sigh heavily and whisper comments about stuck-up Double Deltsies. And so it began—being judged by the house I was in.
We stopped at Em's dorm next. Made two more stops and we were on the road to the river, rocking out to loud music, generally high from bid day.
The drive took over half an hour through wheat fields to barren desert until the road wound along the river. I barely noticed as I tried to fit in with the girls. Everyone was in full makeup with hair styled to perfection. That was a Double Deltsie rule—no going out without full hair and makeup. Leah blasted the air conditioning, when I would have loved to feel the wind from an open window through my hair. We pulled into a parking lot next to another car from the house and tumbled out.
Leah ran a cool eye over us. "Girls!" She sounded like a housemother. "You're Double Deltsies now!" She pulled her T-shirt off and stashed it in a stylish beach bag she pulled from the trunk, revealing a bright yellow bikini and a perfect body. "Follow me. The house guys saved us a spot."
She led the way, walking with the confidence of a model. The park pulsed with music. Smelled like beer, suntan lotion, and hot bodies. And radiated with life.
Off in the distance, people were jumping off the cliffs into the river below.
As we walked through the grass to our party spot, it became clear what being a Double Deltsie meant—total hot-girl status. Dating a Double Deltsie was prestigious. Groups of independent guys, Geeds, and frat parties with their new pledges turned to leer at us. They whistled and called out lewd invitations like construction workers on a job site.
We followed Leah's lead, walking with confidence. Ignoring most of the attention as too far above it. Leah knew her way around the park and the social strata. She also seemed to know someone in every frat group. She called out to some. Flirted with others and ignored the rest.
"The guys from Sigma Upsilon"—she rolled her eyes and made a disgusted face—"animals. All hands. Watch out for them."
She laughed. "The guys over there, the Lambda Rhos?" She nodded toward them. "Totally beneath us. Misfits. Douchebags."
A guy caught her attention. She waved to him with a big smile. "And there are a few, a very few, independents who are hot and worth hanging with. There's one, our student body president."
Another guy waved to her from a sea of Double Deltsie T-shirts. He was tall, blond, and built. With a chiseled jaw and snapping blue eyes. Abs to die for.
She waved back with enthusiasm and a sparkle in her eyes. "There we are! Seth!" She whispered to us as an aside. "One of our houseboys. Seth is simply irresistible. If he wasn't working for us, I would do him repeatedly. Stay away from him. He'll get you in trouble." She spoke like she knew from experience.
"Our houseboys are some of the hottest guys on campus." She sighed. "And off limits to all you pledges. If anyone asks, I warned you. I can't emphasize this enough—they're supposed to be like our brothers. Sleeping with one can get you expelled from the house on moral grounds."
She shook her head. "Yeah. Antiquated crap, but it's in the rules. Pay your dues. Keep your grades up. Participate in house events. Maintain the house image. And, most importantly, don't screw the houseboys. And you'll be golden." She turned her gaze back to Seth.
Seth stood next to two other good-looking guys. But Zach, who was standing a small distance away from them in the shade of a tree, caught my full attention. He was shirtless, with a beach towel draped over his shoulder. His tat was more obvious now, an inscription of some sort, like a date. And maybe a tiny angel and a heart? Hard to tell for sure from this distance. It seemed kind of out of character for a definitely hetero guy like him. He wore baggy swim trunks and flip-flops. Despite Leah's dire warning, it was all I could do not to stare openly at him.
"Paul and Dillon are standing next to Seth,"