Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Marty cringes. “What? Yeah, of course, I know you wouldn’t. I’m saying you shouldn’t be goofing around like that when we’re about to be late.”
The challenge doesn’t start for another hour, but for some events—like today—some guys from each frat need to show up early to help set up the venue.
“So come on,” Marty says. “You can talk when we get back about how Ash would never have fucked Lance even if he was the only available man on the planet.”
“Aw, douche,” I snap.
“Yes, I am clean and useful, thank you very much. Now, Payton, just grab one of them, and I’ll get the other. Let’s get them to the car. The guys put me in charge of getting you all to the venue on time.”
Of course the guys would choose Marty. He’s the goodie-goodie of Alpha Theta Mu.
But we’re not leaving yet.
“You’re not in your G-string.” I motion to his shorts.
“They’re obviously under these.”
It’s a well-established tradition that the skimpier the outfits, the more of a boss move it is to show up at the venue sporting them like it’s no big deal. This is something my buddy Marty is aware of. We’re not gonna be the guys changing out of shorts and jackets in the parking lot like a bunch of cowards. We’re fucking Alpha Theta Mu.
Marty drops trou and tosses his shorts at me. “Happy?”
“Much better,” I say, and then the four of us drive to the location.
The TaskFrat challenges are typically at one of the Peach State frat houses, but once in a while we’ll have a special occasion when it’s held at another venue. For the debut game this year, we’re meeting at the local park a few blocks away. When we arrive at the parking lot, the place is packed. It’s a full-blown pre-TaskFrat tailgate.
“Kind of early for this,” Payton says, since people don’t usually start arriving during setup.
“You sure we got the time right?” Marty asks from the driver’s seat. Payton scrolls through his phone.
“We definitely got the time right,” Ash says.
I notice the guys from the other frats are wearing regular tees and board shorts.
They would never…
“You think we misread the dress code?” Marty asks.
“No,” I say curtly, since I know for a goddamn fact that I wouldn’t have misread that.
“What is going on?” Marty asks. “Why aren’t the other guys wearing this? You think they have them on under their shorts?”
“Nope,” I say.
“The fuck?” Payton says.
I already know exactly what’s going on.
And I suspect I know who’s to blame as I recall a comment my Sigma Alpha archnemesis offered at the last TaskFrat Challenge Committee meeting: “Wear something pretty for me at the next challenge, okay?”
“Ty Lancaster,” I say through my teeth.
“What?” Ash asks. “How would he have done this?”
“He’s buddies with Morgan Frax, Omega Psi’s guy who’s in charge of sending out the tasks. Ty must’ve talked him into doing it.”
“I’m not getting out of the car,” Marty says as he parks.
“Oh, come on,” Payton says.
Marty points out the window. “They’ve got their phones out and looking this way. They’ve been told this is what’s gonna happen.”
Marty’s right. It seems everyone’s noticed our arrival, and they’re already chuckling, clearly anticipating the big reveal.
Heat stirs in my chest and flares in my cheeks. “I can’t believe that asshole duped us like this. And I fell right for it.”
Even worse, I’m jealous that it’s a damn good prank. When he’s good, he’s good.
“Hey,” Ash says. “This isn’t your fault. Someone had to prank us. And we got them last year.”
And we got them good too, thanks to the help of one of our guys’ beloved family pet hog, Jasper. Jasper is like a people-person—a people-hog, I guess—but that’s hard to tell when all two hundred and fifty pounds of him are tearing toward you. We let him loose in the Sigma Alpha house during Greek Week. We’d already sprayed the guys’ costumes with lavender, which apparently Jasper adores. So all the frats and sororities had to do was set up lawn chairs and enjoy the show as Sigma Alphas with ripped togas or in the buff hauled ass from their house like they were running from Michael Myers.
“And what we’re wearing is not that weird for a TaskFrat event,” Ash adds.
He’s right, but at least when we’ve worn Speedos, all the other frats were wearing the same.
“Do we have time to go back to the house?” Marty asks. “Or maybe I can get someone to bring us a change of clothes.”
“We’re barely on time as it is,” Payton says.
“They clearly don’t need us for setup,” Marty adds.
It’s true, but in the back of my mind, I hear a familiar voice, one that’s with me every day, here for me, encouraging me along.
“Sometimes you just gotta own it.”
“We have to own it,” I say, the way he would have.