“C’est dommage que le reste de la classe ne parle pas français!” (Too bad the rest of the class doesn’t speak French!)

We’d sat around for another half hour, getting one another’s information and talking, getting to know our fellow pledge brothers.

It was a great feeling. No one made me feel like an outsider—on the contrary, they were all welcoming, friendly, and nice.

I’d always wondered how it would feel to belong somewhere.

It was better than I could have imagined.

After the meeting had broken up, I was walking out to my car when I ran into Chad in the parking lot. He and two other brothers—Brandon and Rees—were getting out of a red Camaro. “Hi!” I said.

Brandon and Rees had ignored me. They were carrying twelve-packs of beer and just walked on into the house.

But Chad had waited. He smiled. “Your first pledge meeting, Jody?”

“Jordy,” I’d corrected him. “My name’s Jordy.”

“Oh, sorry.” He shrugged. “I’m terrible with names. Anyway, welcome to Beta Kappa. I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“See you tomorrow.” He had waved his hand and taken off.

I’d just stood there in the parking lot, watching him walk away. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his ass. It was phenomenal. And when I got back to my apartment, I’d undressed and lain in my bed, jacking off while I’d imagined what he looked like naked.

And now I’d had a wet dream.

I sighed and poured myself a cup of coffee. I got the assignment out of my backpack. I didn’t need to go over my pledge brothers’ information; I’d committed that to memory when they’d introduced themselves in the chapter room. But I needed to know the exec board’s, and there was no time like the present, since I couldn’t sleep.

But as I went over the information, my mind kept wandering back to my dream, and I kept fantasizing about Chad.

I was falling in love.

Chapter 4

“Okay, pledges,” Eric Matthews said from somewhere behind me. “Your big brother is standing behind you with your family beer. He is about to put it into your hands. Once he does, you need to finish it as quickly as you can. When you are done, turn it upside down on top of your head. When you are all finished, then and only then will I tell you to remove your blindfolds and turn around and meet your big brother. Do you understand?”

“SIR, YES SIR!” we roared back in unison.

“I can’t heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr you!” he shouted back at us.

We shouted our response again, and I hoped Brother Eric wouldn’t make us yell again. My voice was growing hoarse, and my throat was beginning to hurt a little bit. I tried swallowing, but my mouth was completely dry.

The so-called sir sandwich was something we’d gotten used to in the weeks since Rush had ended. It was used when a brother addressed us as a group or as an individual—and only when we were inside the house. The university considered this to be hazing, and so it was forbidden when any outsider—including little sisters—were around. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, personally—the idea was to teach us to respect the brothers who’d already gone through and survived the pledging experience. Other requirements were kind of fun. Every time we saw a brother for the first time that day, we had to shake his hand and say, “How’s your day going, Brother Eric?” It was another gesture of respect, and it also was helping us learn their names. Every assignment we were given as a class seemed designed to subsume the individual into the pledge group, bonding us together as a unit that eventually would be incorporated into the unit of the brotherhood.

I’d done some research on it—it was the same thing soldiers were required to do, and it had infiltrated the fraternity system after World War II when returning soldiers went to college on the GI Bill.

Pledging had gotten tougher since the halcyon days of Rush, when the brothers had been trying to get us to join. Now that we had pledge pins on our lapels, things had changed a bit—the gloves had come off. It actually wasn’t that bad. Some of my pledge brothers complained about it in our meetings up in the house library while the brothers had their own meeting—but it was always the guys struggling to learn their lessons every week. Going up on the hearth after the brothers’ meeting and being forced to recite our lessons in front of the whole house in the dim light was a bit unnerving. We weren’t allowed to make eye contact with any of the brothers—we weren’t even allowed to look at them when we were marched into the Great Room. We had to stand on the ledge around the fireplace, about two feet off the floor. The brotherhood all sat on couches or the floor in complete silence. We had to hold our heads up and look straight ahead at the far wall. The first time we went up there I was absolutely terrified and almost slipped as I stepped up onto the hearth. But when Eric called on me to identify the pledge standing to my left, his hometown, and major, I spoke clearly and my voice didn’t shake. I always knew the required lessons, and so Eric rarely called on me anymore. Whenever he did, I was able to recite it clearly without stumbling and was always rewarded with finger snaps of approval from the brothers. I was determined to be the best pledge ever in the history of Beta Kappa—and it didn’t hurt that I had an excellent memory and learned quickly. I could say the Greek alphabet backward and forward, I knew the Creed of Beta Kappa, and I could recite without pause the Badge of Beta Kappa.

I was having a great time. My pledge brothers all seemed to like me and had elected me vice president of our class. We’d already had a car wash to raise money for the gift we had to buy the house, and I had a few other fund-raisers planned. My talents for organization definitely were coming in handy. I’d also finished all of my required brother interviews, and my little black book—which had to be signed by all of the brothers after we completed an assignment they gave us individually—was almost completed. I loved being a pledge, I loved everything about Beta Kappa—and even though sometimes being a pledge was a little rocky, I was happy I’d accepted the bid. The vast majority of the brothers were cool.

Finally, I belonged somewhere.

Mom and Dad still weren’t completely on board with my joining a fraternity. “If it affects your grades, you’re out of there,” Dad had warned me just that afternoon on the phone. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, but your mother and I are going to trust your judgment. You aren’t drinking, are you?”

“No,” I’d replied. It wasn’t strictly true—sometimes at parties I allowed myself a cup or two of beer from the keg, but that was it. I didn’t get a buzz or get drunk. At first, my pledge brothers were a little put off by my not drinking—as were the brothers—but soon they saw the advantage of always having a designated driver around. Seeing the brothers drunk made me wonder why anyone would ever want to get so wasted—some didn’t know their limits and kept drinking until they threw up or passed out or both. I couldn’t quite grasp how this could be fun. The only time I ever threw up was when I was sick, and I thought it was unpleasant. I also didn’t much care for the taste of beer, which was what the brothers usually had available. I also didn’t see the appeal of not being able to think clearly, stumbling around, or slurring my words when I spoke.

I was definitely in the minority on that score.

I was just wondering how I was going to get out of drinking the family beer when someone reached around me and put a cold bottle in my hands. Even with the blindfold I could tell it wasn’t the normal-sized beer bottle—it was the quart size. My heart sank. I wasn’t going to be able to drink it all; I’d fail. Panic gripped me. Maybe I could just spill most of it?