Page 23 of Give In

“Are those two doing it up?” I whispered to Brooks, tilting my head toward the couple who seemed to be going at it against a tree.

He didn’t bother looking over as he laughed. “Probably. Pre-gaming started around three.” His laughter cut off as he quickly added, “Not me. I wouldn’t drink before picking you up.”

Smiling, I gave his hand a squeeze. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Our pledges have to DD parties, but if you don’t feel comfortable with that, I’ll stay sober.”

“No, that’s cool.”

Especially since I have money for an Uber, just in case.

His smile grew into a grin. “Let’s grab you a drink then.”

Walking into the house was like strolling into the belly of an unknown beast. Music and conversation thrummed at equal volumes. There was a buzz of something in the air. A high that was beyond the one of normality I’d been chasing.

It was excitement and energy and lust and hormones and limitless possibilities.

Freedom.

“Everyone brings an assortment, so I’m not sure what’s in the coolers beyond PBR and Natty Ice.”

I grimaced.

He chuckled. “We’ve got a keg in the kitchen.” My face must’ve said it all for me again because his chuckle grew louder. “Keg it is.”

Releasing my hand, he wrapped his arm around me and guided me through the crush of people to the kitchen. He stopped us near the group of guys who’d taken position around the keg. “Eden, these are some of my brothers.”

I gave a little wave. “Hey, how’s it going?”

One of them lifted his chin. “You’re in my Internal Relations class, right? With Ms. Capti?”

It took me a second to place him.

His name is something odd.

Presidential.

Ford?

Carter?

Hoover?

“Nixon, right?” I asked.

“Nooo,” a drunk kid slurred. “In the house, he’s Yuppy.”

“That’s his fraternity nickname,” Brooks whispered to me.

I looked at him in disbelief. “Really?”

Nixon was the antithesis of a yuppy. Tall and built, his hair was cut close to his head, tattoos covered his arms, and his motorcycle boots were scuffed and worn.

At Brooks’ nod, I asked, “What’s your nickname?”

“Babblin’,” he muttered.

“Like babbling brook?”