Page 12

“Under your leadership, if it even needs to be said.”
“It definitely does. Especially knowing how much it’ll crawl up Lance Fehn’s ass.”
I remember how satisfying it was seeing the Alpha Theta Mu prez getting all worked up as we reached the final challenges last year—how passionate he was, how hard he tried…and then getting to feel sweet victory when Sigma Alpha still slayed.
Ryan grins. “You two are ridiculous about that stuff.”
“We both enjoy a little competition.”
“Alittle?” He angles his head, pumps his brows.
“Okay, maybe more than that,” I admit.
Really, it’s not only about the competition. I enjoy our verbal sparring, the way Lance takes what I give him and serves it right back. Even as annoyed as I was when he found a girl at the party last weekend, I had to hand it to him for how he showed me up and stirred enough jealousy to keep me from being able to focus and land my own fun for the night.
Though…I guess that wasn’t just about the girl he found, but about those weird thoughts I had about him being mine because I marked him. Still not sure what that’s all about. Maybe some primal impulse to dominate my rival. Yeah, that must be it.
“And it’s not like you can judge,” I add. “You do the same when you’re on the football field.”
“Don’t start comparing the silly TaskFrat challenges to football because I will throw down. Now I know you’re just stalling, so lie back down and let’s hammer out this last round. I want to see those pecs peccing.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Down!” he insists, the way I imagine his coaches do whenhe’s slacking.
“I love it when you take charge like that,” I joke, but I lie back on the bench and pump out the next set.
Once we finish up, we hit the showers, then meet back at the lockers. I’ve got my towel around my waist, but Ryan is still drying himself off with his, not giving a fuck about having his dick out, wagging about. He doesn’t really think much about baring it all—here or around the frat—I’m sure because he’s spent plenty of time throughout his life naked in locker rooms.
“Keegan and Jaxon are planning to hit up the gym tomorrow too if you want to meet up,” Ryan says.
Keegan’s our Sigma Alpha bro, a sophomore we took under our wing last year. One of our other frats, Jaxon, has enlisted him to help him put on some more muscle, so they’ve been hitting the gym pretty regularly.
“If you think I’m gonna jump into another day of you drilling me like you did today, you are out of your mind.”
“You can thank me when you’re strutting those gains and landing more girls.”
“No problem in the girl department already, thank you very much.”
“I mean, you’ve seen Lance’s bod now and the way he rushed off with that girl. Careful, or he’s gonna be the one nabbing all the hotties.”
Ryan’s expression is playful, but his words burn at something in me—this threat that has me guarded.
“That is not happening,” I say through my teeth, acknowledging that I’m more worked up by that than I should be.
After we finish up at the gym, I go straight to work to knock out my afternoon shift at Junkie’s Pizza Place. It’s notfar from frat row, and being Friday, it’s hectic, but a good day for tips.
I’m in the zone, really hustling for my tables. I grab two pizzas from the back counter, and as I’m making my way down the hall, the restroom door is flung open and a guy comes storming out, pushing me. The side of my arm slams against the molding that runs along the opposite wall, and the pizzas I’m carrying tumble to the floor.
Fuuuucckkk…
The guy—older, maybe in his forties, in a button-down and tie—glares at me like it’s my fault he ran out of there like a stampeding rhinoceros.
“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps with the sort of attitude that makes me want to step to him, but I remind myself this is fucking work. I’m a goddamn professional.
“Sorry, sir. It was an accident.”
He checks himself over. “You got sauce all over my shirt.”