The English Year - 40. The Waiting Game

My jaw dropped at the surprise that awaited me when I opened the door to my bedroom. It was altogether unexpected, glorious, and amazing.

Lying there in my bed, jolting me out of my back and forth state of ‘should I or shouldn’t I call Pete first’ was David, shirt off, tight black Calvin Kleins clinging to his beautiful bulge. His hands were interlocked behind his head, presenting his entire body to me like a gift. He had a devilish smile across his face, and his eyes intensified in a sexy and horny gaze as soon as I stepped into the room.

“Welcome home, big,” he said, his voice low and even. I took a deep breath. At that moment, Pete was a million miles away. He was an afterthought. I dropped my bookbag down on the couch as I took a step into the room, closed and locked my door, and made eye contact with David.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” I smiled. “How long have you been here?”

“The seniors wanted Lee, Brandon, and I to have lunch with them, so I snuck up here after. I figured you’d have to be home sometime before the Chapter meeting tonight.”

“You don’t have class?” I asked, peeling off my shirt and inching my way towards the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and in my haste to match David’s nakedness, almost hit Mister. I watched my cat scurry under the bed as if he knew, and didn’t want to see what was about to happen.

“Only morning classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” David cooed, watching me strip.

“Same here,” I replied. I’d finally made it to the edge of the bed. “That could come in handy.”

David smiled up at me, sat up and reached for my belt buckle. I ran my hand through his hair and down to his neck.

That afternoon began what I can only describe as a beautiful pattern. David undid my pants as I stood there, legs spread, clothes dropping to the ground. I stepped out of my jeans, as he fished my dick out of my boxer briefs. I let out a soft moan as he gave me squeeze, looked up at me for approval, and then encircled my cock with his warm, wet mouth.

I pulled David in closer, and with only a little bit of struggle, he swallowed my dick down to the base. My trimmed pubes tickled his nose and my full balls grazed his chin, as I rolled my head back and enjoyed the attention.

David’s and my sexual energy was mutual and balanced. He’d taken charge the first couple times we’d hooked up. I’d serviced him, served him, if you will. I’d let him take the lead and direct our performance.

This time around, he submitted to me. I pulled his head back and forth, up and down on my impossibly hard shaft. He allowed me to take control of his head and pump things up and down at my own pace, the way I wanted them.

It was so fucking hot watching the freshman swallow me whole, eagerly trying to please me. I decided we had enough time before chapter to take this to the next level, and so I slowly pulled away from David and stepped out of my underwear. I was completely naked, and so I reached down to pull him out of his briefs as well.

“Are these mine, David?” I recognized the waistband, and didn’t remember him wearing Calvins the first time we hooked up. It was pretty much all I wore, so I figured it was worth inquiring.

“I thought I’d try them on,” he replied. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I thought for a second, trying to decide if I did mind or not. Something about him in my underwear was sexy as fuck. He was sexy as fuck, so maybe that made me more okay with it. Still, something about him feeling so comfortable in my clothes felt off to me.

I didn’t have much time to consider it, as there was only one thing at hand that I wanted. I wrapped my fingers around David’s shaft, still clad in my Calvins, and squeezed. He let out a moan at my grip. I lowered my face to kiss him as I felt inside the waistband for the only thing on my mind at that moment.

David pulled my head into his with his strong hand. I pulled away when I felt him. I was in control, and I wanted to make that clear from the outset.

I stood back up, pulled his underwear off, and gently began to tug at his cock while he moaned softly. I used his own pre-cum to slick up his dick, and watched the shiny member glow and throb in my grip. Before long, I walked over to my drawer, pulled out a condom and returned to where David had sat up, getting ready for what was next.

“I didn’t say get up,” I smiled. “Lay back down.”

“Yessir,” he whispered, barely audible. I could tell this freshman was excited beyond belief. I didn’t know the extent of his sexual history, but I couldn’t imagine he’d had too many encounters with an older co-ed, simultaneously being in charge and yet allowing him to exert dominance.

I walked the fine line of sexual balance with David as I straddled him, felt for his dick, and guided myself down on top of him.

I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday. Watching his reaction to me slipping down onto him to the very base was priceless. His eyes rolled back, his grip on my hips tightened, and the moan he let out filled my room with nothing but sheer pleasure.

But I couldn’t let him forget I was still in charge, so I pulled his hands off my hips and forced them behind his head.

“Let me,” I whispered, pulling my entire body away from him, and then slowly easing back down again. Another eye roll. Another priceless reaction.

And that’s how it would be, I thought. The convenience of having a little brother I could fuck when our schedules aligned. Pumping up and down on top of him, I thought about how easy this was.

There weren't the mind games there were with Lee. The power plays, the internal struggles, the Jedi mind tricks that bordered on sadistic.

There wasn’t the underlying level of shame there had been with Mike, wondering when the other shoe would drop and if he would ever go back to his straight self, using me as nothing more than a come rag.

There wasn’t the ‘is he or isn’t he’ games that had turned me around with Pete, making our relationship, or lack thereof, more complicated than it needed to be. More complicated than I could bear.

Comparing all of those guys against the ease of riding David like a cowboy made fucking him that much more fun. It was easy. David was easy, and I was that much more at ease because of it.

As my pace quickened, I hunched my back over and gave David a deep, tongue throating kiss. He tried to move his hands back onto my body again, and again, I pushed them back behind his head. This time I held on to them, sat back up, and began to buck at a much quicker pace. I built the intensity of my grinding to match the quickening of David’s thrusts. Every time he sped up, I did the same to remind him that he wasn’t in total control. I wanted him to know that in our partnership, we could both dominate and submit at the same time. It was important to me he understood that.

“Corbin, fuck,” he exhaled. “I’m gonna come if you keep… fuck.”

