Drew smiles like he's doing me a favour, settling back in his chair the way he does when the discussion's over and he's just waiting for the rest of us to realize it. "Dead serious. You're both talented with design and technology; it's a natural fit."
"I don't need a mentor," Caleb argues. "I'm a junior, not some clueless freshman."
"And I don't have time to babysit," I say flatly. No sugarcoating, no apology in the tone.
"That's exactly the attitude this new system is designed to address," Drew says, his tone making it clear the discussion is over. "You'll both make time. The first mentor-mentee event is the Winter festival next weekend. All pairs are expected to attend at least three hours together."
Caleb and I lock eyes across the room, mutual dismay creating a momentary connection. His expression quickly shifts to a glare, as if this is somehow my fault. Right. Glaring back seems appropriate.
Great. Just great. Not only am I forced to attend mandatory dinners, but now I'm stuck shepherding the sullen rich kid through fraternity bonding exercises.
Drew, seemingly oblivious to the death stares being exchanged, cheerfully moves on to the next topic. "Now, about the Winter carnival..."
As he outlines yet another mandatory event, I realize my carefully structured existence is about to be thoroughly disrupted. All my efforts to maintain distance while still belonging to something, the perfect balance I've cultivated for three years, was gone in one house meeting.
Across the room, Caleb's expression mirrors my own internal horror: his jaw is tight, his shoulders rigid, and he's staring at Drew as if he's just announced we'll be handcuffed together for the semester. His dark slouchy clothes and surprisingly immaculate posture can't hide the way his hands clench in his lap, knuckles going white as he tries to keep it together.
For a brief moment, our eyes meet again, and I see my own frustration reflected back at me. We're both thinking the same thing: this is a disaster of epic proportions. The grumpy computer guy who prefers machines to people, paired with the grumpy pre-law student who treats social interaction like a necessary evil.
Grumpy vs Grumpy… What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 4
Daddy Issues
CALEB
The Delta Psi Omega house is exactly what I expected: loud, chaotic, and filled with too many people trying to talk to me. I've been officially pledging for three weeks now, and it still feels like I'm wearing someone else's skin every time I walk through these doors.
"Hey, Caleb!" Gavin's booming voice carries across the entryway as I try to slip past unnoticed. So much for that plan. "We missed you at breakfast!"
"Had an early class.” It’s a complete fabrication, but there's no reason to slow down for Gavin to trap me into conversation. The truth is, I've been avoiding communal meals as much as possible. Too much forced conversation, too many probing questions from well-meaning frat brothers who can't take a hint.
"Andrew was looking for you.” Gavin follows me to the stairs, not taking the hint. "Something about pledge duties for the week."
Fantastic.More mandatory "bonding" activities. "I'll find him later." I'm already calculating how long I can reasonably hide in my room before someone comes looking for me again.
"He's in the kitchen with Emily," he says helpfully.
Nodding, I continue upstairs, hearing Gavin's cheerful "See you at dinner!" behind me.Fat chance.I've got a design project due tomorrow, so I'll use it as my excuse to work through dinner.
My room, technically a pledge room I'm sharing with a freshman named Jaren, is mercifully empty when I enter. Jaren's a decent roommate, mostly because he's rarely here, preferring to spend his time in the common areas with the other freshmen pledges. His relentless cheerfulness would be annoying if it didn't give me so much alone time.
Dropping my backpack so I can collapse on my bed, I pull my phone from my pocket. Three missed calls from my father. No voicemails, because God forbid Caleb Huntington the Second deign to leave a message. Just the expectation that I'll call back immediately, like one of his staffers.
Maybe. I'll call him later. Or… never. I haven't decided.
A knock at my door interrupts my brooding. Before I can say anything, it swings open to reveal Drew, our seemingly omnipresent frat president.
"There you are," he says, as if we had a scheduled meeting I'm late for. "Been looking for you."
"So I heard." Resigning myself to whatever new brotherhood obligation he's about to bestow upon me, I sit up and wait. "What's up?"
"Emily wants to meet you," he says, which is not at all what I expect. "She's heard all about our newest pledge and says I've been keeping you all to myself."
Drew's girlfriend is something of a legend among Delta Psi members. According to frat lore, they had a dramatic breakup last year, only to reconcile before Halloween. The way the brothers talk about her, you'd think she was a combination of Michelle Obama and Beyoncé.
"I'm kind of busy.” Motioning at my backpack, I try to shake him off till another time. "Design project due tomorrow."
