“Both.”
Of course he’d want Jack to answer both. “Yeah, for the most part. I mean there are a couple guys I wish weren’t my brothers, but that’s how it is.”
“How’d you pick that fraternity?”
“There wasn’t really any other option.”
Ed’s brow furrowed. “I thought Harrison had a lot of fraternities.”
“No, not like that.” Jack waved his hand and shook his head. “My dad, both of them were in Pi Kappa Phi. Marcus and I grew up hearing all the stories about their days in the house.”
“Wow, that’s cool.”
“Yeah, they met when they were freshmen and were friends until… well… until my parents died.” He thought he’d been ready to deal with the issue, but confronted with it, he froze.
Ed scooted up on his chair, leaning forward. “You okay, Jack?”
Jack rubbed the ring at the chain around his neck and drew in a calming breath. “Yeah. Yeah.”
Ed seemed to realize Jack needed a change in conversation, because he abruptly started telling Jack how his sister had woken him last night screaming murder. She’d gone to the bathroom at night, and when she walked back to her room, someone was in there, rustling the sheets.
Ed had launched into her room with a bat only to be confronted with their cat. The first time the cat decided not to be shy. In the middle of the night, rolling around Becky’s bed. They laughed so hard, they needed to make a cup of hot milk to settle down again.
“Sounds like you’re a good guy to have around… wayward cats.” And panicking… friends.
Ed sipped his coffee. “What about you?”
“I like to think I’m a good guy to have around too.”
“I’m sure you are.” Ed set his coffee down. “Look, about last night….”
Jack clasped his cup, muscles rigid. Here it was. “Yeah?”
Air blew into the café along with a group of rowdy hipster students toting stainless steel cups. Jack shuffled forward on the cushion to hear Ed better, but Ed’s gaze strayed toward group and his mouth flattened.
Jack cursed the interruption, but it was clear the moment had passed.
“What are your plans the rest of the day?” Ed asked instead.
“The rest of the day?”
Ed laughed, and Jack soaked it up.
“Class, bantering with Brittany—she’s awesome—frat meeting about the spring formal, messing around with the guys. Might squeeze some actual study in there.” A lot of study, actually.
“Messing around with the guys?”
That piqued your interest, did it? Jack smirked. “Play a bit of ball if the weather holds. Get out the PlayStation and hit the video games if it doesn’t.”
“What’s the spring formal?”
Jack groaned. “The bane of my life.”
Jack followed Marcus into their room after their morning class—of which he spent the majority daydreaming about Ed. He was pretty keen to get back to that, to be honest.
He’d told Ed about the spring formal, leaving out any mention of his bet with Harper to land a date. He didn’t want to freak Ed out. Or make him think he was asking him to come.
First they had to cut through the subtext.
Marcus clapped him on the back of the head. “Dude, you know you’re on laundry.”
Jack flipped him off. “No way.” He stared at the pile of dirty clothes and shook his head. “Do our shirts and pants fuck like bunnies while we’re gone? I’d swear we didn’t have this much laundry to do when we left.”
Marcus laughed, then proceeded to add to the pile by shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it into the basket. “What? We’re going for a run first, no?”
Jack snagged his shirt and popped his head through his yellow-and-black T-shirt. Shorts on, he perched on the edge of the bed and laced his sneakers.
Marcus pulled him to the floor so they could stretch. “What route do we want to take, and don’t say—”
“To the river and back by way of Granville.”
“—Granville.” Marcus shook his head and sighed. “What is it with you and that stupid hill? Can’t we just run down to the river and then use the path next to Brittany’s sorority to come home? It’s all flat that way.”
“What?” Jack leaned forward and grabbed the soles of his feet. Bending his head, he felt the stretch in his hamstrings. “You’re Mr. Lacrosse Jock, should be a piece of cake for you.”
Marcus imitated his roommate and held the position for a few seconds. He exhaled, released the stretch, and sat up. “You really excel at finding the worst hills in the area to take me running.”
Standing, Jack put his hand on his desk to keep his balance while he stretched his quad. “You’ll thank me when you’ve still got gas left in your legs at the end of a lacrosse game.”
Marcus shook his head, then did a double take. “Do you have to wear that shirt?”
“What?” Jack pulled the bottom taut so the lettering was easy to read.
“‘You will get very wet on this ride?’ Really? Where’d you get that?”
Feeling pleased, he pressed the wrinkles from the front. “Brittany bought it for me.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Marcus turned to stretch his left hamstring.
After warming up for another couple minutes, Jack steeled himself for a grueling run.
“Race you. Loser does the winner’s laundry this week.”
One day one of these bets was going to backfire on him.
If they weren’t starting to already.
Jack resisted the urge to tap his foot on the linoleum like his chem lecturer did when he waited for his students to hurry up and settle down. Why was it taking her so long to pack up? They’d spent enough hours here working on the finishing touches of their assignment.
“Brittany,” he said, “c’mon, or I’m leaving without you.”
He pushed open the door and made his way outside. Brittany muttered something, rushing to catch up.
Outside, the cool, fresh air breezed over him.
“Keep your junk in your jock, I’m here.” Brittany flicked her braids over the collar of her coat. The mocha denim complemented her light brown skin perfectly. “What got you all pissy? It’s not like the cafeteria food is worth rushing there.”
He tried not to laugh but couldn’t hold it back. Brittany always had a quip to lighten the mood.
“True,” he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer. He patted her arm and got an arched eyebrow in return. “I have to get the laundry in before we can eat.”
She slapped his hand and wiggled free. “You lost another bet with Marc, didn’t you?”
“He cheated, I’m sure of it.” It was a bad omen. He turned and wagged his finger at her. “I was at the entrance to the horseshoe, three houses from a lopsided victory—I mean, his ass was trounced. He was huffing and he had nothing left.”
“And yet….” She raised an eyebrow. “If you were trouncing him, how’d you lose?”
“I tripped.” He pulled up the right leg of his jeans to show her the scrape on his knee. “I glanced back to see where he was….”