Our eyes met. I didn’t relent. I bucked up and down a few more times, and then I felt David let loose, deep into the condom that was buried inside of me to the hilt. I leaned back, squeezed, milking him for all he was worth, and a second later, let rope after rope of my own come wash over his tight freshman abs.

I could get used to that kind of afternoon treatment, I decided as I panted, watching David come back down to earth. Our breathing was in sync, returning to normal. I let go of his hands, and immediately plopped down to his side. David was spent, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride from getting this beautiful young stud off.

I dismounted, and pulled on my briefs. David climbed off my bed, discarded the spent condom in the waste basket by my desk, and pulled on his sweat pants without putting my underwear back on. I wondered if I’d scared him into not wearing them anymore.

“Are you still waiting?” David asked as I pulled my long sleeve henley on over my head.

“Huh?” I shook my hair out and turned to look at him. “Waiting for what?”

“You said there was another guy. You still waiting for him to decide?”

It took me a second to remember mine and David’s conversation from a few nights before.

“Oh, that guy. Um, actually, yeah I am.” I sat down on the bed and watched David finish wiping my cum off his chest with a piece of tissue from my desk.

“Can I ask you something, then?” I nodded. “What’s his deal? And why is he taking so long?”

“I mean, it’s only been a couple of days,” I replied.

“And in that couple of days, look what you and I have managed to accomplish?” I didn’t respond. “I’m just saying. If he’s willing to miss out on you so he can think things over, maybe he’s not the best option.”

The words rang in my ear.

Should I call, or should I wait?

“Are you the best option?” I took the chance and asked David the question. There hadn’t been a single piece of me that thought I’d go into a relationship with David. Besides the fact he was my little, he was in my fraternity, and that would complicate things enough. I enjoyed him, but he was young. He reminded me of me, and the idea of dating a version of myself did not seem like the best idea.

But still, I asked anyway. It was fun to muse. I watched David pull on his shirt and then sit down next to me.

“Maybe,” he smiled. He pulled his head towards me and gave me a quick kiss. “Probably not though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You want the truth or the easy answer?” I tilted my head indicating it was okay for David to press on. “I don’t think you like guys for who they are, Corbin. I think you like guys for the complications and the drama of what they bring. I’m too easy for you to date.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, surprised that he’d actually said those words. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard them, but to hear them out loud from someone a couple years younger than me, wise beyond those years, I decided, was jarring.

I stood up. I wasn’t offended, but I was caught off guard. It was the Nick conversation all over again in my mind, and in saying it, David had taken some of that ease away.

“You’d be pretty complicated to date, David,” I replied, crossing over to my couch, picking up my cat, and settling in away from him. “You’re in my frat. You’re my little. That’s basically incest.”

“I could always quit,” he smiled. I turned my head and let out a laugh.

“Look, you aren’t wrong, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. We could have a lot of fun.”

“But this other guy.”

“It’s not all about that,” I replied.

“But it is somewhat about that,” David wasn’t ready to let it go. “What’s so good about him?”

“Why are you asking me all of this?” I was suddenly feeling kind of agitated. I had just spent the last thirty minutes forgetting about Pete, and here David was bringing him up like some kind of shrink. What had started as amusing was growing tiresome at a very fast pace.

“Believe it or not, Corbin, I want to get to know you,” he said. He stood up and made himself comfortable at the other end of my couch. “You fascinate me. I want to know what fascinates you.”

“Okay,” I replied after a long beat. “I’ll play.”

David’s question wasn’t coming from a place of jealousy, and so it made it easier for me to give in. He sounded genuinely interested, and even though he wanted to talk to me about another guy minutes after spilling his seed deep inside of me, I believed that his intentions were as pure as he was. I was annoyed at having to pick this scab, but David was so straight forward and earnest, I couldn’t stay annoyed for long.

“This guy is very attractive,” I began.

“Naturally,” David replied. “I don’t see you with anyone who isn’t super hot.”

I didn’t see myself as next level hot, so his reaction to that made me tilt my head for a second.

“When it’s just he and I,” I continued. “He’s very kind and sweet. He’s protective of me. I feel like he wants me to be happy and safe and cared for.”

“That makes sense,” David replied.

“You want to know the truth, David?” He nodded. “He challenges me. He challenges all of the things that make me less than perfect. He wants me to be better.”

I felt myself answering from my heart and not my head.

“Is he trying to change you? Make you into someone that you’re not?” David reached out and took Mister from my arms. Mister immediately settled in on his chest and made himself comfortable.

“I don’t think so. It’s more like… I’m used to people letting my shit slide. I’m used to people bending to my will. I’m used to guys accommodating me because of who I am or what I bring to the table. The events and parties and name recognition, I guess. I’m used to guys dating ‘Corbin Crowley’, you know? I feel like this guy has stepped out of that and sees a different layer of me. And when I go back to being ‘Corbin Crowley’, he calls me on it. And that challenges me to be more than that. I don’t know. I’m not making any sense.”

“You’re making perfect sense. It’s like I said, complications drive you.” I started to respond, but David sat up and continued. “Here’s the funny thing I’ve noticed. You’re complicated enough for an entire relationship yourself. You’re more than this ‘Corbin Crowley’ persona you run around with, and yeah this guy sees past that. But a lot of people see past that. My guess is this guy gives you both. He gives you everything. The awe and the reality. I bet it’s hard to find someone who sees you for both.”

Everything David said made perfect sense. My brothers in the house weren’t ones to be caught under the Corbin Crowley spell, and in a way that’s why I loved them. I could put my guard down and enjoy their brotherhood.

Guys like Nick only saw me for that public persona, and that was fun for what it was, but it wasn’t a full existence.

Pete straddled the line and saw me for both. And our conversation in the health center made it clear he wanted balance. He wanted me, the best version of me. He also wanted his own space within that relationship.

And yet sitting there with David as he picked me part layer for layer like an onion, I couldn’t help but wonder if David saw me for both of those personalities as well. And if he did, what did he want to do about it.

