#Junkie (GearShark #1)(15)

“That’s not an answer!” Colley yelled out.

Everyone laughed.

I smiled fast, then sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “You guys will know as soon as I do,” I said, then banged the gavel that always sat on the podium. “Let the brothers’ party begin!”

No one needed to be told twice they could go and get a beer. I waited where I was while all the guys stampeded out of the room toward the keg and stereo system.

I wasn’t feeling much like partying tonight, but I’d fake it.

I’d gotten real good at faking things.

“You know you’re going to have to back one of us at some point,” Con said, not looking at me, but out over the room.

Jack was still standing on my other side. He turned toward us with interest when Con spoke.

“The way I see it,” I began, addressing them both, “the longer I wait to weigh in, the more even the election will be. You both will have the same opportunity to win over the house without my influence.”

“I can respect that.” Con nodded. “At least then the elected prez will know he won because he earned it and not just because you said so.”

I nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me…” Con continued. “I have some campaigning to do.”

The room was almost completely empty now, so I started forward, thinking of making a beeline to the keg.

“You underestimate the power you have in this house.” Jack’s words stopped me.

I swung around to look at him. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a polo shirt with the house insignia on it. His dark hair was short on the sides, but the top was slightly longer and styled over to the side.

Drew’s hair looked similar when he styled it, which wasn’t often. Usually, he just ran his hands through it and called it a day.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You brought this house back from the brink of Zach’s disaster. I barely knew the guy, but his rep is still very well known, the things he did—”

“I’m well aware of the shit he pulled.” I cut him off, my voice terse. I wasn’t about to relive any of what he’d done to anyone. Most of all Drew’s sister. What she’d gone through at the hands of that psycho…

Jack understood clearly I had no desire to talk about him, and he nodded. “We all trust you, Trent. You’ve been a good president. I know you’ve got to be tired. Not only have you pioneered the rebranding of this frat, but you’ve played football and gone to classes. And you still somehow have time to do some racing.”

“I’m not a racer.” I disagreed.

Jack half smiled. “Maybe not, but you hang with one.”

The image of Drew grinning at me from behind the wheel of his Fastback sort of commandeered my thoughts. I didn’t somehow have time for racing with Drew.

I made time.

“Anyway, all I’m saying is pushing the house in one direction or another might be a good thing. It might give you a better feel for how the house will be once you’re no longer in charge.”

He had a point. A good one. Throwing my support behind one of the candidates would give me a different perspective on how that man would be in a position of power and also how the house would respond toward following him.

“You’re hoping I support you,” I said, blunt.

“Of course,” Jack said. “I think I’ve made it clear I want the presidency.”

“What if I support Con and not you?”

Jack shrugged. “I hope you don’t. But if you do, I’ll respect it because I know you’re going to do what you think is best for this house.”

He looked in my eyes, holding himself with pride.

I believed him.

I pondered his words a little more as I socialized with some of my brothers and drank a beer. I also watched Jack and Con with the other guys in the house. You could tell a lot about a man by the way he treated the other people around him.

Especially when there was alcohol involved.

Sometimes it brought out the truth in ways nothing else could.

I was only halfway into my first beer when one of the guys motioned for me over near the entryway. The music was loud, so when I made it to his side, he just pointed to the front door.

Great. It was probably freaking campus security responding to a noise complaint.

I pulled open the door enough to stick my head out, making sure to keep my cup out of sight, expecting to see grim-faced men in uniform.

There was only one man.

And there wasn’t a single thing about his face I would ever consider grim.

“Drew?” I said, surprised.

He was dressed in a pair of destructed faded jeans and a slim-fit black hoodie with a grey design all across the left shoulder and into the chest area. It almost looked like his shirt had a badass tattoo.

His hair was actually styled into a messier version of Jack’s, and the dimple in his cheek was on full display.

“What’s up, frat boy?” he greeted me, his smile doubling.

I hated when he called me that. He knew it and that’s why he was smiling so hard.

I slipped out the door onto the front porch. Out here the music was a lot more muffled, thankfully. At least now I wouldn’t have to worry about a noise violation.

“Thanks for that,” I cracked. “If you hadn’t just opened your mouth and said something stupid, I wouldn’t have known it was you.” I reached out toward his styled hair and made a sound. “Dayy-uum, is that gel? Hairspray? You’re looking awful purty tonight.”