He lifts his tablet, presumably to look for my name, then taps on the screen a few times.
“Arms out,” he says, putting the tablet on a stool near the door and picking up a metal detector wand.
I hold out my arms and wait passively as he moves the wand over me. It lights up and beeps obnoxiously when he waves it over my face and my piercings set it off, and then does it again when he passes it over my crotch.
“Undo your coat,” he says, still sounding bored as hell.
I do as he says, then resume holding my arms out so he can finish checking me.
The wand goes off again when he waves it over my crotch, and he lifts the bottom of my shirt to look at my waistband.
“No belt?” he asks, his brow knitting in confusion.
“Nope.” I give him a little smirk-smile. “But I do have some hardware down there. It’s not just on my clothes.”
He stares at me for a few beats, then his eyes widen slightly and his gaze flicks to my crotch. “You mean you have a…”
“Yup.”
He lets out a surprised chuckle and steps back. “Come in.”
The air inside Baxter House is heavy and warm, and I start sweating as soon as I step through the door.
“Coat check is there.” He motions to the right. “Keep to the main floor and stay out of restricted rooms. Follow the rules of the contract and don’t make trouble, or there will be trouble. Got it?”
I nod.
“Enjoy your night,” he says, already looking bored again as he picks up his tablet and sits on the stool.
Pulling off my jacket, I head over to the coat check room, which is just one of the smaller study rooms they’ve converted for the night.
The four guys working the room are obviously freshmen, and by the ridiculous frilly maid hats and aprons they’re wearing over their clothes, they’re serving out some sort of punishment.
Baxter House isn’t one of the four frats, but like all the dorms on campus, it has its own hierarchy with dorm leaders, an admin team, and the rest of the students who live there falling into various levels of importance.
Every dorm on campus is famous for something, and Baxter House is known astheparty house. They also don’t subscribe to the same level of hero worship for the frats that most of the other houses do. It’s not uncommon to find guys from all four of the frats at their events, and there’s an unspoken rule that whatever happens at Baxter House stays there and frat drama is to be left at the door.
“Here,” one of the freshmen says, handing me a bright blue ticket.
“Thanks.” I take it from him and slip it in my pocket.
The guy next to him rakes his eyes up and down my body, not so subtly checking me out. I shoot him a smirk when his eyes finally reach my face, and he flushes bright pink.
Just because I can, I give him a little wink when he continues to stare at me with wide eyes.
“Enjoy the party,” he stammers, his cheeks flaming red with a blush as he finally looks away and drops his gaze to the table in front of him.
The guy on his other side snickers at his friend’s obvious discomfort and elbows him in the side.
I flash them a smile. “I plan to.”
I can hear their whispers as I leave the coat check room, but I don’t bother trying to make out what they’re saying. I’m used to people talking about me behind my back, and they’re probably just ribbing their friend for being so obvious when he checked me out.
The party has only been going on for about thirty minutes, so the hall is relatively quiet as I walk toward the center of the building.
Baxter House has the same general setup as every other dorm, with common areas on the main floor and private rooms on the upper ones. The only notable difference is that they don’t have a center entrance and only have two, one on each side of the building.
Just like their previous parties, several of the rooms closest to the entrance have been blocked off while the main lounges in the center of the floor have been turned into various party rooms.
