“Rules change as the world does. When that was written, it would have been scandalous to have been caught with a boy in your room. Now it’s a common occurrence. There’s no reason it can’t be amended or disregarded entirely.”
Aamee glared at me for another few seconds before I watched her entire body relax. She turned toward our sisters and smoothed a hand down her white blouse before clasping her hands in front of her.
“I would like to remind all of you that any change to our code of conduct needs to be brought to the attention of the dean of student affairs,” she said. “And from there, news of the change will no doubt spread. I can just hear the rumors now. That we’re running some kind of brothel over here. Is that what we want people to think of Zeta Eta Chi? That we’re a bunch of sluts whose bedrooms have revolving doors of men coming and going at will?”
My sisters looked at one another, reluctance all over their faces. Even though sorority girls were often labeled as judgmental bitches, we often were also judged harshly. It was already difficult to overcome the stereotype of being vapid whores, and Aamee was playing right into that fear with her monologue.
“Do we even need to vote on it? Or is it clear where we stand?” Aamee’s voice was smug as the girls looked around at one another as if torn on what to do. But no one called for a vote, and Aamee took that silence as the victory it was.
“I still have the right to appeal your decision,” I said.
Sighing, as if I was a nuisance as insignificant as a fruit fly, Aamee turned to look at me again. “If they appeal my decision, they’ll basically be doing what they’ve all just decided they don’t want—changing the rules to allow boys to sleep over in our rooms. Overruling me shows that they’re okay with me not enforcing the rules, which ultimately makes the rules worthless. I think that’s a slippery slope. Don’t you?”
“You’ve never enforced the rule before. Doing so only with me shows your bias against me.”
“Maybe I just never caught anyone before. Don’t forget, I’ve only been president since Abigail graduated in May. And since no one was around all summer…” Aamee let her words die off. The implication was clear.
She stepped into my space and smiled wolfishly. “You’ll never win against me,” she whispered. “Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?”
Anger coiled in my stomach as if it were a jack-in-the-box. One more turn of the crank would send it shooting outward. And of course, if anyone was going to crank it that last bit, it would be Aamee.
“Or more importantly, haven’t you embarrassed the legacy of your mother enough?” Aamee turned away from me after delivering what she thought was the death blow. “I think we can dismiss this meeting unless anyone has any other issues they’d like to raise.”
When no one said anything, everyone began to get up from their seats.
“Wait!” I called. “I have another motion.”
Aamee looked pissed off as the girls looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat. “The rules allow someone who was previously unqualified to be president to run when that qualification is met if the previously elected president ran unopposed. As a sophomore last year, I wasn’t allowed to run. But now I’m a junior, and therefore eligible. And since no one opposed you, I’m now allowed to do so.”
“That’s not how that rule works,” Aamee argued.
“No? Because that’s what it says. As soon as I became a junior, I was entitled to run.”
“But…” Aamee seemed to flounder for words. “I’ve already begun my presidency.”
“If you’re as fit for the office as you claim, you should win by a landslide.”
Aamee was looking a little pale, but she kept her shoulders square and her head high. “This is ridiculous. You’re creating drama for no reason. None of our sisters will support someone rocking the boat like this.”
I looked at her with determination I didn’t feel. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
Chapter Eleven
D R E W
Rafferty’s wasn’t as packed as I’d ever seen it, but I’d been pouring drinks steadily since my shift started at eight. Our regulars littered the bar, while a few groups gathered around the pool tables and dart boards.
“Drew, how those college classes been treating ya?” Max, one of our regulars, asked. He was a widower who lived a block away and came in for drinks a few times a week. He always took an interest in my life, and I appreciated the man for it.
I picked up his empty glass and wiped down the bar. “Pretty well. I haven’t gotten anything lower than a B yet.”
“Attaboy. My Olive was a schoolteacher. She always wanted to become a professor, but the timing was never right, and then we were out of time.” He paused for a second, his shoulder hunching a bit. “Anyway, good for you for working hard and bettering yourself. I’m damn proud of you.”
A lump formed in my throat. It had been a long time since anyone had said they were proud of me, if it had ever happened at all.
“Thanks, Max.” I cleared my throat. “Want another?”
“I think I’m going to order some food. Maybe just a water and a menu for now.”
“You got it.” I grabbed a menu and poured his water. When I turned to deliver them, I had to blink to make sure I was seeing clearly.
Sophia slid into a chair near Max and plopped her head into the arms she had crossed atop the bar.
Max and I shared a look as I set the items in front of him.
“Well, this is a surprise,” I said to Sophia.
Her only response was to lift her head slightly and thump it back down onto her arms, a motion she repeated a few more times before stopping.
“Rough day?” I rested my own arms on the bar so I could lean closer to her. “Did the meeting not go well?”
She raised her head and looked at me, her expression showing exhaustion. “I messed everything up.”
“Why? We went over your arguments, and they were all good ones.”
“I underestimated Aamee. She had a counterargument for everything.”
“So I guess I won’t be helping you move back into the house this weekend?”