I was afraid to answer the question. I didn’t want a relationship with David. I didn’t want to go down that path with him. If I asked the question, I’d be forced to open the door. And if I opened the door, I wasn’t sure who would walk through it.

I wanted Pete, I decided, looking back at David and exposing myself to him. I wanted to wait. I wanted to be there on the other side of whatever he decided. David was the perfect placeholder as long as he didn’t want any more than that, but having to bare my soul and reveal why there was such a magnetic pull to Pete, I decided Pete was exactly who I wanted. Flaws and all, I wanted to wait.

And so that’s what I did.

David and I chatted some more until Chapter that night.

I waited.

I went through my Tuesday/Thursday schedule the next day with ease. Morning classes, lunch at the sorority house, chorus, and then the EC meeting back at the house. It was a relatively easy EC meeting amongst officers, as during pledgeship nothing much really changed. There wasn’t a ton to discuss besides listening to the plans Todd and Max had for the freshman, so I sat still and listened. Besides, I thought the entire time, I had bigger fish to fry come Friday.

I waited.

Wednesday came and went as a replica of Monday, complete with another afternoon fuck session with David before he joined his class running errands with the other pledges.

I waited.

And it wasn’t until I was pressing my khakis and blue blazer for my first IFC meeting that Friday afternoon that I realized I’d waited an entire week and I still hadn’t gotten any correspondence from Pete.

“Wait, you’re saying you still haven’t heard anything?” Hutch asked as he sipped his whiskey on the rocks while he and Brian watched me get ready for the meeting. I’d asked Brian to bring me an Old Fashioned to ease my nerves before walking over to campus. He’d shown up with two glasses and Hutch.

“Not a word,” I replied. “It’s weird, right?”

“It’s odd for sure,” Brian replied. “I wonder what his deal is at this point. Is he waiting for you to call him?”

“He’s the one who said I was rushing him,” I looked up from my bed with a look of exasperation. “I can’t call.”

“He can’t have it both ways.” I returned to my ironing, agreeing with Brian but not sure what else to say, determined to make sure my outfit was perfect.

“I think at some point you have to reach out,” Hutch said. “Maybe he’s been busy or something.”

I tried not to let my annoyance show. In truth, as annoyed as I was, I didn’t want to reveal the one thing that had made the agonizing wait for Pete to contact me bearable. David Marcossi.

“He is in Brown’s advertising intensive, so I’m sure he is busy,” I replied. “But it takes two seconds to text someone you know is waiting to hear from you.”

I shrugged. Neither of them had the answer, and as I got dressed for my meeting, I searched for one to no avail.

I tried to think through every scenario of why he hadn’t contacted me in a week, partly to find the answer and partly to keep my mind off what I was getting ready to embark upon. Maybe he was too busy. Maybe he was still thinking. Maybe he had finished thinking and he really didn’t care about me as much as I had thought. Maybe. All I knew is I appreciated the distraction.

The truth is, I was nervous about the Interfraternal Council meeting. This was unchartered territory for me. The idea of rubbing elbows with the true elite of our campus was one that excited me and scared me all at the same time.

“Well, you listen here, bud,” Hutch said, helping me with the bowtie I’d borrowed from his extensive collection. “Don’t think about any of that tonight. You represent Chi Beta now. Time to concentrate and rule the world like you were made to.”

Hutch saying that, especially with the current state of our friendship, meant a lot and echoed in my mind as I walked to the fourth floor of Washington Hall, where the large faculty meeting room had been transformed into a banquet hall of sorts.

As I approached Washington Hall, I noticed a group of other frat guys walking up the hill towards the building as well. I took a deep breath.

The mingling part of it all came naturally to me once I was thrust into the melee. I shook hands with the guys I recognized first. There was the President of Sigma Chi, Parker, who happened to be Nick’s fraternity big. He gave me a big handshake and we shot the shit for a couple minutes in the Washington Hall atrium as the rest of the membership trickled in.

“Get a drink with me, Crowley?” Parker asked. I was grateful he was being cordial to me and not icing me out for how I’d treated Nick. I supposed this went beyond personal relationships as the guys in that atrium created the face and culture of Greek life on campus.

I followed Parker to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks, just like he did, and winced through the first couple throat searing sips.

Parker introduced me to Blake, the president of Fiji, who I’d seen at their annual Fiji Islands party the spring before, but hadn’t gotten to know. Most of the guys were recognizable, albeit looked completely different dressed in business clothes rather than in regular party attire or on campus loungewear. Slicked back hair, pressed blazers, expensive ties and matching pocket squares.

I tagged along as Parker shook hands with the university Provost, Dr. Swenson, and his guest, an alumni of the law school across the hill.

“I look forward to hearing you speak this evening,” Parker told the guest. We shook his hand and continued to make the rounds.

Twenty minutes, a dozen handshakes, and another bourbon later, I was finally introduced to Chris Turner, President of the student body, the Beta fraternity, and of the IFC.

“Parker James, good to see you, buddy,” Chris charismatically greeted the guy I’d hitched my wagon to for the night. “How are things in the hallowed halls of Sigma Chi?”

“All good things so far this year. Pledge class of 27,” Parker replied.

“That’s amazing, man,” Chris replied. I noticed right away he had this uncanny ability to be genuine. He listened closely as if the person he was talking to was the only person in the room. I watched and studied how he made eye contact, leaned in slightly, and took in everything Parker was saying. “And you’ll forgive me, we haven’t been formally introduced, but I feel like I should know the name,” Chris said turning to me after he and Parker shared pledge class stories.

“Corbin Crowley,” I responded confidently, extending a hand and concentrating on a firm handshake. “I’ll be representing Chi Beta for the duration.”

“Taking over for Dominick Slavin?” Chris asked. I mimicked his stance and how he held his glass.

“We’ve decided to go with a different leadership style this semester to test how it works,” I responded. “He’s still very much in charge back at the house.”

