Frat House Confessions

6. Karrie

Six

Karrie

“I’m starting to think you have a serious problem and need, like, an intervention or something,” Ermina said as I laced up my Doc Martins.

“Mina, I’m fine, I swear,” I assured her.

“But, you’re going to Delta house, right? Dressed like that?” she asked, waving her hand over me in distaste.

I sighed.

“Yes, but, it’s not what you think … I’ll explain it all later, I promise, but right now, I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

“Would you at least put on some lipstick? Mascara? Please?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“Next time, promise,” I said as I hurried out the door. She was still frowning at me as I closed it behind me.

Checking my phone, I swore when I saw the time and hurried to my bicycle.

Ten minutes later, I swung into the Delta driveaway, ignored all the stares from well-dressed frat boys and their dowdy-looking dates, and parked my bike on the side of the house.

“Did you just ride here on a bike?”

I finished putting the kickstand down and glanced up to see Ridge leaning on the side of the house.

“Why are you always leaning on walls?” I asked, ignoring his question, because surely it was rhetorical.

“It accentuates my length and gives me the chance to watch everyone around me,” he answered, pushing off and walking closer.

Not wanting to be overly predictable, I fought back an eye roll and simply scowled at him.

Ridge stopped in front of me, looked me up and down, and smirked.

“What?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Well, you can keep the Docs, but the rest of it…”

“You told me to dress down so the makeover would look miraculous, or whatever. You should be happy.”

“You realize we’ve only met three times, and you’ve been wearing that same T-shirt every time, don’t you?”

I looked down, then shrugged and said, “It’s comfortable.”

“I hope you at least wash it…”

“Obviously. Just because I like comfort doesn’t mean I’m dirty.”

Seriously, this f*****g guy.

“And, sweatpants?” Ridge asked, glaring at said pants. “Sweatpants are okay on Sunday mornings, or when the Dodgers lose the World Series, but I have a feeling this is every day normal attire for you.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t all have to be Mr. GQ twenty-four seven,” I shot back.

“When I look good, I feel good about myself. It’s about confidence, and feeling my best. You should try it,” he replied, not rising to my bait.

I huffed and felt my shoulders droop.

“I used to, ya know,” I said, looking past him, not wanting to meet those eyes. “I used to take care with how I looked, then Drake dumped me out of nowhere and I didn’t see the point. After time, this became like my uniform, and eventually, my armor. Dressed this way, I know guys will leave me alone, and honestly, it’s easier that way. There’s no way I’m putting myself out there again, not after Drake.”

“Hey,” Ridge said softly, his fingers grasping my chin, urging me to look at him. “Don’t give that asshole any more power than he’s already had. f**k him. He’s in the past, now it’s time for you to focus on the future. Let’s get this s**t over with tonight and then both of our plans will be set in motion. I promise, by the time we’re done with you, Drake’s going to be begging you to take him back.”

“As if,” I scoffed.

Because, honestly, there was no f*****g way Drake could ever make up for what he did to me.

“That’s right, and we both know it’s right, but Drake doesn’t. He’s too much of a tool to realize his actions have consequences, but I for one am looking forward to teaching him that lesson.”

I smiled up at Ridge.

“Me, too,” I replied, then looked around and asked, “He’s not going to be here tonight though, right?”

Ridge shook his head.

“Deltas and the girls they’re entering into the comp only.”

I nodded and couldn’t deny I felt relief.

Ridge offered his arm and asked, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied, tucking my arm around his.

“Let’s do this.”

We rounded the house and started up the stairs.

“Pledge!” Ridge shouted to no one in particular.

An eager-looking blonde guy came running over. “Yes, Sarg?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Ridge said, before turning his attention to me and asking, “What’ll you have?”

“Beer.”

“Two beers from my stash,” he told the pledge, who nodded before turning and hurrying off.

“Poor guy,” I murmured as I watched him go. “I could have gotten my own beer.”

“Nah, that’s what the pledges are here for. It’s like a rite of passage. Believe me, I served plenty of beer back in my day.”

We walked inside and I noticed that most everyone had moved into the house. There were guys wearing “pledge” shirts, along with the older, well-dressed guys, who were obviously already part of the frat.

Scattered throughout the rooms were the girls the pledges brought, all looking their worst, with eyes downcast and shoulders hunched, as if they were embarrassed to be seen out in public.

“These girls all know why they’re here, right?” I asked Ridge, thinking I was about to lose my s**t if they were here under false pretenses.

“Yeah, killer, don’t worry, even Crush isn’t that much of a prick. It’s all in good fun,” he whispered back, leaning down so that I felt his hot breath against my ear.

A shiver ran through me.

God, he smells good.

“You okay? Cold? I can run up and grab you a hoodie,” Ridge offered.

I looked up to see if he was messing with me, but he wasn’t even looking at me, he was surveying the room. It appeared his offer had been completely genuine and he hadn’t noticed my reaction to him.

Thank goodness. The last thing I needed was for Ridge to think I was even remotely attracted to him. This was a strictly professional relationship. Him smelling good, keeping his room clean, and acting like an occasional gentleman was just a bonus.

“No, I’m good, but thanks.”

“Here you go, Sarg, do you need anything else?”

The pledge was back.

I accepted the bottle of Stella and said, “Thanks,” to the pledge, before glancing up at Ridge and saying, “Fancy.”

“Only the best, baby,” Ridge said with a wink.

Annnnd … we’re back to eye-rolling.