Page 16

CHAPTER 16

ASHTON

"I'm not interested in friendship or anything else with that backstabber…"

Hearing Marcus talk about me like I'm lower than gum on the bottom of his shoe shouldn't bother me as much as it does. I know he's still angry with me, and he has every right to be. But I can't help it, hearing the hatred in his tone has my lunch sitting in my stomach like a lead weight. I suppose that's what I get for eavesdropping, but I was walking past and heard Marcus laugh. Once I noticed him, I couldn't help but marvel in the way he seemed so relaxed around Professor Harding. That must be his stepdad. I heard the rumors that Marcus only got in here because he had a family member on the faculty. Then the esteemed professor decided to put my name in his mouth and shit talk my family, where anyone could hear.

I'd intended to walk over to the Dean's office and check in, but I'm not in the mood now. I'm too pissed to plaster on a fake smile and schmooze so when he meets my dad for golf this weekend, he'll tell him how great I'm settling in. Not only that, but I don't want to have to explain why I haven't come by the administration offices to get a new room assignment. It wasn't hard to find out that Marcus is staying on the bottom floor of the athletic dorms, which are the cheapest housing available at CVU and only available to athletes. By their second year, most of the athletes move up to a higher floor, with bigger rooms and private bathrooms, or into frat houses. But Marcus has kept his same room since he moved in, according to the intel I got from the resident assistant who helped me move into my temporary room. I'm on the top floor, of course, but it was originally supposed to be a temporary placement while the Alpha Omega Psi house was being renovated over the summer. The rest of my fraternity brothers moved back this week, and I know there's a luxury room waiting for me, with a private chef, cleaners, and a never-ending supply of premium booze. Funny thing, though—I seem to be very comfortable where I am.

Or I was. Now I'm wondering if there's any point in even trying with Marcus? Why can't he just get over it already? We're supposed to be adults, aren't we? Clearly things worked out for him. And if my assumptions are correct, Marcus is probably the student that benefitted from my family's donation. To my knowledge, none of the other players, including the incoming freshmen, are on scholarship. Does he even know that it's my presence here paying his tuition?

I scoff, hating the sound of my own internal monologue. How quickly I returned to my spoiled, entitled roots.

The door to the Alpha Omega Psi house opens before I reach the first step. A younger student, likely a pledge, stands in the entryway wearing an extremely short French maid costume, complete with fishnet stockings and a feather duster in the front pocket of the frilly apron. His nametag says, " Bernice. "

"Sir," the pledge says, and curtsies awkwardly.

Following him inside the house, I notice the dress is so short it's barely covering his ass, his cheeks peeking out the bottom with every step he takes. I shake my head and don't say a word. After three years of frat life, I'm no longer surprised by the antics. I am a little surprised Bernice seems to know who I am, but maybe I shouldn't be. After all, there was a time when I expected people to know who I was, before I moved across the country to somewhere that nobody gave a shit and learned just how very un-special I am.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

"A scotch, please."

Bernice doesn't flinch at me requesting straight liquor in the early afternoon. "Would you like ice?"

"No, thank you. And, uh, make it a double?"

He makes my drink and leads me to a lavish sitting room with a large, ornate fireplace. The amber liquid burns as I swallow half of it down in one gulp, taking a seat in an oversized wingback chair. The leather creaks as I lower myself into the chair. It's a lot more comfortable than the couches in the dorm common room. You'd think they'd consider the needs of athletes in the athletic dorm, but the furniture all seems to be built for average sized people and barely accommodates someone my size. I have to sleep diagonally on the provided queen-sized bed, otherwise my six-foot-ten frame hangs over the end of the bed. And never mind actually using one of the little desks, that's asking for a backache.

"Should I get anyone for you? Master Hearst is out to lunch, but Master Biltman is upstairs in his room. I'll text him and see if he's available to come down."

I stare at him over the rim of my glass and scoff. "Do they really make you call them that?"

Bernice shrugs. I suppose it could be worse. At GSU, they made pledges strip down to their underwear and crawl around on their hands and knees to be used as furniture. The brothers would set their plates or drinks on the pledges backs or rest their feet on them. I even once saw Sebastian, who'd been hazed as a pledge himself, make a pledge clean a spilled drink by licking it from the floor. Naked.