“Interesting.” Chris’ eye contact was penetrating, and it took every ounce of me to remain calm and casual. This was campus royalty. He was like an OD Kennedy, and here he was shooting the shit with me. Even for me, this was huge. And it was exactly what I’d wanted. “Now, you write for The Founder, don’t you? I think I’ve read a few of your articles.”

I was shocked he knew anything about me, but if there was anything to know it would be that. He almost reminded me of my dad in the way my dad knew exactly one thing about all of my friends and brought it up any time they came over.

“I sure do,” I replied. “Back page.”

“That’s right. The Signature. Listen, you’ve given my girlfriend way too much relationship advice, it’s starting to scare me,” he smiled. I watched as he pulled away from the circle the three of us had made. “I need to start corralling everyone upstairs. Nice to formally meet you, Corbin. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other now that you’re here.”

He flashed me the perfect smile and made his exit.

“You can breathe now, Corbin,” Parker joked, noticing the way I gazed at Chris Turner’s perfect smile on his perfect face framed by his perfect hair walking away into the crowd, his perfect body perfectly making contact with everyone he met.

All in all, in the hour before the meeting began at six, I met most all of the other fraternity representatives, mostly presidents, but a couple of guys like me who came in lieu of the normal representation. I was intrigued by it all, but especially how each guy ran his respective house, but also held important positions throughout campus. There were presidents of different clubs, varsity team captains, and representatives from every university academic and business society. It wasn’t Greek life, I learned quickly. This was the creme de la creme. No wonder Hutch and Dominick were so peeved when I went after it.

The one guy I was sure to introduce myself to was Ryan Caffey. He was the president of the university’s Student Executive Committee, or SEC. Twice a year, the SEC met to dole out appropriated funds to every sponsored club on campus. Clubs had to put together extensive business plans and presentations to recite in front of the five-member committee, and afterwards, those five, led by Ryan Caffey, met in private and dished out the budget. I had watched presentations in front of them for both The Founder and for the Fancy Ball committees, and it was terrifying, but I’d sat in the room where the sausage was made, and had even used some back-channelled influence to get favorable budgets. Those guys held every club’s fate in their ledgers. Your club’s entire financial future was in their hands, and I wanted to be even closer than I’d been in the past. Besides Chris Turner, Ryan was probably the most powerful student in the room.

When it was time for the meeting to begin, I followed Parker and the waft of Ralph Lauren cologne up the stairs to the fourth floor of the building. It was set up like a hotel meeting hall, with a podium and rows of chairs. At the entrance to the left was a table for coach check, and to the right another table with drinking glasses, water, tea, and more bourbon.

The gentlemen slowly migrated to seats, some refreshing their drinks with a different bartender at the bar, and after the procession of small talk made its way into the meeting room, we were all silenced and asked to take our seats by none other than Chris Turner.

The details of the meeting itself are actually pretty dull and tedious. One speaker after another came up and talked about ‘Dynamic Leadership’. That was the big buzzword. First the University Provost, and then his alumni guest. After them, the University President addressed the group. All in all, I’m glad I had the two drinks I’d had to prime me for the forced jokes and altogether boring presentations.

Chris adjourned for a brief recess. I watched as all the older gentlemen shook hands and said their goodbyes to the rest of us. I assumed since the learning portion of the night was over, and it was time to get into real fraternity business, most of the older guys could go. The only adult that stayed behind was Dean Coleman.

“Okay, gentleman, let’s call this meeting to order,” Chris began. The podium at the front of the room had been replaced by a table. Chris sat in the middle, flanked by the other officers. He had a small gavel near his right hand, and I assumed it was time to enter Parliamentary Procedure.

Chris kicked things off and then handed over to the Vice President of Philanthropy. There was a motion on the table to increase the number of required philanthropy hours per house from 30 a semester to 40, in order to be more in line with the Panhellenic’s requirements for the sororities. There was also discussion that blood drives shouldn’t count as philanthropy anymore, as there was one almost every weekend at this point, and there was a saturation in brothers using them as a quick and easy way to get hours.

That debate went on for a while before the discussion was brought to a vote. The moratorium on blood drives failed, but the required hours were raised. Apparently that was a topic from the previous semester, and the gentleman seated at the end who I later learned was the Vice President of Greek Outreach was pushing for Philanthropy to get its shit together.

The meeting itself wasn’t altogether all that different than our chapter meetings. Each committee presented. The chair acknowledged members at large for question or comment. Votes were taken.

The last to go was Chip Wallace, the president of Kappa Sig and the Vice President of Greek Outreach. When his chair was called, I sat up and paid attention.

It was very clear early on in his presentation that Greek Outreach was the social chair of the IFC. He began by talking about forming a joint committee with the Panhellenic officers, which would have been the female equivalent of the committee we were in. He went on to announce he was working diligently on a spring term luncheon with the Clifton Hill chamber of commerce and that in the near future the president of the city’s entrepreneurship guild wanted to partner for some kind of business fair.

“Isn’t that something for the business school to consider?” a gentleman asked when acknowledged by the chair.

“My goal is to put it together for late spring, splitting resources with the business school, Panhellenic, and hopefully the career placement office if we can figure out a way to sell it to them as a career development event. I don’t anticipate using too many of our resources other than co-sponsorship, but I’ll work with the treasury on that.” Chip nodded towards the gentleman directly to Chris Turner’s right, the Vice President of Budgeting.

The entire thing was incredibly fascinating to me. I’d spent my first two and a half years carving a place for myself on campus, and being proud of what that place was. But here I was, at a new level of influence, and while I was getting drunk from whiskey on the rocks, I couldn’t help but get drunker by the overall ambiance of power around me. This was the next level for me to reach, and yet once I was there, I couldn’t help but think ahead.

After the meeting was adjourned, the bulk of the membership went back to fill their glasses one more time. I lingered around my seat and waited for Chip Wallace to pass by.

