My roommatesand I roll into Sig Chi like the kings of campus amid shouts of “Five and O, baby!” and “Wildcat Nation!”
Fucking right, we do. We stomped Michigan State today, making Waverly the only undefeated team in the Big Ten.
Shit’s getting real.
The hopeful chatter of the talking heads is getting louder. Their predictions of a championship run harder to ignore.
And the pressure?
It’s no joke. Not only because it’s my last shot at a national championship—at a chance to break Waverly’s fifteen-year drought—but because of everything that comes after.
The draft. Graduation. The future.
But mostly the draft. I need to be a first-round pick. The second and third rounds make bank, but the money isn’t guaranteed.
There are no guarantees in life.
Isn’t that the truth?
Our conference is always underrated, and despite a tough schedule and a winning record, the only way to secure a spot in the championship game is to go undefeated. Otherwise, you’re at the mercy of the selection committee.
That’s a problem for another day.
Tonight, we’re celebrating. The music is loud, and the party is in full swing, but with Wildcat pride roaring through town, I doubt campus police will make an appearance.
Unless it’s to congratulate us on kicking ass today.
I bump fists and slap open palms as we weave through the crush of sweaty bodies, making our way to the kitchen at the back of the house.
That’s where Sig Chi keeps the good shit.
Reid, Parker, and Vaughn follow my lead. On the field, Reid is our captain, but on Greek Row, where it’s all about the swagger, I’m in my element. And tonight, my element is all about a good time.
Hell, we deserve to celebrate and enjoy our last season as Wildcats.
Not to mention all the perks that come with it.
“Hey, Cooper.” A curvy blonde squeezes past me in the tight hall, her breasts skimming my chest. “It’s been a while. Find me later?”
I flash Zoe a grin. “I’ll be around.”
“Damn,” Parker says, thumping me on the back. “That’s got to be a record, even for you.” He turns to Reid. “What’s it been? Like two minutes since we walked through the door?”
Reid smirks and shakes his head. “Not even.”
I turn, glancing over my shoulder at Parker. “Just so you know, the record is actually twenty-eight seconds.”
Parker howls with laughter as we shoulder our way into the kitchen and head straight for the fridge.
“What’ll it be, boys?” I open the door, revealing a case of lager, a nearly empty case of German wheat beer, and some bougie shit with a wave on the can.
Reid and Parker opt for the lager and Vaughn, true to form, takes one of the white cans.
I grab a wheat beer for myself and use the bottle opener on the side of the fridge to pop the top. The beer is cold, and it goes down easy as I tip my head back and chug half the bottle.
“You keep that up, and we’ll have to carry you home,” Reid says, giving me a pointed look.
“That was one time.” I cringe at the memory. It was our first big loss of the season freshman year, and I drank myself stupid, passing out on the lawn in front of our dorm. Reid and the others had to drag me up to my room and sneak me past the RA. “I’ve matured since then.”
