Page 5 of Sexy Possessed Roommate (Planchette Playboys #1)

“Truer words,” he replied as he moved across the room and pulled open his closet. “But don’t worry. Unlike you, it takes me about five minutes to get showered and ready.”

“Don’t be homophobic,” I teased as I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt.

Stacio pulled off his jersey and dropped it into a clothes hamper as I moved over to my desk and grabbed out a small cosmetics bag. He watched me with great interest as I pulled out a chunky stick of black eyeliner. Using one hand to pull the skin underneath my eye taut, I brought the pencil to my lower lash line. As I looked back into the mirror, it surprised me to see a shirtless Stacio pushing up behind me in the reflection.

“Hey, now,” he began, shooting me a seductive wink as our eyes locked. “Not to be, you know, homophobic , but maybe you should take it easy on that stuff.”

“And why’s that?” I asked with a scowl. As part of the planning process, I had encouraged attendees to dress in a unique style; less Halloween and more so dark fantasy horror crossed with steampunk. While I figured eyeliner would go great with the theme, I admittedly wasn’t a fan of removing it later. As such, I was amenable to any rational suggestion.

“Well, see, I once dated this girl back when I was a freshman, and her eye makeup permanently stained my sheets. Just, uh, worried you’re gonna do the same tonight.”

Something about his confidence in the delivery instantly made the front of my pants way too tight. A tickle reverberated through my groin as I digested his words. My mouth moved, but I couldn’t formulate a response as fast as I’d like. “I—um… Well, that settles that,” I finally managed, resigning to return the pencil back to the bag it came from.

“Heh,” was all Stacio said in response. I felt his warm hands engulf my biceps, sliding down my arms before releasing me. “I’ll be back in a few. Then maybe I can escort you downstairs. You know, if you’ll let me.”

It felt like butterflies—or something more intense, like, I don’t know, hummingbirds—were moving through my stomach. Alert, alert! Straight guy swooning in progress. Protect your heart by protecting your hole , I thought to myself. “Uh,” I hesitated aloud. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Stacio disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my wine, my lube, and my Ouija board. I fell back onto my bed, arms outstretched, and let out a long sigh. “Maybe he’s possessed by a demon like in my dream and that’s why he’s giving me these mixed signals. A gay demon. Yeah. That’s gotta be it,” I jokingly assured myself. What else could be the reason behind why my presumed-straight roommate is suddenly treating me less like a friend he platonically flirts with and more like a potential love interest?

In my experience, these kinds of guys were usually just looking for one thing: a means to get off. My first year in Greek life, I met plenty of them. They’d show an interest in me as a friend, drop in lines like, “Oh, yeah, I’ve got a gay cousin,” then drunkenly skull-fuck me in the back room at a party before ghosting me for all eternity. Sure, it was hot, but hook- up culture isn’t really my thing anymore. And how awkward if Stacio gets weird around me. I wonder if Harlow would let us change rooms in the middle of the semester…

The quiet hum of the built-in sound system downstairs picking up caught my attention. I glanced at my smartwatch to make sure I wasn’t behind schedule. I’m not. Nothing happens for at least an hour. Good. Could go for a quick nap, to be honest.

The vibration of my cellphone was enough for me to put off resting my eyes. I pulled it out of my pocket and reviewed my notifications.

Bridger Sherman

Just got off the phone with my dad. Mentioned the talking board and said it was a big tradition. Something about the brothers using it every year to communicate with the Big Delt Three. A little weird, honestly.

I felt a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow away. Creepy, sure. But in my head, I assumed this was Bridger’s attempt at flaking at the last minute. As I started typing up my response, he sent me another text.

Bridger Sherman

BTW, that’s totally not me trying to give an excuse. I’m still coming.

Crispin Kramer

Good, betch. Maybe that’s why someone stuck the Ouija board into my gift basket.

Dropping my phone to my chest, I massaged my temples and yawned. My phone vibrated again, but I wasn’t sure if I had it in my suddenly sleepy self to check it. Rolling over, I grabbed for it as my eyelids lowered. Already committed to a snooze, it felt like the words jumbled together and didn’t make sense as I stared at my screen.

