This is professional. This is damage control. This is definitely not noticing how his hair falls forward when he leans into the screen.
"See here?" Caleb points to one of the photos, leaning close enough that I catch a faint scent of mint. "This is actually Cher with her ex from last year. I just replaced his face with Tyler's. And this one—" he points to another, "—is from a completelydifferent party. Look at the lighting difference when you know what to look for."
"The editing's good work." Might as well admit it. "Too good, actually."
"Thanks, I guess?" His response is dry as a bone.
That almost makes me smile. Almost.Crap, remember what he did to Tyler, you idiot. That this guy created the problem we're now solving.
By the time Jessica from Kappa Beta arrives with news that Cher has been expelled from her sorority, we've assembled an airtight case. The evidence is organized, documented, and ready to be presented to the Dean if necessary.
Tyler and Gavin leave to search for Ethan, while the rest of us clean up the evidence scattered across the living room. Caleb helps silently, the adrenaline from the porch confrontation clearly wearing off. His movements are efficient but mechanical, as if he's retreating into himself.
"So," Drew says once we're finished, "about your pledge status, Caleb."
Caleb visibly tenses. "I helped you with the evidence. We're even."
"Not quite.” Drew is refusing to let him off the hook that easily. "You're still joining Delta Psi. In fact, James here will get you set up with all the information you need."
"What?" we both say.
Drew's smile doesn't waver. "James knows all the pledge requirements, house rules, everything. He can get you up to speed while Tyler and I handle the administration issues."
"I have classes."
I really don't want to spend any more time around this guy.
"And I have work," Caleb adds.
"You'll figure it out," Drew says with the calm certainty of someone used to being obeyed. "Caleb, classes are done fortoday, right? James can show you around the house, get you the basics."
Before either of us can object further, Drew is gone, leaving us in uncomfortable silence.
"I don't need a tour guide," Caleb says stiffly.
"And I don't need to waste my afternoon showing you where we keep the dish soap," I reply. "But Drew's not going to let this go."
He sighs, resignation replacing hostility. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
The tour is perfunctory, tense. I point out rooms with minimal commentary: "Kitchen. Living room. Laundry in the basement. Don't mix colors." He follows silently.
When we reach the upstairs hallway, I wave vaguely. "Bedrooms. You'll be assigned one when you officially move in."
"Move in?" He stops abruptly. "I never agreed to live here."
"It's part of being a pledge."Wait, does he seriously not know?"Wait, did Drew not tell you that?"
"No," Caleb says, looking genuinely distressed. "I can't, my apartment lease?—"
"Talk to Drew. Maybe you can be an exception." Not like his problems are particularly heart-wrenching.An apartment lease. Right. Because that's the real tragedy here, not manipulating photos to destroy someone's relationship. Priorities.
He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face briefly before letting it fall forward again. "This is such bullshit."
For a moment, with his hair pushed back, I get a clear view of his face. He's actually... blast it, he's fucking gorgeous. High cheekbones, full lips, large dark eyes. Then his scowl returns, and the moment passes.
"Welcome to Delta Psi. Where bullshit comes with brotherhood."
He looks at me hard, maybe trying to figure out if I'm making fun of him. I keep my face blank.
