I’m not sure which one of us he’s talking to.
Jordan grabs my hand and pushes me toward the dark-haired boy. “This is my sister, Jemma,” she tells him. “It’s her first time. Be nice to her.”
A strange look crosses his face, and then he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Fresh meat.”
The boys on the roof howl, and this time, I can’t stop laughing at how stupid this is. A group of guys on the porch also howl in unison, so I assume they all belong to the fraternity.
He grabs my hand, and I tug it away from him. “What are you doing? Is this some weird initiation thing?”
He laughs, a smile on his lips, and then he looks at Jordan. “You sure she’s cool?”
Not the least bit wounded by his comment, I snicker.
Jordan steps forward, her hands on her hips, and his eyes follow. She cups his knee with her hand and smiles. “Give her a break, Romeo.”
Romeo? I try so damn hard not to laugh. A guy who calls himself Romeo just insulted me. Tonight is becoming priceless by the second. From the looks of Romeo, he’s not all that charming. More like a dick. But a cute one.
Romeo nods and takes Jordan’s hand, placing a green stamp on her skin. I strain to get a better look, but he commands me to give him my hand and marks my skin with three Greek letters before I can.
After Romeo stamps each of our hands, he calls over four of his fraternity brothers, who lead us into the house. The music is even louder inside, a classic rock beat mixed with a new rap song cranking through the speakers. A large bass in the corner pounds, the vibration from the music sending a tremor up my legs.
In the massive living room, people are grinding on each other. Girls in string bikinis with their asses on full display practically hump a few guys in the middle of the floor.
Once we reach the kitchen, the guys who helped us through the crowd stop in front of a long bar spanning the room’s right side. A tall guy with dark brown hair and a thick chest commands the bartender’s attention. He nods and then retrieves a stack of red Solo cups from beneath the bar, placing them on top of the wood. The bartender fills our cups with beer, passing them around, and I watch his every move. I’ve heard rumors about fraternity parties. I’m not taking any chances.
“You okay?”
A cute guy with shaggy brown hair appears at my side. I look up at him, stunned by his question.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look ready to jump out of your skin,” he mutters.
I shrug, unsure of what gave him the impression. Am I acting that weird? “I’m fine.”
They pass beers to us. I take a sip from the cup as if I’m desperate for a drink—anything to avoid making conversation with this guy about my apparent awkwardness.
“What’s your name?” he asks me. I tell him, and then he offers his. “Professor.”
I stare up at him, perplexed by his strange nickname. “Why do people call you Professor?”
“Just a name my brothers gave me when I pledged.”
“Because he’s smart,” one guy says from behind us.
“More like a smartass,” another says, laughing.
I chuckle at their comments. Fraternity guys are… different. Less than ten minutes into this party, I’ve already met Romeo and Professor. Who’s next? I laugh on the inside, making a private joke about how silly all of this is.
Jordan and her friends are talking to three guys, which leaves me with Professor, who hasn’t left my side. I still want to laugh but somehow keep a straight face.
“I’ve never seen you around,” Professor says, speaking over the loud music.
“I’m a transfer student.”
He nods. “Is this your first frat party?”
“Yes,” I say between sips.