Bridger Sherman

Dad also filled me in a few of the party traditions. I didn’t realize you were into being tied up, you little kinkster.

Tied up? Kinkster? I wondered, dropping the phone. Let me just reread that after I rest my eyes and… My eyelids slammed shut before I could finish my thought. I felt my body tense up like I was falling, but I quickly relaxed as sleep overtook me.

Click, click, click, click!

A sound —that familiar sound— jolted me from sleep. “Huh?” My eyes adjusted in time to see Stacio holding up two bottles of wine in front of me. They clinked together, making noise not dissimilar to what I swore I just heard.

“Come on, master of events,” Stacio beamed. “Let’s get you downstairs with a glass in your hand.”

“Gah,” I began with a yawn. “Okay, fine. I was just taking a little cat nap.”

“I see how it is,” my roommate chuckled. “Guess sleeping in bed with me isn’t restful enough for you. Noted.”

“No way!” I was caught off guard by how quickly I raised my voice, by how defensive my tone was. “I mean, uh, there’s just been a lot on my plate these past few days. Last night was—well, it was great.”

Stacio seemed bashful. He secured both bottles in one hand before holding out the other to help me up. I accepted it. “Well, the movies kind of sucked, but otherwise I agree,” he replied. “C’mon, Crispy. Let’s go.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as Stacio and I headed out of our suite. When I turned to look back into our room, I noticed the Ouija board was again out on my bed like it had been used. “Wait a second, I?—”

“Little man,” exclaimed Riley as he joined us in the hallway with four of our brothers. “It’s almost show time!”

Stacio pulled our suite door shut before I could even think to question him about the board. Still a little out of it, I could only nod and smile as the men around me cheered and raised their red solo cups high.

“Oh, and Dante’s got some sweet tunes bumping downstairs,” Riley began again. “What do you boys say we get down there and do a quick sweep to make sure everything’s golden before the whole school shows up to party their asses off?”

Hoots, hollers, and howls came from the group as my brothers put their arms around my shoulders and guided me downstairs with them. “Uh, okay,” I bashfully replied.

As we made our way down the fraternity house’s grand staircase, Stacio tugged at my shirt from behind. “Hey, you almost forgot your phone.”

I managed to free myself from the drunken gasp of one of my brothers so that I could search my pockets. “Weird,” I said as I turned to him. He held my cell phone in his hand. “Musta dropped it, I guess.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t checkin’ your texts or anything,” Stacio said sincerely as he handed it over. “Think you just had it open to that.”

“Oh, yeah.” I suddenly remembered Bridger’s last text to me and reread it. “Stacio, do you know anything about any, uh, rituals the Big Delts have for Spirit Week?”

Stacio innocently shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Didn’t realize you were into being tied up…” I said aloud as I reread the text.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK!

There was that fucking noise again. The sound of Grandma Nadine’s last spirit board session. Her distorted face stuck out in my mind.

“Me?” Stacio asked. “Well, I’ve never tried anything like that before, but…”

“Wait a sec.” I looked back at my phone to confirm what I was thinking. The words of the text were different now, blurring and becoming incoherent. “Shit, I’m dreaming,” I realized. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I concentrated as best I could on waking up.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK!

“ H ey, little man. You kinda gotta wake up for this part.”

And wake up I did. The familiar cheers and chants of Riley and my frat brothers surrounded me. Did I just have a psychic moment? I thought to myself, sure that I was about to open my eyes to my brothers storming my room to bring Stacio and I downstairs to the party. It felt like my eyelids weighed one hundred pounds, but I finally pulled them open.

“Whoa! What the fuck is this?”

Like my nightmare the night before, I was in the basement. It was dark, but not as dark as I remembered. A series of disco lights flashed from every corner of the large room. Fog machines churned out a thematic mist that covered the floor while battery-powered candles added some extra ambiance. Dante’s bass shook the ceiling above me while his music played from a nearby speaker. At least two dozen of my frat brothers were gathered in front of me now, each with a drink in their hand and a robe over their shoulders. Their faces blended together, but I could pick out the ones closest to me.

