lawn, blocking our view of the street. I followed Bianca as she pushed her way through the crowd, bumping people out of her path with her hips. I clutched the back of her shirt like a line dance at a wedding, forcing my way into her wake. Still, I heard it before I saw it. The booming voice that sent dread welling in my stomach.
“Hello ladies and gentleman! Welcome to the only party that matters!”
Layla’s. Rho Sigma. Trouncing everyone else.
Her words sent a cold, crackling sensation down my spine. I knew my recruitment sneak attack was too good to be true. Too good to officially exclude Layla.
The music started up again, louder and more insistent. Already the crowd was bobbing their heads, their feet shuffling, their bodies ready for whatever was coming. Because Layla already had them in the palm of her hands. My heart thumped wildly. Bianca futilely kept pushing toward the makeshift stage set up in the middle of the road, but it was no use, the crowd was too dense. I could see the top of Layla’s head, standing on some platform of her own creation, and judging by the fact that she was standing the middle of the street, I guessed her stage was the back of a truck bed.
“Oh my God,” a girl in front of us said. “Is that—?”
But her voice was drowned out by the vocals that crooned high above the crowd, eliciting both screams and gasps. The melodic voice was velvety, sultry, and perfect. It was familiar, something I knew like the back of my hand. My stomach took a sharp dive off a cliff. This was Trevor’s voice.
Trevor’s old voice. The one he borrowed from his buddy Connor.
The voice sang the lyrics of Clever Trevor’s most famous song. Or well, their most famous song. But a new voice joined them on stage, rounding out the notes in a small bit of harmonizing with a little bit of an edge. Above the crowd, a figure rose.
The real Trevor.
His appearance was like a spike, nailing me in place. Bianca whipped her head to me, her eyes squinted in confusion.
I mirrored her expression, my hands balling into fists at my sides. What was Trevor doing here, at Layla’s party, after he’d helped secure a local band for my party?
The freshman in front of me hopped up and down in delight, as if they couldn’t believe their luck. But I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. How Layla managed to convert Trevor to her dark side so quickly. The date. The Halloween store almost hook up. It was all just a ploy for Trevor to get ahead, trumped by whatever tactic Layla had promised him instead.
Suddenly I was all elbows and kicks, violently pushing my way through the crowd like a woman escaping a forest of vines in a fairy tale. I squeezed through spaces that couldn’t fit me, not caring who I mowed over in the process. My breath grew ragged, my stomach tightening with each push. And then somehow I was in the front, my mouth flopped open in horror, watching as Trevor strutted across the stage in the exact costume he’d picked out with me at the store, bringing his mic to his lips on only a few notes and winking at the crowd whenever he wasn’t singing.
It was a stage, not a truck bed like I thought, but an actual wooden platform dropped in the middle of the street, wires running from it toward Layla’s house. It hadn’t been here when we’d pulled up, and I imagined Layla watching for me, waiting until I slipped inside one of the houses, and then sending her army of stage hands to build the pedestal of my downfall while I sipped stale beer under the cover of walls.
Trevor’s buddy Connor balanced on a stool in the middle of the stage. Sweat glistened and dripped down his forehead and cheeks, but his eyes squeezed shut as he put his all into every note. He sounded amazing and reminded me of Meatloaf in both appearan
ce and passion.
The crowd was growing excited by the performance, forgiving Trevor for his lies in favor of this new tag team. Video cameras and cell phones captured the event, sure to go viral within seconds, if it hadn’t already. Layla weaved through the crowd, excitedly chatting up girls and handing them info on printed card stock. Bids. Against the rules I’d set forth.
Anger swept through me like a lightning bolt. My hands curled into fists as I abandoned my perch on the edge and stomped up the wooden steps to the stage. Connor didn’t even give me a glance but Trevor paused, dropping the mic to his sides. I expected his face to fall at being caught but instead he winked. I fumed.
I stormed toward him, earning more cheers from the crowd who all listened to our podcast. Who knew our history, whether it was fabricated or not. Who wanted us to be together just as much as I thought I wanted it too. I crossed my arms. “What are you doing?” I hissed.
The smile finally dropped from his lips. He pulled the mic back to his mouth for another note, and I could hear how weak his vocals were compared to Connor. “Performing?” But he said away from the mic, low enough that I had to lean in to hear him over Connor’s wails.
“I can see that. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Trevor sang another note, and then tilted his head at me. “Because you asked me to?” He jutted his chin toward the opposite edge, where Cliff stood, hands outstretched, his mouth turned downward at my appearance on stage. My eyes followed to where Layla stood nearby, grinning and winking at me.
My stomach clenched.
Trevor pulled me off to the side, letting Connor take the next note alone. “I’m confused. Why do you seem pissed?”
I pressed a palm to the space between my eyebrows. “Explain to me what happened.”
Trevor squinted at me, clearly confused by my hot and cold attitude. “You called Cliff to set this up as a charity thing. He thought it was a great idea because he’d recently signed Connor as a client and because this would help me shed my old career by poking fun at it and launching Connor at the same time to show there’s no beef between us. We’ve got people stationed in the crowd filming, ready to post the video on media outlets. Good idea coming up on stage. That will send the blogs in a flurry.”
