Page 3 of Frat Around and Find Out (Peach State Fratbros #1)

Ty

A few yards away, Ryan, my friend and fellow Sigma Alpha, blindfolded and holding in his hand a spoon with an egg on it, walks on his knees toward a table set up for flip cup. I stand in a circle with guys from other frats, waiting for him to tag me so I can continue to the next part of the course.

Not every TaskFrat Challenge is an obstacle course, but they’re the easiest to start the year with. Each frat develops its own challenges, which are voted on by the committee before we organize them to ensure they gradually increase in difficulty throughout.

Lance’s friend Ash isn’t far behind Ryan.

“We’re right on your asses,” Lance says from beside me.

I glare at him, then glance lower, getting a look at his tight cheeks in that G-string.

Since he arrived at the park, I’ve been impressed he hadn’t backed down.

He and his guys could have easily driven off as soon as they realized we set them up to look like fools.

Or he could have gotten out of that car, acting humbled and embarrassed, but instead he held his head high and absorbed all the laughter and mockery.

Lance Fehn has always had a way of impressing me—not that I’ll ever tell him that.

“Like what you see?” Lance teases as he catches me still looking at his ass .

“Thinking I should have found something less flattering on you, is all. I’ve already noticed girls checking that ass out since you got here. Have a feeling you’ll be cleaning up at the afters.”

“The only one I notice checking out my ass is you.”

“I’ve kind of already had you, so…”

Our gazes meet again, both of us surely thinking about our little secret. The thing that must be on his mind as much as it’s on my mind whenever we see each other.

It happened last May, after Lance and I got trashed at an Omega Psi party, which was really our big mistake.

Omega Psi is known for being wild—we’ve had to discipline them for a few of their pranks and for hazing the year before last. They were also fined after their prank against Lance and me, when we woke up the morning after the party, naked and bound together in stretch wrap, facing one another.

Embarrassing as fuck for me since, on top of having a hell of a hangover, Lance thought there was a rock wedged between us.

Only it wasn’t a rock. It was my morning wood. An interesting predicament for our straight asses.

“You didn’t have me, just to be clear,” Lance says.

“I definitely marked you, didn’t I?”

When we were trying to escape our predicament, despite my hard-on, we did our best to navigate the situation. We weren’t careful enough, though, and before either of us knew it, I shot all over the guy.

Lance chuckles, again glancing around, though I’m careful whenever I bring it up not to say anything that would clue anyone in.

“I told you not to,” he insists.

“I told you to stop squirming.”

“I was trying to get out.”

“You got something out, didn’t you?” I say, and his face turns bright red.

I’m so proud of myself for making it that shade.

“I notice it still makes you blush when I bring it up,” I tease, loving every second of it.

Wild because at the time, I thought it would be the thing I’d never live down. But now it’s our fun dirty secret.

A few hollers catch our attention.

A fellow frat takes Ryan’s spoon and egg, and Ryan feels for one of the several Solo cups on the table.

Once he finds one, he downs the drink, then takes extra care setting his cup on the edge of the table, only to miss it entirely during his first attempt at the flip.

Ash is next to hand off his spoon and egg with one of his teammates.

As he feels around for the cups, he inadvertently knocks a few over before settling on one.

Unfortunately, he manages to drink and get his flip in fast, earning cheers from the crowd.

He removes his blindfold and races toward us.

Fuck.

“Hope you enjoy watching this ass running toward victory,” Lance says as Ash tags him.

I grunt, unable to keep from looking at his bouncing ass cheeks as he’s off to the next part of the challenge. My dick shifts in my shorts—I assume because Lance has ignited my competitive streak by heading on before me.

The crowd around flip cup calls out again—Ryan’s successfully landed his flip, removed his blindfold, and is now starting toward me.

“Come on!” I call out to him. “You’re a linebacker for fucking Peach State! Act like it!”

Ryan really throws his weight into it, and I position myself to sprint off because I fully intend to own Lance’s perky ass tonight.

“Come on , Ryan!” And the moment he tags me, I dash off like my life depends on it .

Lance is already at the next obstacle, a wide kiddie pool full of blue Jell-O. He searches through what looks like stuffed condoms.

I grab the letter with my team color from the table: Find the flag in your team’s color and take it to the next station to hand off to your teammate. If you take a decoy from the pool, your team is disqualified.

Not loving that our color is fucking teal.

