Page 23

Chapter 23

In The Dead Of Night

CHANCE

T he Gamma Delta Tau house is more luxurious, and definitely cleaner, than the typical frat house you see in college movies.

We already know most of the brothers from our visits to the athletic department this week for our medicals.

Coach also had an informal skate this morning, and we met everyone on the team’s roster. So when we get to the house, we’re welcomed by friendly smiles and a few good natured back slaps.

The afternoon starts on the front lawn, on Greek Row, where each house has a stand. Members of each house are there to meet with anyone who wants more information about the rushing process.

We join to show team spirit, because in reality, we aren’t required to be at the stand. We aren’t even pledges yet, so we don’t have to participate in recruiting new members. But our status as hockey players and legacies pretty much guarantees us an invitation to rush, so there’s no point in talking to the rush chair at the fraternity stand.

By the time the afternoon turns into evening, we move into the house.

“Welcome to all the returning Gamma brothers,” the frat president says. “And to all the legacies and hockey and football team members who are interested in rushing the most prestigious fraternity on this campus.”

Traditionally, Gamma Delta Tau is for students involved in sports, and particularly hockey and football players.

We are introduced to everyone, including some brothers on the swim team and the basketball team. It’s mostly all the D-one teams on our campus, even though hockey and football have the lion share.

“My name,” the president continues. “Is David Fox, and I’m the newly elected president of Gamma Delta Tau. Everyone calls me Dave. I’m a junior this year and I’m a winger in our hockey team. Corey Collins is our social chair, in charge of organizing the best parties on campus. And finally, this here is Tucker Prescott, our new rush chair. Any issues during rush and pledging, Tucker, is your man. Tonight’s event is just for you, and surprise, surprise, tonight isn’t a pre-rush event.”

A choir of surprised gasps follows the president’s revelation.

“Tonight,” David continues. “Is our actual rush night. After last year’s problems with our president, our central chapter decided to keep our recruiting to legacies and to the members of the teams that have traditionally formed the ranks of Gamma Delta Tau. It’s more important than ever to prove our loyalty to each other and to the Gamma organization.”

The room is abuzz with excitement.

This is rush night, which can only mean one thing. “Do you think initiation will be tonight?” I whisper, so that Lev is the only one who can hear me.

He nods. “Yup. I bet they’re going to try to take us by surprise. Let’s keep our eyes open.”

The night begins as your regular pre-rush gathering. We move down to the finished basement and engage in the traditional games. We play pool, darts, beer pong.

Most of us are underage, but that’s part of the loyalty David was talking about; they’ll give us beer and treat us like “brothers,” we will keep that fact between us.

When blankets and pillows are distributed to everyone, and the brothers begin crashing on couches, chairs, and the floor, I know Lev was right. This looks too chill, and when the lights are turned off, I lay there, pretending to sleep, but keeping one eye open.

“Pledge, get up!”

A couple of hours later, a flashlight shines in my face, and several brothers are shouting at us to get up and out.

Some of the other pledges look disoriented, but after Dad’s and Lev’s father’s tales about the way the fraternity operates, my best friend and I are prepared.

“Everyone follow me.” David says. “Not one word, pledges!”

For what, we have no idea, but we follow Dave, Corey, Tucker, and the rest of the Gamma brothers outside.

At first, I think they’re going to cover us in molasses and feathers and then throw us in the pool, or some annoying other prank like that. I should know better than that, though.

Initiation night is supposed to stay shrouded in secrecy. So while Dad didn’t tell me what he had to do to become a Gamma brother, he was clear that the tasks put in front of the pledges were designed to push them to their limits and test their loyalty. He went as far as to hint that some stuff can be questionable and borderline illegal.

There have been instances of pledges being tasked with stealing other teams’ trophies or mascots; or some straight vandalism like egging the Dean’s residence.

I have the feeling that it’s going to be something of that nature when we leave the Gamma property exiting from the backyard.

We walk through Greek Row, and the deserted roads of campus in the dead of night, passing dorms and buildings and heading toward the most remote part of campus.

