Page 64 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)
BEN COBALT
“ N ah, man, we don’t allow sophomores to live in the house. Juniors and seniors only. It’s part of the chapter rules for Kappi Phi.” Leif Westergaard, the president, delivers news I already expected to hear when I visit the frat on Friday.
After researching all the MVU frats, the housing rules seem to be standard among every single one. I have closest connections to Kappa, so that’s basically the only reason I choose this frat to test the waters.
I’ve been here for a half hour. Chilling with Leif and another senior (Prescott) in their basement, which has a pungent odor of vodka, dirty gym clothes, and tuna. The last being from a litter of stray cats they rescued on their porch steps and now consider Kappa kittens.
Maybe it’ll be a good thing if I live here.
I can make sure the cats are cared for. Not that they appear neglected.
Water bowls are set out and filled. Two black kittens curl up on mounds of woolen blankets beside a white fridge.
Clearly, they’re being fed if I can’t rid the canned tuna sent from my nostrils.
“How firm are these rules?” I ask while we’re comfortable on their plaid sofa, beers loosely in our grips.
“Pretty firm, man,” Leif says in a casual way that makes me feel like the rules are soft tofu.
“What’s definitely flexible is rush.” I missed rush week, the period where fraternities evaluate potential new members.
“Bid Day has passed, as you know. We already have our new pledges, but we’d love for you to be a Kappa.
You want to join the pledge class, the door is wide open. ”
The power of being a Cobalt.
Just joining the frat isn’t exactly what I want though. I need the seniority perks, and they just want to say a Cobalt is a Kappa. We’d be using each other.
“You all are my first choice,” I say. “I really want to be a Kappa, but I need housing. And if you can’t guarantee me a room for the rest of the semester, then I’ll have to go to Lambda.”
“Boooo!” about four guys holler from the foosball table. “Lambda fucking losers. ”
It feels like the whole fraternity is in the basement right now. Half are glued to a television as the Yankees fight to make the playoffs. The other half are playing foosball for cash and crushing Millers.
“You don’t want to be a Lambda, Ben,” Leif cautions. “They can’t even throw parties at their house anymore.”
Do I even want to ask? I lean back into the plaid cushion. “Why?”
“They hazed a pledge so bad, he ended up with a concussion.”
“I heard it was a coma!” a guy shouts.
“You weren’t even here then, Javi,” Leif retorts with a scrunched face. Looking back at me, he says, “Anyway, it got ugly. Lawsuits, threats of shutting down all the chapters, then they decided to just put some restrictions on Lambda Alpha Lambda.”
“I’m not really interested in the parties,” I admit, but now I’m wondering if Lambda will fucking haze me if I become their pledge.
Of what I’ve heard, the worst thing Kappa Phi Delta has done is make their new members silly string a bronze Thrashers statue in the quad. While only in their underwear.
Tame and relatively harmless.
I’d rather not be waterboarded, pelted with beer cans, or worse, forced to eat meat. Still, I try to show I’m highly considering their rival frat so they’re more afraid to lose me.
Leif rubs his mouth, thinking. “Look, I can’t just give you a room. They’re all taken, and even if someone volunteers to bunk up with you, some of the guys will feel like it’s not fair. You’d already be getting special privileges by joining late.”
“I’m grateful for that,” I express, as a tabby rubs against my ankles. I bend over and scoop up the tiny kitten. She purrs and lets out a satisfactory meow as I nuzzle my knuckle near her ear. “But if there’s any possible way you’d all be okay with it, I’ll join today.”
Leif and Prescott share a look like they’re not ready to let this opportunity slip away. While they’re thinking it over, the kitten scratches at her head. I spread areas of her fur and check for fleas. I’ve done this a bunch whenever Jane would sneak home strays.
No fleas that I can see. I stroke her spine, and she rolls belly-up on my lap for more pets.
“What about the bet?” Prescott asks Leif, which jerks my gaze up to them. “See if he can get in on it.”
I stiffen, especially as he captures the attention of every frat brother in the basement. “Oh dude, the bet,” a curly-haired guy exclaims near the TV.