“Mateo!” I shouted, panic evident in my tone. “What’s going on? Wh-why are my hands and feet tied to the wall?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Kramer. It’s not a wall,” Mateo spoke softly as he approached me. Like several of my brothers there, he wore a brown cloak akin to a monk or mysterious cult member. “Don’t tell me no one told you about the Spirit Week tradition.”

The what?! “They didn’t.”

“Little man!” an enthusiastic Riley cheered as he appeared from the crowd. He was quick to pat me on the shoulder. “You remember what we did to Ronnie last year when he was master of events for the Spirit Week party, right?”

My mind was overloaded. I racked my memory searching for some kind of answer. “Uh, I-I… well, no.”

“You dumb ass,” Mateo cursed, smacking Riley in the chest. “Pledges don’t get invited to this part. He probably didn’t even know.”

Riley looked to Mateo, then back to me with wide, apologetic eyes. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Crispin. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Fuck. We usually tie the master of events up on a pentagram, sacrifice a goat, and chant to Satan. We’ll let you go before the real party begins, promise.”

“Holy shit.” I struggled in my bindings. “What!?”

“Just teasing, man. Well, about the goat and chanting, anyway. You see,” continued Riley, his hands on the leather bindings around my wrists, “this is what I was telling you about. I’ve been taking these woodworking classes for fun and thought we’d change things up this year. I made this big, oversized wheel out of some parts from that pirate play the theater department did last semester. The boys painted a nice inverted pentagram on it—you’ll see it when we take you off—and then Ronnie helped me install these leather bindings. Do they hurt?”

Whoa, what? I thought to myself, wriggling in the straps. Sure enough, I felt a shift in my angle as I managed to turn the wooden wheel I was apparently strapped to. “Well, n-no. But I—well, just kind of a jarring thing to wake up to. It’s giving Wheel of Misfortune vibes.”

Mateo patted Riley on the back. “Yeah. It’s fucking dope, dude.”

“You’re not drunk yet, right?” Riley asked me.

I shook my head no.

“All right. Then I’ll give you a couple of spins just before I let you out,” he said with a wink before turning to the growing crowd before us. “Big Delts, can I get your attention real quick?”

Slowly but surely, our brothers began to chant. “Big Delts forever!”

“Hell yeah,” Riley replied, lifting his arms in the air to signal the crowd to calm down and listen. “Big Delts forever, indeed. Look, tonight we’re all gathered here to celebrate the annual Big Delts Spirit Week tradition. As we all know, Spirit Week is about school pride, but in true Big Delt spirit, our party is to commemorate the spooky spirits that live amongst us. Halloween 2.0, if you will.”

“Fuck yeah!” shouted Mateo. “I love ghosts, man!”

“Yes, yes,” Riley nodded, pacing back and forth in front of me. “Tonight’s festivities, however, would not be possible without our amazing master of events. He came to me a shy, self-conscious freshman, and now he’s one of our most beloved Big Delts. Gents, let’s give it up for Crispin Kramer!”

As annoying and jarring as the situation was, it was at least a little heartening to hear Riley say those words. The reaction of my brothers was enough for me to crack a smile. They all cheered and hollered for me.

“We love you, Crispy!” came a random voice from the back.

“We’re your stags for life, brother!” shouted someone else.

“Now,” Riley began again as he pulled a dagger from his robes, “as is tradition for Spirit Week, I created this ritual pentagram to kick off the evening’s festivities. Brothers, what comes next?”

“Blood! Blood! Blood! Blood!”

Holy fuck, I thought to myself. My entire body shook as sweat formed on my forehead. “Riley! Riley, wait! You never said anything about?—”

Riley turned to me, a reassuring look on his face. “Hey, I won’t make you do this since I totally blind-sighted you with it.”

Mateo approached us both, holding out his hand. “Here. Do me.”