She shook her head miserably. “No. But you can help me launch a winning campaign for president.”
I bolted upright. “You challenged her?” A smile overtook my face. My Sophia had balls of steel. “Good for you.”
She massaged her forehead with her hand. “The only reason I’m doing it is to piss Aamee off. That’s not a good reason to want to be sorority president, but it was the only thing left for me to do.”
“The fact that you feel that way already shows you’re better equipped to have the job than she is.”
“That’s not saying much. A trained seal is better equipped than her.”
“But you’re the only one with the guts to do anything about it,” I argued.
She shook her head and looked depressed as hell. “I’d take it back in a second if my pride would allow it. I don’t have guts.” She sighed heavily. “Would you make sure that goes on my headstone when the stress of this gives me a fatal ulcer? Sophia Mason: Gutless Sorority President.”
I smirked. “See! You’re already giving yourself credit for the win.”
She didn’t return my enthusiasm. “You can add delusional to my headstone. And stop encouraging me. It’s not conducive to sustaining my pity party.”
“Oh, come on. If your big brother won’t encourage you, who will?”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“I didn’t realize this was your sister,” Max interjected, his face brightening.
“She’s not,” I explained. “It’s an inside joke.”
“If jokes weren’t funny, this one would be epic,” Sophia muttered.
Max looked confused but didn’t ask for clarification.
“You want a drink?” I asked her before a realization dawned on me. “Wait, are you even old enough to drink?” Some fake big brother I was. My question did get a smile from her, th
ough, so I guess my ignorance was worth it.
“Yeah, I turned twenty-one in April.”
“Okay. So what’ll it be?” Rafferty’s policy required me to card anyone who looked under thirty, but I wasn’t going to add insult to injury by making it seem as if I didn’t trust her.
“Guess you can’t do a shot with me, huh?” she asked me.
Shaking my head, I said, “Sorry. No can do.” If it had been closer to closing, I could’ve gotten away with it, but if my boss, Sean, saw me hitting the sauce this early in my shift, he’d send me packing.
Sophia looked disappointed, but when she turned her attention to Max, she looked more hopeful. “What about you?”
It took Max a second to realize she’d been talking to him. “Me?”
“Yeah. I don’t like to drink alone.”
Max held up a hand, and it was clear he was going to decline, but then Sophia added a drawn-out “Please.”
He looked at her pouting face for another moment before grumbling, “Ah, what the hell? What are we having?”
“I’m not picky. Whatever you want. It’s on me.” She opened a small purse and pulled out a credit card, which she handed to me. “Keep it open.”
I nodded as I took the card from her and waited for Max to choose a drink.
“You got Sambuca back there?” he asked.
“Chilled and ready to go.”
Sophia clapped her hands. “Yes! Sambuca party.” She wiggled around in her seat, doing some kind of uncoordinated chair dance.
Max chuckled, clearly charmed by her antics. As I moved away to pour their shots, I heard Max ask, “So what is all this about a sorority?”
S O P H I A
The first shot had been a great idea. The second one might have even been as well. But there was no doubt I’d be regretting the third and fourth tomorrow, even with the amount of water Drew kept forcing me to drink.
I had also eaten about half of Max’s fries, so hopefully the grease would soak up some of the alcohol. Did grease do that? My hazy brain wasn’t sure.
“Listen,” Max said. “I’ve never met this Aamee person, but if you will excuse my language, she sounds like a real asshat.”
“Yes,” I replied, relieved that he saw it my way. “She is. She so is.”
“It’s obvious you’re the better choice,” my other new friend Bill added. He’d come in as Max and I were throwing back shot number two and had joined us from there. Then Dave had wandered in at some point after that.
I loved these guys. They were supportive as hell, and I was in desperate need of that.
“Is it obvious?” I asked. “I’m really not sure. It feels like anyone would be a better choice, but are they? It’s not like Aamee is slaughtering virgin pledges or anything.”
“More water,” Drew said, pushing my glass toward me. “Lots more water.”
I rolled my eyes but did as he asked. I’d had so much liquid, it felt like my stomach was about to drown. “Can stomachs drown?” I asked.
“And food,” he added. “Want anything in particular?”
“Justice with a side of revenge.”
“That’s the spirit,” Bill said, sounding proud.
“To eat, Sophia,” said Drew. “What do you want to eat?”
“The entrails of those who wrong me,” I said to a chorus of laughter from my new friends. “But a cheesesteak will do for now.”
“Coming right up.” Drew left to put my order in, and I slumped back on my barstool.
“What kinds of things do you have to do to become president?” Dave asked.
That was a damn good question. “I have no idea. I’ll have to do some research and maybe ask around.” I could ask my mom, but…no. Bad plan. Bad, bad plan.
“How would your mother know?” Bill asked.
Oh, so I’d said that bit aloud. “She was the president of my sorority when she went here.”
“Then why would it be a bad plan to ask her?”