“I hope they don’t make us do anything at the arena,” I mutter to Lev, who’s walking by my side. “Coach Harrison looks like the kind of motherfucker you don’t want to piss off.”

But we walk past the arena, the athletic center, and the football fields.

“Maybe we’re going hunting,” Lev says, when we walk through a wooded area at the very edge of campus. “Whether we’re the hunters or the prey, that’s the real question.”

I’m starting to think that they’re gonna make us fight. A fraternity running an illegal fight club would be a fucking classic.

My hunch gets stronger when we come out of the woods. We stop in front of a derelict building that looks like some kind of old hangar.

We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. The hangar is surrounded by the woods on three sides. One of the doors leads out on a long, one lane road that looks in such disrepair that I’m betting it hasn’t been used in years.

“It’s definitely some kind of fucked up Fight Club.”

“Shh.” Lev hisses. “If it is, you’re breaking the first rule of Fight Club.”

Dave removed a heavy, rusty chain from one of the hangar’s doors.

I expect to see some kind of circle drawn in chalk on the floor, or even an old boxing ring, or fighting cage. But when a bright light illuminates the inside of the dilapidated building, I can’t believe my fucking eyes.

ZARA

I can’t sleep.

Candace won’t be pleased with how many hopeful Zetas are snoring.

I lay in my pink sleeping bag—I have to give it to Heather. This thing might be so brightly colored that it hurts my eyes, but it’s hella comfortable—willing my mind to stop racing, but it’s pointless.

The more I try to empty my mind of all thoughts, the more thoughts enter my mind.

The types of thoughts I’m having don’t help either. I keep thinking about last night. How it was to be with Lev and Chance. Their naked bodies, sexy and perfect. Their kisses, their hands and mouths all over me. The feeling of them inside me. It hurt like a motherfucker at first, but then it felt so good. And it wasn’t just because of the orgasms they gave me. I liked how close to them the whole experience made me feel.

I flip from my stomach onto my back.

Great. Now I’m not just awake, I’m horny as fuck.

The second my eyes close, I see Ares’s chiseled chest. I remember the way his skin felt under my fingertips, the way his lips felt on mine. God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Come on, I can do this. Close my eyes, imagine a blue, cloudless sky, a calm body of water…

Great. Now I have to pee.

I slip out of my sleeping bag and shiver. That thing is warmer than I would have given it credit for. I slip into Ares’s hoodie and hop out of the room. Luckily, I don’t step on any of the women asleep in their own sleeping bags.

Even in the dark, I manage to find the downstairs bathroom we changed into on the second try, and I take care of business.

I really should go back to the den and try to sleep, but now I’m a little hungry.

The spacious kitchen of the Zeta house is clean and deserted. They have one of those smart fridges that knows everything that’s inside it, including the expiration dates.

I’m tempted to go looking for leftovers from tonight’s finger food, but the fridge lights up the second I touch the handle.

The door is like a giant tablet, and it shows me a selection of food categories. I touch “cooked foods and leftovers,” but I abort the mission when I realize that someone didn’t just go through the trouble of listing the leftovers, but also entered the quantities of each item.

Maybe Candace and the other Zetas wouldn’t mind if I had a late-night snack, but I’d rather not risk it.

Just in case they take offense, I don’t want to do anything that could hurt Heather’s chances of being a Zeta. I know it’s really important to her.

I should really go back to sleep, but I know myself and I’m sure sleep won’t be in the cards for me tonight. Especially since they took our electronics and I can’t even mindlessly scroll on my phone until sleep takes me under.

My feet take me to the patio door that leads out to the Zeta house backyard. Maybe some fresh air will make me feel tired.

California is way warmer than Connecticut at this time of the year; but while the days are mostly sunny and still warm enough to be in summer clothes, nights can be pretty chilly.

I pull the zipper of my hoodie up to my chin and wander around the extensive backyard. There’s a pool, a hot tub, and even a BBQ area. Everything looks modern and well maintained.

Flowers are everywhere, and I’m attracted by the scent of jasmine that comes from the bush that covers the fence separating this property from the neighbors.