“Hey Chip, I’m Corbin,” I extended a hand. “We met downstairs.”

“Yeah,” he flashed me a perfect smile. His face was somewhat round and jovial. He wasn’t thin, but he wasn’t husky. He filled out his blazer nicely, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was muscle and how much was a little extra college weight. Still, he was very handsome with a winning smile, a short haircut that came down across his forehead, and the ever charming presence of a frat star. “We met downstairs. You write for the Founder with one of my pledge brothers.”

“I do, I do. Todd, our business manager. I also did some theatre stuff with Teegan from your pledge class, I believe.” I smiled back at Chip, and tried to ooze all the charm I’d picked up from watching Chris Turner earlier. “Listen, I was very intrigued by this entrepreneurship fair you’re trying to put together.”

“Thanks. It’s my pet project, but some of the other members aren’t so enthusiastic about the IFC extending out to things like that. The exclusivity, you know?”

“I get it, but you’re the VP of Outreach, so…”

“Yeah… always gotta be reaching out,” he chuckled. I mimicked his laugh.

“I know I’m new here, but I’d love to get involved and maybe help out a bit. For example, listen, with all due respect, if you want the guys to take it seriously, maybe calling it something other than a ‘fair’. I dunno… it sounds a bit trivial. Maybe we go with an entrepreneurship summit. Sounds more important that way.”

“Huh,” Chip tilted his head and bit his bottom lip. “You might be onto something, Crowley.”

“Yeah, just think about it. And if I can help with my connections in any way, I’ve got a rolodex from working at The Founder and interning at the theatre department, I’d love to do that. The whole thing intrigues me.”

“I’d love the help. Maybe we can get together and brainstorm some time before the next meeting. Two heads may be better than one on this kind of thing,” he smiled. I swear I noticed a quick twinkle in his eyes when he brought up two heads, but I pushed the thought aside as a tipsy idea. I smiled back, shook Chip’s hand, and promised to contact him soon to meet up and discuss the summit.

I was on a high after the meeting. I was drunk, and I had successfully represented my house. I’d laid some groundwork to get in even higher on the IFC, but that would need to be a slow burn like Coleman suggested.

Still, walking home in the brisk late January night, I couldn’t help but feel full of myself in a new way.

I pulled out my phone and saw I had a few messages from my class asking what time I’d be back and if I wanted to play beirut that night. They had pledges coming over to serve us and be ball boys. The idea sounded intriguing, so I replied I was on my way home. And yet, my thoughts were filled by the one guy who hadn’t sent me a message.

I waited.

The house was as typically lively as you would expect on a Friday night. All of the pledges were around running silly errands and reciting things they were meant to have memorized over their first full week of pledgeship - original founders names, important dates, the full names and hometowns of the current brotherhood. Messing up on a recitation led to some form of punishment. Pushups, situps, wall squats or bear crawls. Whatever the offended brother thought up in the moment.

Mostly it was just fetching drinks, making them tell us jokes, and getting to know them on a brother-to-brother level instead of superficially like we had during rush.

I went upstairs to the beer pong room where my class and some of the sophomores were hanging out. I noticed David in the corner and immediately asked him to fetch me a vodka and tonic with exactly twelve ice cubes.

“There’s some vodka in my fridge. Not sure about tonic water. You may have to ask around.”

He nodded and gave me a slightly bewildered look. I couldn’t show favoritism in front of the other guys, even if he was my little. It was a simple task, and he’d get over it.

It was my first night drinking since I’d spent the night in the health center, and I tried my best to keep it together. I had the initial drink David brought me, plus the ones I’d had back at Washington Hall. I skipped playing beer pong on the advice of the doctor at the Health Center, and instead sat around, watched, and helped quiz the pledges who were there.

At one point, I caught myself sitting on the couch next to David, my hand effortlessly rested on his thigh while Brandon waited on my four pledge brothers who were playing game after game of beirut.

“I think I’m gonna crash, boys,” I announced, yawning.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” David stood, following me. I deliberately avoided eye contact with everyone in the room as David and I made our way down the hall to my place.

He planted a kiss on my lips as soon as I’d closed the door behind us, catching me off balance, and slightly off guard.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he mouthed an inch away from me.

I don’t know why, but when he came in for a second kiss, I tensed just a bit. I hesitated.

Looking back now, something about that night changed me. Something about rubbing elbows with the Chris Turners and the Chip Wallaces made kissing David Marcossi seem… small.

He felt me tense under his touch and stepped away.

“Should I spend the night?” he asked. “I’m allowed to. We don’t have curfew tonight, and there’s no PT in the morning.”

Pledges usually had Saturday and Sunday mornings off so they could cater to the brotherhood well into the night. Plus it was the first week of pledgeship and things weren’t so intense yet.

It took me a second to respond to David.

“Spend the night if you’d like,” I said, side stepping him, and fumbling with my khakis.

“Do you want me to?”

“You know what, David, sometimes you’ve just got to do what you want to do, and you don’t need my permission. Stop trying to see inside my head,” I snapped.

I don’t know where the reaction came from, but there was a moment of bubbling aggravation mixed with the alcohol that night and it just erupted. It was the questions, the psychoanalyzing I hadn’t asked for, the wearing my clothes I hadn’t given permission for. It was the intensity of all of it, while everything else was happening around me. It was the feeling I had reached a new echelon and David was still behind a peg. It was all of it, and the fact the one guy I wanted to spend the night with hadn’t said anything to me in a week.

“I’m sorry, David,” I turned around and walked back towards him. I took his right cheek in my hand, tiptoed to meet his face and gave him a soft and gentle kiss. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

He looked at me. He didn’t say anything but I could read his confused reaction all over his face. He was wondering if he should stay or go, and I knew he was too nervous to ask. I helped him with the decision by pulling him closer to me by the belt buckle, releasing the metal, undoing his pants, and leading him to my bed once the two of us were undressed.