"Ashton James the third , my man!" Preston Biltman, a forward on the CVU basketball team and co-president of the fraternity chapter, greets me with a handshake, pulling me in to cuff my shoulder. "It's about time you came 'round. Your room's been ready for days." He gestures for me to follow him. "I see you've met Bernice. Bernice, be a dear and get Master James a refill, won't you?"

"Please don't call me that. Ashton is fine."

Preston makes a face. "Aww, come on. You're no fun."

"So I've been told."

Whenever I acted unimpressed by frat antics, Sebastian would say I was a spoilsport. After all, I couldn't understand the tradition behind initiation traditions because no one ever dared haze me, not really. As their largest donor and a generational legacy, the version of initiation that I got was having vodka poured down my throat with a funnel and then being blindfolded and told to guess which of the sorority sisters from the ladies’ chapter of Alpha Omega Psi was trying to suck me off. Try being the operative word, since after the second girl couldn't me hard, I stood up and staggered out of the room. I may or may not have said some incredibly offensive things about the quality of the girls' efforts on my way out, then proceeded to puke my guts up all over floor as I was leaving. I'm pretty sure one of my fellow pledges had to clean that up, too.

Joining the fraternity was my compromise with my father when I chose Golden State over Cumberland. Considering it was the only place where I was treated like me and not an over-hyped nobody, it became my safe haven, for better or worse. I never feel more alone than I do when I'm surrounded by ‘people of my caliber,’ as my father would call them.

Preston leads me up two sets of stairs and down a wide hallway. When we get to a large door at the end, he moves to the side with an emphasized gesture as if to say, "ta-da!"

On the door is an ornate, gold-plated plaque, engraved with my name and the words, "Philanthropy Committee" .

"What the hell is this?"

"Uh, well…" His smile falters for the briefest of moments before he collects himself. He'll be a politician like his father. "I know you had some trouble at the GSU chapter, and thought an official title might help ease the transition. You've been a brother for the past three years, but you haven't been here for the younger pledges to properly understand how important you are to this fraternity. All the typical positions were voted on at the end of last year, so this was just my way of welcoming you into the fold. You'll be able to attend all leadership meetings, and it'll look great on your resume. Not that you need it," he says with a laugh.

"Why philanthropy?"

Preston snickers. "We heard you're footing the bill for Coach's pet project to stay on for a free ride. Since you're so into charity, we thought it was fitting." He laughs heartily and thumps me on the back again. I want to thump him on that thin, pointy nose he uses to look down on people with. Of course, he doesn't even notice that I'm not laughing. He just pulls a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and pushes it open for me.

The room is spacious, with a California king bed that almost makes me want to weep. One entire wall is covered in built-in shelves, with a desk in the center that's actually large enough for my tall frame. The room is well lit, with large windows and a sliding glass door that leads to a small balcony, overlooking a stunning view of the surrounding mountainside and castle-like campus. I poke around the room, checking out the large walk-in closet and ensuite bathroom. They're not much larger than what I have at the dorm, but they're much better quality.

"Cleaning and laundry pickup is on Tuesdays. Hearst and I chose the schedule since we're normally gone on Tuesdays for games, but if you don't want the cleaners in your room when you aren't present, just let Archie know. He's the house manager. But just FYI, the housekeepers are all vetted and supervised. Laundry will reappear, clean and pressed, on Wednesday afternoon. Text Archie for anything you need stocked in the kitchen or bar, or anything else you need. We pay him to be discreet, if you know what I mean."

I do know what he means, and once again, I'm questioning if I want to be here. Yeah, the room is nice, and it would be amazing to sleep on a bed I can spread out on, but even all the amenities of living in a house like this, where your every need is anticipated and tended to, don't quite cancel out the negatives. I'm not sure I want to go back to being surrounded by over-privileged, backstabbing assholes and their never-ending supply of booze and designer drugs.

"Hey," Preston says, nudging my arm with the glass Bernice must have dropped off when I was overthinking all the life choices I've made up to now. "Just so you know, everyone is discreet here. If what happened at GSU had happened here, no one would have ever heard a word of it. And there is zero judgement, my friend."

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from losing my shit, I stare down into the liquid, swirling it around in the glass. Crystal, of course. Bile rises in my throat. What am I even doing? Setting the glass on the nearest flat surface, I accept the key that Preston is holding out to me and walk out without saying another word.