I hurry into the pool, watching as Lance pulls a ball from a condom and discards it.

“Right on that ass,” I tell him, which earns a quick look before he continues making a mess of himself in the Jell-O, which hasn’t fully congealed.

The noise from the crowd grows as people catch up from farther down the course. Some of them are shouting for me, some for Lance, as we scramble to find our flags. I drop to my knees, hurrying through a few decoys that are annoyingly close in color to teal.

Finally, I find the flag and spring to my feet. Lance must’ve found his at the same time because as I leap up, he appears right next to me, and I inadvertently hit him from the side, knocking him off his feet. He goes tumbling back into the Jell-O.

“Oh fuck,” I say as I catch my balance, then turn to make sure I didn’t hurt him.

On his ass, he props himself up with his hands, emerging from the Jell-O, drenched in blue goo. “Ty Lancaster, you shit!”

I didn’t mean for that to happen, but I have the upper hand, and I’d be a fool not to take advantage. “Sorry, bro,” I tell him before rushing off to hand off my flag to my next teammate, feeling like a bit of a dick, but real good about our lead.

*

“You really killed the challenges tonight,” Jodie, a Phi Lambda, says as she bats her eyes at me, her attention giving me an even bigger ego boost.

As if I need it.

Sigma Alpha is enjoying all the praise. Not just with the game, but our prank, which has set the bar for the rest of the frats for the year. I must admit, part of what makes the challenges so fun is getting to be competitive with Lance.

And now that I’m standing in front of this hot-ass girl I should be making some moves on, I surprise myself because instead, I’m scoping the after-party at Alpha Theta Mu so I can rub our victory in his face some more.

And, of course, apologize to him for what he must think was an intentional trip.

“Who are we looking for?” Jodie asks.

I thought I was being discreet, but clearly, not so much.

“She hot?” Jodie asks, and I see the question in her eyes, the probing, trying to see if she’s got competition, or more importantly, if there’s no competition because I’m that into another girl.

“I’m looking for a he.”

“Oh really? I haven’t heard. But based on what you just said and how you’ve been flirting with me for the past ten minutes, I’m guessing you’re bi?”

“What?” I ask, shocked by her conclusion. Though I shouldn’t be, given how I phrased that. “I meant, I’m looking for Lance Fehn.”

I don’t bother explaining who he is, since he’s active around campus. And it’s clear by her expression she knows whom I’m referring to .

“He’s a friend,” I clarify.

“Oh,” she says with a laugh, sounding relieved, since it means she can continue her pursuit.

And I’m relieved too because I could have blown my chances, and she’s too hot to miss out on.

Fortunately, I keep my cool long enough to link up with her on Instagram before I make my way through the party, toward the DJ booth, where I figured I’d find Lance since he loves DJing for the frats.

He’s chatting with Ash, both still in their G-strings and crop tops.

Doesn’t surprise me about Ash because the guy loves attention. Lance, though, is usually more reserved, but tonight he’s baring those cheeks and abs, his crop top and hair a little wet but not covered in blue goo anymore, so he must’ve taken a shower.

Funny because most of the guys from their team have cleaned up and are fully dressed.

Just like when I saw Lance strutting around in that G-string at the event, I have to hand it to him. The guy has a way of turning around any bad thing.

As his gaze meets mine, his eyes narrowing as he smirks, I find myself getting…excited. I chalk it up to my body associating him with that morning when he accidentally rubbed one out for me, thanks to those asshats at Omega Psi.

“Didn’t bother to change?” I ask in my typical asshole fashion as I approach the DJ table.

“Didn’t see the point. Told you I looked damn good in it.”

He really fucking does.

“Yeah, well, doesn’t look like hitting the gym did you any favors tonight.”

I shouldn’t enjoy teasing Lance Fehn as much as I do, but I can’t help myself, especially when he makes it so goddamn fun.

Even as he stood there, giving me shit for the prank I put him and the Alpha Theta Mu crew through, I knew he was impressed.

As he should have been. Although, he’s right.

I’m gonna have to be ready for whatever he and his frat have in store for Sigma Alpha now, but that’s part of the fun of pranks, right?

“I would say what didn’t do me any favors was when you tripped me into the Jell-O,” he says, quirking a brow. “Low blow, dude.”

“That was an accident.” At his glare, I raise my hands. “Honest on that one. I wouldn’t do you dirty like that.”

He studies my expression as though trying to decide whether he can trust me.