Page 6 of Seeds of Friendship (University of Mountain Springs)

I spot two girls setting up near the middle—both cute, both clearly freshmen from the way they've got every possible school supply laid out like they're preparing for war.

“This seat taken?” I ask, gesturing to the spot next to them.

The brunette looks up, gives me a quick assessment, and smiles. “All yours.”

“I'm Freddie,” I offer, settling in.

“Brianna,” she says. “This is Maya.”

Maya gives me a wave, already eyeing me with interest. “You look familiar. Were you at the Sigma Chi party Saturday?”

“Nah, still figuring out the party scene,” I admit. “Just moved in.”

“Which dorm?” Brianna asks, leaning in slightly. Classic first-week freshman conversation—everyone trying to map out the social geography.

“Actually, we got a house. Out on Oak Street.” I can't help the pride that creeps into my voice. “Four bedrooms, full kitchen, living room—pretty sweet gig, honestly.”

Maya's eyes light up. “Wait, like a frat house?”

“No, not exactly—”

Her face falls immediately. “Oh.”

“But it's better than a frat,” I add quickly, sensing the shift. “No stupid rules, no hazing bullshit, just four guys with a massive space perfect for parties.”

They exchange a look I can't quite read.

“Oak Street?” Chloe repeats slowly. “Is that the house with the four losers?”

My stomach drops. “What?”

Maya looks uncomfortable now. “Alpha Pi sent out a thing this morning. Said there's a house on Oak Street with four freshmen who are on their blacklist. Something about one of them messing with Connor Matthews' ex?”

“They said any girl who goes there is basically dead to Greek life,” Brianna adds, suddenly very interested in arranging her pens.

Fuck. Fucking Connor.

“That's—” I start, but what can I say? That Troy did sleep with Rachel but it was complicated? That we're not actually losers, we just forgot to apply for housing?

“Look,” I try again, forcing a confident smile. “I don't know what Connor's telling people, but Alpha Pi doesn't run the entire social scene. Give me your Instagrams. When we throw our first real party, I'll let you know. Then you can decide for yourself if we're worth the drama.”

They hesitate, but freshman curiosity wins. They exchange handles with me, though the enthusiasm from five minutes ago is definitely gone.

“Maybe,” Maya says noncommittally.

Professor Walsh walks in, saving me from further humiliation. But as I pretend to focus on his introduction to “market dynamics,” my mind is racing.

How the fuck are we supposed to have any social life if Alpha Pi has blacklisted us? They might not run everything, but they run enough. And freshman girls especially aren't going to risk their entire social standing for four random guys with a house.

We need to figure this out. Fast.

When class ends, Brianna and Maya pack up quickly, barely acknowledging my “see you around.” I watch them immediately gravitate toward a group that includes guys wearing Alpha Pi letters.

My brain's fried from Professor Walsh droning on about “synergistic market opportunities” for an hour.

I need caffeine. And probably something deep-fried. Or covered in sugar. Or both.

I pull out my phone and shoot a text to our group chat—creatively named “Oak St.”

Me: need coffee and strategy session. Meet at the coffee place in 10?

Me: this is an SOS

Troy: that bad?

Ethan: what coffee place?

Troy: It’s called CC’s, you can’t miss it next to the quad

Me: we're socially fucked

Ethan: on my way. I could eat

Troy: same

Ethan: Alfie?

Alfie: Cannot attend.

Ethan: love you too babe

CC's Coffee is exactly where Troy said it would be—smack in the middle of campus, packed with students who all look way too put-together for a Monday. The smell of coffee and baked goods hits me like a religious experience.

Troy and Ethan are already there, having commandeered a corner table. Ethan's got what looks like three muffins in front of him.

“Stress eating already?” I ask, dropping into a chair.

“Bro, three different girls literally turned and walked away when I said where I lived,” Ethan says through a mouthful of blueberry muffin. “Three. Different. Girls.”

“One girl asked me if I lived in 'the freak house',” Troy adds darkly. “Connor's really doing a number on us.”

I grab Ethan's coffee and take a swig. “Okay, here's the thing. I have one goal at college.”

“Graduate?” Troy suggests.

“No—well, yeah, but mainly to enjoy the company of many lovely females and have a fucking brilliant time partying before real life sets in.”

Ethan nods sagely. “A noble pursuit.”

“And that can't happen if we're the fucking pariah house,” I continue. “We need to fix this shit. The first few weeks set the tone for the entire year. Maybe all four years. Oh god. This could ruin our college experience.”

“But how?” Troy runs his hand through his hair. “I had no idea Connor’s brother was an Alpha Pi. He’s the fuckin’ president of the frat and he’s just as pissed with me. Alpha Pi basically runs the social scene for freshmen. If they say we're off-limits...”

“Then we make being off-limits the coolest fucking thing on campus,” I say.

They both stare at me.

“Hear me out. What do frats have that we don't?”

“Everything?” Ethan suggests. “Money, reputation, a house that doesn't rely on a stolen Einstein poster for decoration?”

“They have rules,” I say. “Pledging, dues, hierarchies, all that structured bullshit. What if we became the anti-frat? The place where you can party without the politics?”

Troy's leaning forward now. “Keep talking.”

“We throw a party. But not just any party—the kind of party that makes Alpha Pi look like a church youth group. No lists, no bullshit about who's cool enough, just a fucking rager that people can't ignore. Project X style.”

“But people won't come—” Ethan starts.

“Then we get creative. Free drinks—and I mean the good stuff, not just warm beer. Real food, not just chips. Music that doesn't suck. Make it so good that people are willing to risk the social suicide.”

“That sounds expensive as fuck,” Troy points out.

“So we invest. Pool our money, do this right. One shot to change the narrative. If it sucks too…I don’t know if we will be able to redeem ourselves.”

Ethan's getting into it now. “We could make it themed. Like, something that sounds too good to miss.”

“No themes,” I say quickly. “Themes are trying too hard. We just make it clear this is the party where anything could happen. The place without rules.”

“The Anti-Frat,” Troy says slowly, testing it out.

“Exactly. We can't beat them at their game, so we change the fucking game.”

“When?” Ethan asks.

“Next week. Enough time to build hype, not enough time for Connor to completely poison everyone against us. It’ll be legendary, guys. People will be asking for years to be invited to our start of the year party. We could set a tradition.”

Troy pulls out his phone, already making notes because, of course, he is. “We'll need alcohol—lots of it. And we can't get caught by campus security.”

“Fake ID, baby.”

“This could actually work,” Troy says, looking up from his phone.

“It has to work,” I correct. “Because, otherwise, we're spending the next four years jerking off alone in our rooms.”

“Alfie would probably prefer that,” Ethan mutters.

“Alfie doesn't have a dick,” I say. “I’ll bet he reproduces asexually through pure contempt.”

Troy snorts coffee out his nose, and Ethan starts choking on his muffin from laughing.

“But seriously,” I continue once they've recovered, “we make this party legendary, or we're fucked. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” Troy repeats, shaking his head. “Just our entire social future hanging in the balance.”

“Exactly.” I steal one of Ethan's muffins. “So we better make it fucking count.”

The thing is, I know we're probably screwed. Four random freshmen against an entire fraternity? It's David and Goliath, except Goliath has better parties and controls the entire social scene.

But what else are we gonna do? Give up? Accept our fate as the losers on Oak Street?

Fuck that.

“So,” Ethan says, “how do we get people to risk social death for our party?”

Now that's the million-dollar question.