Riley studied my face before turning to Mateo. Holding his arm with one hand, he used the other to make a shallow cut in Mateo’s palm. Crimson began to pool in it. “Whether you believe in this spooky shit or not,” Riley began, pushing Mateo’s palm right between my legs and against the wooden slab I was tied to, “I hereby declare that the Big Delts Spirit Week celebration may commence! In honor of our brothers both past and present, let’s party, boys!”

The sounds of celebration were momentarily deafening as Mateo and Riley lifted their arms into the air to rile up the crowd. I swallowed hard, completely shook at what just happened. Wow, I almost pissed myself.

“Hey, man, what the fuck?” Stacio appeared from the crowd, rushing forward with a concerned look on his face. He shoved Mateo out of the way and went straight for my bindings.

“Calm down, Andrade,” Riley chuckled. “You know it’s just part of the tradition.”

“Fuck your traditions, Donovan,” Stacio fumed, freeing my left wrist and moving on to the next clasp. “I told you not to surprise him like this. Did they hurt you, Crispin?!”

“N-no,” I said quietly, impressed at Stacio’s genuine concern as he worked to quickly free me.

“Here,” he spoke again, wrapping his hands around my waist as Mateo leaned over and undid my ankle bindings. “Let’s get you off this raggedy ass pentagram.”

My roommate placed me on the floor and I was swarmed by a cadre of my brothers.

“This party’s gonna be so lit, man. You did the damn thing.”

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, Kramer.”

“The look on your face was so fucking priceless, Crisp. Props to you. You really sold that one.”

Riley found me in the mix, puppy dog eyes already painted on his face. “Hey, Crispin. I’m sorry. When I told you about the pentagram, I thought you kinda knew that we traditionally tie up the master of events and do a little fake ceremony.”

I could tell that Riley was genuine in his apology. Leave it to me to fall victim to another stupid frat tradition. “Well, I… No. But, um, I guess it was a hit?”

“Sure was, tough guy,” Mateo replied from behind me, one hand on my shoulder. “And look at what a beaut she is.”

I allowed Mateo to shift my body just enough to see Riley’s wood shop project. Standing on two wooden posts that resembled the legs and wheels of an old, portable chalkboard, I finally took in the rotating circle with a white inverted pentagram spray-painted onto it that I just was tied to. “Y-yeah,” I stuttered, “and your bloody handprint is the icing on the creepy occult cake.”

Mateo shrugged, taking a sip from a solo cup before wandering into the crowd.

I guess this is what Bridger meant by his text message, I thought to myself as I pulled out my phone and studied it again. Stacio’s big hands covered my screen, gently pushing my phone down so as to draw my attention to him. “You okay, Crispy?”

My always handsome roommate wore a fitted white dress shirt with a ruffled silver design on its chest and shoulders. I noticed his silver skull cufflinks and admired his muscular thighs in his fitted black slacks. His eyebrows were furrowed, his face full of concern. Concern for little old me! I thought to myself. Aw, he’s sweet. “I am now,” I began, “you know, thanks to my knight in shining ruffles.”

The serious look on Stacio’s face started to melt away. “I should’ve known they were gonna go through with this and just told you about it ahead of time.”

I wondered if this was connected to all the other mysterious things plaguing me today. “And is the creepy Ouija board part of this tradition, too, or what?”

“Nothing I know about,” Stacio replied, patting my shoulders. “Guessing it’s just a random brother who thought it’d add to the party theme.”

I let out a big sigh. My lungs burned, reminding me to breathe more instead of being in a constant state of physical anxiety. “All right. Well, at least these fuckers didn’t get blood on my outfit. Then I’d really show ‘em something scary.”

We locked eyes as Stacio chuckled. I could sense us reaching and surpassing the point of normal eye contact, but something about it didn’t feel uncomfortable. I could tell he must be thinking about me. Clearly, I’m thinking about him. I mean, also about how I thought I was gonna be sacrificed to the party gods by my fraternity, but mostly about him.

Riley appeared again with two drinks in his hands, one beer and one wine. He offered them up with a sympathetic look and we took them before deciding to go upstairs.

Now it was time for the party to really begin.