That night was different. We didn’t hook up. We barely even made out. David and I went to bed together, and instead of fucking, he pulled me close into his nook and we spooned without saying anything for the entire night. When I look back on it, I hadn’t felt that warm and protected since the night Pete and I cuddled over Christmas Break.

I waited.

That weekend was jam packed for me. I had Fancy Ball committee meetings all Saturday morning as the decorations and theme reveal committees met to plan out how we’d announce the theme to the general public. I then sat with the chair of the entire committee, Stacy Crouch, with the budget and sales committees to make sure they were ready once the theme was revealed. I was known for my prowess with logistics, so even though I wasn’t on the executive committee of Fancy Ball, they could trust that I’d ask the right questions to make sure every respective committee had thought through everything and could execute at a high level.

I met with Alexandria after lunch to talk about the paper. We still didn’t have a distributions manager, and Todd was stepping down as business director at the end of that semester.

“Start thinking about what you want to do next year here,” she advised. Editor-in-chief was open, however I knew her protégé would be all over that opportunity. Plus, I didn’t want to take on too much considering I had other aspirations that were planted and beginning to grow.

I didn’t make it back to the house until well after dinner. I studied a bit, had a couple of beers while Mister and I watched The Devil Wears Prada on my laptop, and at about eleven, called to see where David was.

“Went on a walmart run with Lee and some of the seniors. Why? What’s up?”

“Want to keep me warm again tonight?” I asked.

“Um, I guess I could come over after we finish unloading here. I’m kind of being directed, you know?”

I got it. His time wasn’t his own as a pledge. I could command him to come over, but even then, it wouldn’t be until after he’d completed the senior’s assignment.

“Would you rather be here than out getting directed?” There was a long pause.

“Yes.”

“I’m just hanging out with Mister, so come by whenever. Make yourself at home.”

I still felt bad for snapping at him, so I may have overdone it with the niceties, but it had felt good to feel David surround me last night. Protect me. He was warm and big enough to fill me with a great deal of warmth. I fit perfectly in his arms and against his body. It was the kind of intimacy I hadn’t felt in a long time, and that superseded any physical act of love making.

I woke up the next morning with David’s morning wood pressed against my back. I had an internal struggle on what to do with it. The base part of me wanted to reach behind me and guide it right into my ass for some morning fun. The better part of me wanted to stretch out, wake up, and start my day.

The romantic in me wanted to wait.

The decision was made for me as soon as I opened my phone and checked my messages. There was nothing from the guy I wanted to hear from, but there was one message waiting for me.

From Unknown: Hey Corbin, it’s Chip Wallace. Great getting to hang out with you after the IFC meeting. Was wondering if you play golf at all? A couple of us are going out to the range at The Homestead today if you want to come along. I figured we could start that brainstorm you promised. I can introduce you to a few of the guys.

A smile formed across my face. I felt David stir behind me. He wrapped his hand around my torso as I responded.

To Chip: Hey Chip. I’d love to tag along, I’m terrible at golf, so if you don’t mind a total novice tagging along, I’m game.

I laid there next to David’s warmth waiting for the response. It came almost immediately.

From Chip: I can show you how it’s done. Meet at Kappa Sig at ten? Tee time is 11:45, and we’ll need to get up there. Let me know if you need any gear.

I stretched deliberately out of bed, listening for David to stir behind me. I figured letting him hear me squirm was better than shaking him awake and letting him know I needed him out ASAP.

“Good morning,” he yawned.

“Hey,” I whispered, standing up and tucking my own morning wood into the waistband of my shorts. I looked at the clock on my phone and saw I had a little less than an hour to get ready. “Get up pledge.”

My voice was even, but not quiet. I didn’t have a ton of time to mess around, and now that I was awake, I wanted to get things going.

“Huh?”

“Get up, hey,” I shook him by the shoulder. I watched him groggily sit up and take in his surroundings. I gave David a quick kiss as he stirred awake so he wouldn’t take my urgency as annoyance towards him. “I’m going to hop a shower. I need coffee here when I’m done.”

“Okay, yeah,” he said, realizing this wasn’t going to be a coital morning. “Coffee.”

“There should be some cash in my top drawer. Grab me some coffee from Blue Roof. Get yourself something too. I also need you to get me some golf clubs, preferably from someone around my height. And I’m going to need a ride waiting for me downstairs at 9:50 sharp. Figure it out with your class, please.”

I barked the orders like David wasn’t my little, channeling my inner Miranda Priestly from the film I’d watched a million times. This was pledgeship. We’d rushed them all fall, and now we got to reap the rewards. I could tell by his expression he didn’t love this side of me, but he was a pledge and I was a brother. It was Sunday. He would probably be running errands all day long, and quite frankly, being it was almost nine in the morning, he was late getting started.

“Roger that,” David said with just a hint of sarcasm that I didn’t love. I let it slide, pulled my towel down from its hook next to my closet, and rushed into the shower.

I moved quickly through getting ready, pulled on a pair of blue khakis I’d gotten from Banana Republic, a grey and white checkered button down, my black Northface and hunter green puffer vest I’d had for years, but would keep me warm and my arms free while I was hitting balls at the range. I did the best I could with my hair, parting it on the side, letting it air dry with no product, and praying that it at least behaved itself in the elements that day.

I sipped the coffee David had left on my desk along with my change. I looked at my watch and saw he had about fifteen minutes or so to produce the golf clubs I’d asked for and the ride I needed to Frat Row down Washington Ave.

With a minute to spare, just before I was going to call him, Lee came into my room.

“Hey Corbin, David sent me. Your chariot awaits,” he said formally. I finished my last sip, grabbed my wallet and followed Lee downstairs.

“Where is David?”

“He got called to the senior's house off campus,” Lee replied. “I’ve been trying to coordinate everyone all morning long.”