I pick one of the small white flowers and inhale its intoxicating scent. My dad used to always pick little flowers like these when I was little and put them in my hair.

The Zeta sisters would probably be unimpressed with me if I plucked too many flowers from their garden, so I know the memory of my childhood will have to be enough.

I hear several male voices coming from the other side of the fence.

Without even thinking, I move a few branches of the fragrant jasmine, and squint to find out who’s out there.

“Everyone follow me.” A tall, lanky guy says. “Not one word, pledges!”

The Zetas’ neighbor is a fraternity. I’m about to step away from the fence when I spot a blond head. Even if Chance didn’t turn partially, I could tell it’s him by the way he walks and carries himself.

Another dead giveaway is the dark-haired guy he whispers to. Lev is just as easy to recognize by the way he moves. He’s also easily identifiable by the dark blue diamond stud in his ear that catches the moonlight and glimmers with his every movement.

I should go back inside and leave them to whatever it is their future frat brothers have planned for them tonight; after all, these fraternities and sororities love to make everything they do into some big secret.

But when Chance and Lev take off, following the frat president and the rest of the Gammas, my feet move of their own accord.

I sneak out of the Zeta house backyard and keep myself hidden behind the gate as not to be seen.

When the last guy runs past me, I take off behind them.

Following them is easy because at this hour on a Thursday night—or Friday morning, if we’re past midnight—campus is a ghost town. This same fact, however, makes staying hidden a little harder, because with no one around, if they really looked behind them, I would stick out like a sore thumb.

I pull the navy blue hood over my head. Like this, my face is disguised and if they looked, they could think I’m just someone out for a late night, or very early morning walk.

Moving quietly is second nature to me, since I used to sneak out of the house to see Cal after Mom was asleep; my skills have remained sharp even after two years away at boarding school.

The guys walk at a rapid pace. Most of them are over six feet tall, so their strides are much longer than mine. I’m only five three. This means that I’m practically running to keep up. I need to remember to thank Sydney for dragging me out running with her every morning last summer.

“Where can they possibly be going?” I wonder when we walk past the hockey arena and the football fields at one end of campus.

When they run through a relatively small wooded area, I debate with myself if I should keep following them. Maybe I should turn around and go back to the Zeta house before someone realizes I’m not in my sleeping bag.

But I keep following them. Mom says I got my stubborn side from Dad. Whatever. I call it determination, and right now I’m determined to find out what a bunch of guys could possibly be doing in the middle of nowhere at night.

I begin questioning my own judgment when the frat president comes to a stop in front of a huge, one story building that has seen better days.

The rusty door is secured by a thick chain that, in contrast, looks brand new.

What can there possibly be in there?

I can’t go inside without being spotted, so I walk around the building, thankful for the light provided by the full moon.

I find a window in the back, but it’s too high for me to be able to see through it. Luck is on my side, though. I spot a wooden crate that looks solid enough for me to climb on it.

Despite all my efforts, however, it’s still too dark to see anything.

I wonder what they could be doing in there. Clandestine poker games? A human sacrifice? This place is creepy and isolated enough that nothing would surprise me.

Just when I think that my curiosity will remain unsatisfied, a bright light shines inside the building. More than one, actually.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I see in there. I knew that whatever they came here to do, it must not have been above board. All this secrecy and the desolate location make that obvious.

Five motorcycles are lined up in the empty hangar style building.

I can’t hear exactly what’s being said in there, but I catch something about this being an initiation task. The pledges will have to race down the abandoned road that must go into the periphery of Star Cove.

There’s some debate about it, but eventually, the bikes and a few wireless lights are dragged outside.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss whatever this is. However, I don’t dare get too close. I observe everything hiding behind the side of the building closest to the makeshift racetrack.

I do my best to stay out of sight and keep my face hidden by my hood. Not only would a girl out here in the woods stick out like a sore thumb, but like Heather noticed earlier, the back of my hoodie says Star Cove Sheriff Department in bold, white letters. I’m pretty sure this is the last thing the Gammas want to see right now.