“You three having a good time?”
“Yeah, I told them.”
“Oh…” He sounds disappointed. Scared, even.
“Congratulations!” Amelia says with a broad smile.
Evie narrows one eye and smirks. “Well done, big guy.”
“I’m going to tell everyone at theOmegaparty tonight,” I say with assurance.
Apollo furrows his brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“What do you mean? That’s agreatidea!” Amelia slaps his arm gently. “Go for it, Scout!”
“Yes,” I snap with a hint of challenge in my voice. “What are you going to do? Stop me?”
He reaches down to grab my hand and lets his thumb stroke the back of it. “No, baby. Not at all. But I’m definitelycoming with you. It isn’t safe for you to be by yourself. Not while… It’s just not safe.”
Softening, I smile. “Okay.”
I’m actually looking forward to his firstOmegaparty. It’s the pre-Valentine’s one and our last sorority event before Feral Friday in a few weeks. Showing up with theDeltapresident as my husband? It’ll feel like winning.
And having his love…
I think I already have.
thirty-seven
In a freshly pressed suit,I guide Scout through the doors ofOmegaHouse, my hand firm at her lower back. MyDeltapin gleams against Scout’s white cable-knit sweater. Topping the plaid skirt that she grumbled about wearing. Not thatImade her. No matter what she says.
“It’s just that ifyou’reconstantly in a suit, then I can’t show up in jeans. You understand that, right?”
I shrug. “I think you look beautiful no matter what. So I don’t agree?—”
“But it’s theprinciple. I can’t show up with the president and not look the part.” She almost stumbles over the threshold into the gathering room, but I grip her waist tighter. “Theseheelsare going to be the death of me.”
She doesn’t know it, but tucked in my socks is a pair of flats I found in our closet. In case she wants to change.
“Good,” I murmur. “Then I’ll carry you out. And you didn’t have to wear?—”
With a snap of her gaze at my face, sheprotests, “No, Ihadto wear them.” Something settles in her brain, and she relaxes her shoulders. “Besides, now Ialmostreach your neck.”
I smile as she raises onto her toes and smacks a rubied-lipstick kiss just above my white collar. If I have to get the shirt cleaned again? I don’t mind it. Not this time.
Maybe I won’t.
When we enter, the heat from the crowd blasts both of us. Loitering couples dressed in suits and sparkling dresses stuff the foyer. Hair piled up high. Perfume and cologne hang thick in the air, sweet and suffocating.
Scout scans the crowd. “I’m glad I thought to dress up.”
Refraining from laughing, I just tell her, “That was smart of you.” I let her think it was her brilliant idea. Even pat her head, stroking her long, chocolate locks.
She glances at me like she’s proud of herself. “Want to mingle?”
I grip her hand and place it on my bicep, then wander toward the parlor on the right. Glasses clink, conversations rise and fall, and the temperature rises ten degrees with the number of couples packed inside.
“Oh, Apollo. This is Olivia Cardell?—”