“Welcome to being PCP,” I said. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” I followed Lee into Hutch’s Xtera. Lee jumped into the driver’s seat. I looked into the hatchback to notice a pair of beautiful, still shiny golf clubs. “Where’d you guys find those?”

“They are… um… they’re mine.” Lee started the car, flipped it into reverse, and in a second we were on the road. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, no, thank you,” I responded. “We’re okay right, Lee?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“The PCP stuff. It’s not too overwhelming yet, is it?” It would have been a question for him had he been my little, and even though he wasn’t, the frantic way I knew he was dishing out tasks to his class made me want to make sure he was entering all of this in a healthy way.

“No, it’s cool. It’s the first weekend, so everyone is kind of getting a feel for what you guys are all doing, you know?”

“Can I give you some advice?”

He looked over at me. “Absolutely.”

I put my hand on his thigh, and it almost felt like Lee took a deep breath for the first time since he’d come into my room. I felt him relax under my touch. This was the kind of intimacy I had hoped for with Lee when I groomed him, and before he was taken away from me. Us sharing these moments of brotherly advice while the energy between us kept us connected.

“It’s the first weekend. Pace yourself. The guys are going to throw a ton your way, but most of it is bitch work. Decide what takes priority.”

Lee nodded.

“Make sure you have at least two guys whoare really fast at laundry. That’s what takes up the most time, but honestly, if you’re churning it out, they can do other stuff while it’s in the machines. And here’s the biggest thing. The brothers use stupid shit like driving them places and cleaning bedrooms to get to know you guys. Ask a ton of questions while you’re with brothers and it’ll save you from having to go fetch stuff. We had a template of canned questions to ask to get the seniors to talk about themselves non-stop. Ask Hutch if he still has it. Either way, if a pledge stumbles on a topic that gets a brother talking for hours, tell the other guys so they can use it next time that brother has a task. Make sense?”

Lee looked at me earnestly and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said as we rounded the car into the Greek Row shared parking lot. There were eight houses total in that area of campus, and Lee turned on his hazards smack dab in the middle, jumped out, and unloaded the clubs. “I really appreciate the advice, Corbin.”

“Just because you aren’t my little, doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. Thanks for these,” I said picking up the bag and turning towards the Kappa Sig house. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked into their common room.

I’d been to Kappa Sig a million times for parties. It was nothing new, however, all of the houses had a certain charm during the daytime. The decor was turn of the century southern with white accents and red brick. The floor to ceiling windows were draped with expensive plush tapestry that you didn’t appreciate when you were three sheets to the wind. The hardwood floor and white banisters lent an air of expense to the houses that didn’t betray the things that went on over the weekend, or even in the basement downstairs.

When I walked into the foyer, I turned left into a common room that had several leather couches and a large coffee table in the middle. If I’d continued straight, I would have walked into the large dining room that was separated by a small door that led to the kitchen. Past the dining room was the downstairs den that had a pool table, foosball, and big mounted TV connected to several gaming consoles. This was the den used by the brothers who didn’t live in the house. There were several staircases both inside and outside that led upstairs, where there were private bedrooms and another den area that was generally reserved for the sophomores that lived there.

“Crowley, I was starting to think maybe I was getting stood up,” Chip stood from the couch as I walked in and set my bag down.

“I wouldn’t imagine a guy like you knows that feeling,” I smiled, taking a step forward and shaking his hand. A little flattery never hurt anyone, I decided.

We were dressed similarly, only Chip was in grey pants. There were a couple other brothers around minding their own business as Chip and I shook hands and got ready to depart.

“Shall we?”

I followed Chip out to the parking lot and to a white Land Rover.

“Let me get those for you,” he said, grabbing my clubs and tucking them in next to his. I began to feel slightly out of water as the reality of driving to a country club in a Land Rover to play golf with a member of the university’s most elite club hit me over the head.

I jumped in the passenger’s seat next to Chip, buckled up, and we were on our way, down Highway 95 towards The Homestead.

“You pick the tunes?” he asked after he’d plugged in the auxiliary cable and handed me his iPod. “There’s a ton of stuff on there. Whatever you’re into.”

Picking songs always gave me a bit of anxiety, but I settled on a playlist he had titled ‘Basement Jams’ assuming it was the frattier stuff on there. Black Eyed Peas came on first, which was great. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“How often do you guys go out to The Homestead to golf?” I tried to break the ice.

“Once a month, or so. Get your mind off school, the girlfriend, and all that,” he replied. “Have you ever been?”

“Once for a KD formal and we had our Founder end of the year dinner there once. It’s really nice.”

“Yeah, Ritzy. Have you ever spent the night?” he looked over at me.

“That’s a little too rich for my blood,” I smirked. My family definitely wasn’t in the same one percentile that could afford even a one night stay at The Homestead. The drive itself was about forty-five minutes from campus, and I hoped we wouldn’t talk about money or status the entire time.

“Really? Those are nice clubs that you brought.”

“They’re borrowed, actually,” I replied, deciding to be honest. We were in a car together headed an hour outside of town. There was no use creating a charade I couldn’t keep up. Plus, I thought, humanizing myself to someone like Chip might have helped me inch my way further into his orbit. “I told you I don’t normally play.”

“Oh yeah,” Chip replied. There was an awkward silence between us for a mile down the road before Chip broke it. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, Corbin.”

I decided to break the ice with a bit of a risky joke.

“Already? Just like that? No foreplay. I didn’t peg you for that kind of guy.” Chip shot me a look. The car veered slightly towards the shoulder, catching the ridges that are meant to wake you up. “I’m kidding! Eyes on the road.”

I smiled broadly. Chip smirked.

“You’d be lucky to see how I peg,” Chip looked over and raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the word peg. He took his right hand off the steering wheel and placed it gently on my thigh. It was my turn to be speechless. “I’m kidding. You can pick your jaw up off my dash.”

“Okay, okay. What are these brass tacks we need to get down to?”

