Without it, I wouldn’t be able to dance, attend college, teach.
Pay for the much-needed therapy required to undo years of childhood trauma.
So fuck diet culture, fat shaming assholes, and body dysmorphia.
I’m a fine ass woman with banging curves and tonight I’m going to shake it off like the Queen of Pop herself.
I toss my hair over my shoulder, lift my chin, and strut like I’m working the damn catwalk.
Me-ow.
A few heads turn my way as I approach Sig Chi, but my eyes are fixed straight ahead. The frat house, a brick behemoth with a wide front porch and thick white columns, would put Times Square to shame. Lights glow in every window and the pulse of music drifts from the open front door, the thumping bass a siren song for bad decisions.
There are people everywhere. On the porch. In the grass. On the freaking roof.
What have I gotten myself into?
Sweat beads along my brow and I silently curse myself for agreeing to a night on Greek Row. After all, it’smybirthday. If I’d said I wanted to hit the Diner or catch a movie, Jenna would’ve agreed.
But no, I had to slip back into my people pleasing ways because she’s crushing on some frat bro who probably goes by Tripp, only wears Lacoste, and isn’t worth a second of her time.
You could always text her and say you aren’t feeling well.
Yeah, right. She’d see right through my bullshit.
It’s fine. I’ll have a few drinks and then I can duck out and—
The heel of my stiletto slips between the cracks in the sidewalk and I careen forward, arms flailing.
“Sonofabitch!”
I manage to avoid face-planting on the sidewalk—go me!—but the victory is short-lived. My stupid freaking heel is wedged in that crack like a thong that’s two sizes too small.
Becauseof courseit is.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I bend over, ass on full display as I wrestle with my shoe. “Is this karma? Am I being punished for being late? Because if so, I’m pretty sure birthday rules apply. Like, you get a free pass or whatever.”
Aaand…now I’m talking to myself.
I let out a string of curses that would make a barfly blush and jerk my foot so hard the strap of my shoe cuts off circulation to my toes.
Spoiler alert: the little fucker doesn’t budge.
“Happy birthday to me.” I sigh and wipe the sweat from my brow. “First Nora, now this?”
At least the night can’t get any worse.
2
BRADY
Greek Row is a madhouse.The treelined street may look stately and conservative by the light of day, but when the sun sets, all bets are off. It’s practically a mecca for students looking to get wasted and have a good time. Thanks to today’s win over Idaho, the crowds are even more intense than usual as my boys and I make our way down the block.
“This is going to be a shit show,” Reid says, narrowing his eyes as we approach Sig Chi.
“Or it’s going to be the greatest night of our lives,” Coop shoots back with his usual swagger. “Loud music, cold beer, gorgeous women. What more could you ask for?”
Reid, ever the pragmatist, just shakes his head.
