Crew was the “fruit pledge.” It started with taking grapes everywhere he went, like they were his baby. Oranges were next, then cucumbers, until he ended with carting a watermelon in a wagon. He drew a smiley face on it. We loved that watermelon. Named him Wally.

Hollis was the “weather pledge.” Every day at 5 AM, he had to get up and do a Snapchat of the forecast. He also had to jump up and down in place for two minutes any time someone on campus asked about the weather. Everyone did.

I laugh. Good times.

The kitchen is dead except for Benji, who’s currently lip-locked with a girl. She’s sitting on the table and he’s between her legs. His shirt is gone; she’s fully dressed. Must have just started.

“Yo. I said, ‘I’m home.’” I toss my backpack and laundry on the floor and it makes a loud thump. My gaze catches on our Greek crest painted on the wall. Black and gold with a lion in the middle, the words loyalty and service etched above it. I brush my fingers over them.

True to yourself.

True to your brothers.

Always.

But I could use a reminder today.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” I muse as I ease around Benji and the girl.

She moans, her hands curling in his blond hair. He murmurs, “Oh, yeah” and kisses her throat.

I cough. “But, you know, I am right here.”

Benji pops an eye open, and I read the laughter in his gaze.

My stomach rumbles. “And I’m going to eat dinner because I’m starving. So, if you want to put on a show, I’m willing. But…” I hold up a finger. “First, you have a room. It’s across the hall from mine. It’s rare for a junior to have a room, and you got that room because I vouched for you. I’m your magical connection.” Another finger goes up. “Second, we have a den. And a basement. And plenty of bathrooms. I really want to eat without your moaning as a soundtrack. Third, must I continue, or will you move your ass to a private location?”

He pulls back from the dazed Delta. Dude is a player, and my best friend besides Crew and Hollis. He gives the girl a quick kiss then taps her nose. “Thanks for agreeing to do my paper. I’ll text you the theme, something about greed and capitalism. Make it sparkle.” He brushes his hand over her cheek and gives her a smile. “You have no idea how much it means to me, babe.”

She simpers. “I can read American Psycho. Anything for you,” she says breathily. “You’ll be my date at the toga party, right?”

“You bet.”

Good God. He’s a genius.

At this point, perhaps I should be considering asking a girl—there are plenty who would jump at the chance—but deep down, I want to do my own work. I have to prove that I can. And I’m not a cheater, no matter what Whitman thinks.

Benji straightens her shirt. “Catch you later?”

“Call me.” She fixes her hair and flounces out the door.

He watches her go, then gives me a victorious smile as he snatches up his shirt and tugs it back over his head. “My paper is going to be awesome. She’s a whiz apparently. Feels good to get that monkey off my back.”

“Do you even like this girl?”

He looks offended. “I’m not that much of a douche.”

I arch a brow. Both of us are notorious for our brief relationships. Easy come, easy go. No one gets their heart trampled and we all move on. My longest relationship (six months) was with Blair. We met at freshman orientation and I fell hard. We were exclusive—until she screwed Dex, one of my pledge brothers, while I was at a bowl game. They were drunk. Supposedly. Not an excuse. Please.

Everyone knew what Dex and Blair did—they were caught in the basement—and it created major havoc in the house. My lips twist. Yeah, probably because I kicked his ass in the front yard. We had a knock-down drag-out. He ended up with two black eyes and a limp. Someone called the cops and Denny and Ken broke it up.

My own friend, the guy who sat next to me at meetings, who ate meals with me, who laughed with me, screwing my girl. It’s the kind of pain you never forget—because you never see it coming. He pulled the blinders off my eyes and showed me exactly the kind of person he was. A cheater. A user. A pretender. I couldn’t let the betrayal go, and because I was the more promising brother, the officers cut him. The truth is, if you want to be part of our frat, loyalty is key.

He left us and joined the Pikes.

So. Yeah. Got stabbed in the back by my friend and had my heart broken freshman year.

I pull a rectangular pan out of the fridge. “Did someone make lasagna over the weekend?” I raise it up to the ceiling like a gift from the gods. “I am fucking starving.” I check out the top of the noodles. “No fuzz—nice. Who made this and how old is it?”

These are important questions. Benji likes to cook but doesn’t know salt from sugar. Parker, our “dinner pledge,” makes some meals but douses everything in spicy sauces and jalapeños. He nearly killed us last month with chili.

I’ve already scooped out the last square and have it in the microwave.

Benji watches me, a glint of something in his gaze that I can’t decipher.

“What?”

He shrugs. “You’re lucky there’s any left.”

“Oh?” I grab the sizzling dish, plop down on a chair, slice off a bite, then moan as it hits my tongue. “Fuck. Parker did not make this. Who?”

“Ana made it Friday while you guys were in Louisiana. Dude, she didn’t even boil the noodles. She soaked them in hot water for like ten minutes, then bam, they were ready to go in the pan. Her sauce was legit too. Not out of a bottle. She brought everything over here and made it. It was fun. I may have talked her ear off, but she can keep up.”

I pause mid-bite. “She made it for Donovan?”

“Nah. He was in Atlanta with his folks. She made it for whoever was around. I love that girl.”

I stiffen as I send him a long look.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’s like a sister.”

I chew. “You’re a horndog. Leave her alone is all I’m saying.”

It’s what I try to do. I never want to be the dude who hits on another brother’s girl. It’s been done to me.

Yeah? What happened today then?

He sits down. “So…the tension in class today. And I’m not talking about the obvious dislike you and Whitman give off. I mean Ana. Things were weird. You were talking outside the door, then you sat together. Want to tell me about it?”

I wipe my face with a napkin. “No. What was up with that woo-woo shit?”

He watches me shovel in more food. A small smile curls his lips. “Oh, let me see. You mean don’t tell her that when your father died and you were in the ICU, he came to you in a vision and told you to ‘wait for Anastasia’? No, wait. He didn’t just say that, he told you three things: take care of your mom, be a good brother, and wait for Anastasia. Do I have it right?”

I toss down my napkin and look over my shoulder to make sure we’re alone. “I told you that when I was slightly intoxicated months ago. I was rambling. You can’t bring it up now.”

He holds up a finger. “First, you were three sheets to the wind. Blitzed. I’ve never seen you that drunk. It was the night Donovan gave her his pin.” Up goes the next finger. “Second, you were as serious as a heart attack.” He holds up a third one. “Also, I’m tired of you being a dick to her. I don’t think anyone else really notices, but I do. You never talk to her. Never look at her. If she walks in, you leave—or grab a girl.”