“Why are you on the IFC?” Chip asked. I turned my head slightly and looked out the window at the brown trees lining the mountains we zoomed past on our way to the West Virginia border.

“Do I need a reason?”

“I’m just saying. You’re a junior. You aren’t an officer in your house. And your reputation kind of precedes you.”

“My reputation?”

“Come on,” Chip turned to me. “You know how to play the social game around here.”

I snapped my head towards him.

“It isn’t an insult. You just… you find your way into important circles. The IFC is the latest one. So what gives?”

I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and tried to buy myself a second or two before responding. I tried to think quickly. I didn’t want to come across as a social climber, but apparently that was my reputation on campus. Even amongst these guys I’d met but had just gotten to know. I had to think quickly, and so I did.

“Before I answer that,” I blinked. “Tell me what gives with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean here you and I are on our way to play golf. We hadn’t said more than ten words to each other before Friday, and yet here we are. So… what gives with you?”

I knew the question was intentionally ambiguous, but I wanted to throw Chip off for a second. He’d flirted with me a minute before, and I knew the interpretation of that question could go either way, and so I let it linger in the air for a second before continuing.

“The entrepreneurship fair?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” I watched Chip shake his head and find his way back to the subject at hand. I couldn’t help but smirk. “That.”

“That’s why we’re here right? To talk about that? So what gives with it? Surely I’m not the only person capable of helping you get it off the ground. And yet here we are.”

“Let me tell you the truth about the IFC,” Chip took a deep breath as if he had something incredible to get off his chest. “The guys on the committee don’t represent the best of the best like they’d want you to believe. They aren’t even the best guys in their fraternities. They’re guys who spent their first years here eating Cheerios and playing video games in their flannels. They’re a bunch of daddy’s boys, whose fathers have bought pool tables and renovated entire floors in their houses. They’re entitled, silver spoon fed yuppies, who get woken up by mom and dad at some point during their junior years and told they need something to put on their resumes so they can waltz into a job at Goldman Sachs or Meryll Lynch worth almost six-figures right out of school. Jobs their uncles and grandfathers have arranged, but they need the credentials to justify them. So they do the easiest thing there is and convince the guys around them who’ve been playing on the pool tables their dads bought to vote them into leadership, and the unlucky ones become their house’s presidents.”

Chip used an interesting tense to describe those other guys, as if he was somehow removed from them and not one of them. As I watched his jaw tense, his symantec tense wasn’t at all lost on me.

“So these guys who’ve never had to work for anything a day in their lives show up to the IFC and all of a sudden are taught how to be great leaders to their peers by guys who followed the same trajectory and can now look back and see the farce of the committee for what it is.”

“So your pet project? It’s just for show?”

“I’ve been on the committee since last May, Crowley. And every month I get up there and I talk about this fair for what it could be, and every month Finance smiles and nods at me. We’re all just doing what we need to in order to pad that resume and get that job.”

“I don’t buy it’s that simple for you, Chip,” I replied. “You keep saying ‘they’. You aren’t ‘they’. You want this summit to get off the ground. You only have a couple of months to make it happen, and you think with my level of ambition, we could maybe pull it off together. You don’t invite a guy who hardly plays golf, who doesn’t even have his own clubs, but who may have a rolodex a mile long, to shoot the shit with you on the range. You don’t do that unless you think that guy can help you.”

Chip was silent for almost half a mile as my words dug in. I tried to anticipate what he was thinking, but without seeing his face, his eyes, I couldn’t even take a guess.

“When I joined the IFC I was just like you, Corbin. Wide eyed naivety.”

“Cut the shit. You want this done, but you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard in case you can’t pull it off,” I cut him off, raising my voice and shifting in my passenger's seat to angle towards him. “You said brass tacks, no foreplay. So let’s get down to brass tacks, no foreplay. We each have something the other wants. I’ll help you with this summit, and you’ll have something to tack onto your legacy that no one else on the IFC has. Something tangible. Some you can be proud of. Something you’ve earned that isn’t attached to the number of zeros your dad can throw onto the back of a check.”

“And what do you get out of that?”

We were back to the question of why.

“You aren’t here out of the goodness of your heart. You didn’t wake up at nine on a Sunday and borrow a full set of clubs because you’re passionate about golf.” I took a deep breath and let Chip continue. “I’ll make the introductions you want. I’ll get you the handshakes, and you can decide what to do with them. The IFC, the Student Executive Committee, the Student Faculty Hearing Board, all of those elusive guys I just described who will only give you the time of day if they think you can benefit them in some way… I’ll introduce you. I’ll make sure they know your name. I’ll make sure they know your strengths. And when it’s time to vote for a committee chair, they may just remember all of those things.”

It took me a second to realize that I’d been read by Chip just as thoroughly as I’d read him. I’d spent so much time at Chi Beta circumventing the rules by knowing what made everyone tick that I bought into the idea that I was the only one who could see through what people did and said and get down to what people wanted. I wasn’t the only person on campus who could manipulate my way into the correct rooms. I wasn’t the only person who could influence my way onto the right committees. I wasn’t the only person who could rise above my station and carve out a legacy for myself on the backs of what others wanted.

They.

“You and I are much more alike than you realize, Crowley,” Chip said suddenly, jolting me back into the moment.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see when we get to The Homestead,” Chip replied.

I wanted to know what he meant; I was desperate to know. But I couldn’t do anything but sit in the car, next to Chip, and wait.

The rest of the conversation to The Homestead was effortless with Chip. He was a laid back guy, very funny, and knew so much on so many different topics that he was very easy to talk to. It wasn’t until we crossed through the Appalachian mountains and passed the West Virginia border that I realized I had gone the entire trip without thinking about the guy whose text I’d wanted to receive that morning when I had gotten Chip’s instead.

In fact, I thought, I’d gone an entire week without Pete reaching out to me at all. I’d lasted. I’d survived.

I had waited.