“Shit, if Ben Cobalt wins the bet, he can be my roommate all semester and the next,” another says.
“Or you can room with me,” Prescott offers.
“Bro will be a fucking legend .”
“No way would he win it. No one associated with Kappa has been able to step foot in the Honors House.”
Honors House? My brain pounds. “What’s the bet?” I ask Leif.
He bows closer, his grin spreading rapidly over his freckled, fair face. The excitement is contagious around the room, infecting everyone but me.
Apprehension threatens to bind my muscles. They’re all crowding closer as Leif tells me, “It’s a ten-year-old bet. First made by the Kappa brothers before us. You haven’t been at MVU long, but the Honors House is a co-ed society full of judgy little pricks.”
“Neeeerds,” someone heckles, followed by laughter.
Yeah, I’m sure the Honors House would call them meatheads right back.
It’s typical stereotyping. Not shocked, not surprised, but I’m stuck on the fact that one of Harriet’s goals is to be accepted into the Honors House.
She’s already sent in her application and taken the entry exam, which she said was easy.
“What does the bet have to do with them?” I ask.
“They’ve refused to let anyone in a frat go inside their building,” Leif says. “It’s literally the nicest house on campus.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” a guy grumbles.
“It’s not like we bar them from our parties,” Prescott explains to me. “Everyone is welcome here.”
I saw that firsthand the week before the semester began. Where the house party was open to all. It’d also been where Harriet was almost thrown into the pool. A Kappa hadn’t been the one about to toss her in, but I’m aware none of them tried to stop it from happening.
“So what’s the bet? First Kappa to spend a night in their building wins?” I guess.
Some laugh. Others shake their head.
“That’s not it,” Leif grins. “First one to sleep with a girl from the Honors House wins.” What the fuck?
I try not to see red while he clarifies, “No one has ever succeeded. Many have tried.” Off my knotted, pissed-off confusion, he adds fast, “You don’t know those girls, Ben.
They’re stuck-up prudes. It’d honestly do them some good by getting laid. ”
The no frat boys allowed rule in the Honors House is starting to make some sense. I can picture this dumb bet being made one drunken, horny night in this very basement ten years ago. I wonder if it started as a joke and gradually took real shape.
“The Honors House president this year, Guy Abernathy, is a pretentious prick ,” Prescott says with boiling irritation. “He acts like he’s better than every person on campus because he what—graduated valedictorian from his private school? Who the fuck cares?”
I mean, he obviously does.
The beef between the Honors House and Kappa is definitely alive and well. Fuck. All I can think about is Harriet.
Leif jumps back in, “Sleep with a girl from the Honors House, Ben, and you win the decade-long Kappa bet. All membership dues paid, a plaque on the wall, and special, just for you, housing as a sophomore.”
I expel a breath through my nose and let the kitten spring off my lap. “How would this even be proven?”
“She has to admit to the Kappa president, which is me”—Leif points to the MVU letters on his sweatshirt—“that she slept with you, and she has to give us the panties she wore before you fucked her.”
“Preferably wet,” someone snickers.
My jaw clenches. This sounds so fucking degrading for the girl. No wonder no one has won the bet in a decade, and honestly, I’m proud of the Honors House girls for not falling for whatever manipulative bullshit tactics these guys have attempted over the years.
I should just leave New York earlier than I planned. It’d ensure nothing else bad happens to my brothers, but the thought flexes every tendon in my neck.
Cutting things this short with Harriet hurts. I haven’t even made it to her birthday. That’s why I’m entertaining joining a frat.
Still, on moral instinct, I tell them, “This isn’t going to work for me.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Leif wonders.
All I picture is her round face, perpetual scowl, and yellowish-blonde hair. “It’s not that…” Is it?
“You’re Ben fucking Cobalt,” Prescott says with the raise of his beer. “I bet half the Honors girls would kill to say they fucked you.”
Leif hoists his bottle too. “If anyone can win this, it’s you, my man.”
“Woooo!” they holler, swigging beers in cheers.
“Just think about it,” Leif smiles, trying to pull one out of me but failing. “We’ll give you the rest of the day. You have my number.”
Of course I do.