It’s not too late to bail.
“Don’t even think about it.” Parker claps me on the back, as if reading my mind. “Tonight, we’re celebrating.”
“Fuckin’ right we are,” Smith chimes in.
“Since when do y’all need an excuse to party?” I scoff.
“Since never.” Parker shrugs. “But it sure as hell beats the alternative.”
No kidding. Today’s game was too close for comfort, but we pulled out the W, which means we get to party and Coach will look the other way as long as no one gets arrested. Saturday night is the only time the guys and I can cut loose during football season because Sunday is our day off.
No workouts, no practice, no games.
“One down, eleven to go!” Coop crows, fist bumping a guy who stumbles past in a blue and white Wildcat jersey.
“Don’t get cocky,” Reid warns. “We still have miles to go.”
Not to mention a grueling schedule and a brand-new kicker. Kennedy performed well today, but time will tell how she holds up under the pressure of being thrust into the spotlight.
“Thanks for the reminder, Debbie Downer.” Coop turns his trademark smirk my way and I brace for impact. “You’re starting to sound like Vaughn.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I roll my eyes, but the fact is, if Cooper DeLaurentis wasn’t busting my balls, he wouldn’t be Cooper DeLaurentis.
“One anti-fun mountain man is more than enough in my book.” He slings an arm around Reid’s shoulders, as if oblivious to the oppressive heat that’s got me sweating like a sinner in church. “For the record, if you two grow matching beards, I’m staging an intervention.”
“Uh, oh,” Parker taunts in a sing-song voice. “Someone’s jelly.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Coop gestures to his face, which bears a strong resemblance to the god of thunder. “You think I want to hide this jawline under a fuckin’ bird nest?”
My middle finger shoots up reflexively. “Relax, Princess. One day you’ll hit puberty and then you’ll be able to grow a beard of your own, just like arealman.”
“Screw you. If that thing gets any bigger, it won’t fit through the door.”
“Funny,” I deadpan. “I was going to say the same thing about your head.”
The rest of the guys howl with laughter and I silently curse my new beard.
It’s hot and itchy and I only grew it because they kept ragging on my baby face. Now I’m stuck with it, at least until the jokes cool down. No way am I going to give Coop the pleasure of thinking I couldn’t handle a little shit talk.
I’d never hear the end of it.
Imagine how they’d react if they knew you were a virgin.
A shudder ripples down my spine.
My boys are my home away from home—the family I chose—but that doesn’t mean they won’t give me a hard time.
It’s what brothers do.
“Now this,” Coop says, turning left onto the sidewalk that leads up to the Sig house, “is what I call a party.”
Like every other frat on Greek Row, the Sig Chi celebration has spread outside. Partygoers spill onto the porch and drunk couples dot the lawn, stumbling around as they grope one another in the dark. The music is loud, the vibe chaotic, the inhibitions low.
So, basically my worst nightmare.
The thing is, I get tongue tied around women and all the PDA at these frat parties makes me twitch. Maybe I’m old fashioned or maybe it’s the lack of experience, but shouldn’t intimacy should be…well, intimate? Just the thought of all those probing stares is enough to spike my blood pressure.
Reid’s eyes lock on mine and I turn away.