“Because I’m not doing this the conventional way. I’m basically stirring up a shit ton of drama because a girl was mean to me. My mom would not be impressed.” I took another sip of my water. “If, by the end of this year, I told her I wanted to run for next year, she’d be all over it. But basically dethroning someone—do you dethrone presidents?” I shook my head to dismiss the unrelated question before continuing. “Nah, she wouldn’t be a fan.”
“Even if the person you were removing from office wasn’t the right person for the job?” Max asked.
“Well, then I’d have to explain that she wasn’t the right person because she kicked me out of the house for having a boy in my room overnight. My mom would lose her shit. And probably side with Aamee.” That gave me pause. I dropped my head and stared at the way the wood swirled on the bar as I thought about my circumstances.
“Should she side with Aamee?” I asked. Maybe I was wrong. I mean, I knew I was technically wrong according to the rules, but had what I’d done warranted the punishment I’d received? My mom would probably think I deserved what I’d gotten. And while sober me definitely didn’t think that way, drunk me wasn’t so sure.
“No,” Drew said, sliding my cheesesteak in front of me and then propping his hands on the table. “Aamee is abusing her power, Soph. Anyone who sides with her over you in this is flat-out wrong.”
My eyes pricked as tears threatened to spill. Drew was so strong as he stood there. So resolute. There wasn’t an ounce of anything that would indicate he didn’t wholeheartedly believe what he was saying. And Jesus, did I need that kind of confidence right now. If I didn’t feel it myself, maybe I could lean on his until I did. Maybe he could prop us both up until I got my feet under me again.
I’d had a lot of friends in my life. But the warmth I felt staring at this particular friend—one I never would’ve found if it hadn’t been for my dumbass brother—was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
Or maybe it’s the Sambuca. Christ, drunk me was a real downer.
I took a long, deep breath and decided to trust in Drew’s words. “Then I guess we fight for what’s right,” I said.
“Hell yeah,” Dave said, and Max and Bill chimed in with similar words of encouragement.
But I kept my eyes on Drew, who only smiled and nodded. And that was all the encouragement I needed.
Chapter Twelve
D R E W
Even though she was probably only a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, drunk Sophia was surprisingly difficult to maneuver. “Just a little farther,” I grunted as I tried to prop her up with one arm and unlock our door with the other.
“Tonight was so fun,” she practically yelled as she threw her arms back.
“Shh, people are sleeping.”
“This is college. Everyone can sleep when they’re alive. Or…wait…that doesn’t sound right.” She was momentarily still as she contemplated where she’d gone wrong in her statement, which gave me the time I needed to twist the key and push the door open.
I then grabbed her with both arms again and led her inside. It probably would’ve been easier to throw her over my shoulder and carry her that way, but I was worried being upside down would cause her to throw up all over my back. When we arrived at the couch, I let go, and she plopped down onto it.
She immediately spread out as much as she could. “It’s so comfy here. Maybe I should take the couch and give you the bed.”
“I’m ready to switch when you are,” I muttered as I turned on a few lights.
She rolled onto her side and nuzzled her face into the pillow. “It’s like velvet.”
It was more like polyester, but there was little point in arguing.
When she tired of rubbing herself on the pillow like a cat, she moved to her back again and looked up at the ceiling. “I should drink more often. Everything’s so pretty.”
Like a moron, I glanced up at the ceiling to see what she was talking about. It was solid white, like most ceilings. “I bet in the morning you’ll be vowing
to never drink again.”
She threw an arm over her eyes. “Nah, I needed it. And I made friends. I love friends.”
I shook my head and laughed. She was damn cute like this—all loose-lipped and smiley. I also liked how she considered Max and the gang her friends. Granted, she was wasted, but she sounded like she truly valued the men she’d met tonight.
It was easy to look down on guys who spent their free time in a bar, but the truth was, those guys were just looking for people to pass some time with. They weren’t deadbeats but rather dependable men with good hearts, and I liked that Sophia recognized that about them.
I gave myself another second to watch her sprawled out on the couch before I extended a hand in her direction. “Okay, Drunk Spice. Get off my bed and go to yours.”
“I don’t wanna,” she whined.
I reached down and took hold of her hand and gently pulled. “Come on. Up ya go.”
“I’m not a baby,” she grumbled, but she made no move to get up.
“If you don’t get up, I’m going to shave your head while you sleep.”
Her eyes opened slowly. “You don’t have the balls.”
“You really want to test me and find out?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Dude, get up! Or else I’m going to roll you onto the floor and leave you there.”
“Like I’m scared of a floor,” she muttered, swaying upward slightly as if she were attempting the world’s lamest sit-up.
I pulled her hand as she started to drift back down toward the couch and managed to wrangle her to a sitting position.
“Okay, making progress,” I said.
She cut her eyes to me in a withering look before beginning to lie back down. “But I like the velvet couch,” she wailed when I pulled on her hand again.
Had I really thought she was cute a few minutes ago? She was a pain in the fucking ass. I moved my hand down so I was gripping her wrist and gave her one more pull to get her on her feet.
Never Have You Ever (The Love Game Book 1) Page 8
