Fallen Fourth Down (Fallen Crest #4)(75)
The street was full of cars when I got to the house. As I found a spot and headed towards the house, I heard cheering from the backyard. Rounding the side of the house, I saw a large crowd had formed behind it.
A loud horn sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers. They flung their fists in the air. A few guys dumped their cups over their head, drenching themselves in beer. They let out a primal sounding cry as they shook their heads in a frenzy.
“Ladies…and the rest of you ladies,” a voice boomed through a microphone, “we are here for the Rival Revelry Rally because we are going to what?”
The arms shot up in the air again and a collective sound went out, “Revel!”
“That’s right, folks and Greek brothers! We may be in rival houses, but under the system, under the national blanket of our fellow houses, we are all brothers at heart. Am I right?”
I started through the crowd. As I did, I could see a guy standing on a platform set above the crowd. With his last question, he held the microphone to the crowd, and they yelled back, “No!”
He brought the microphone back and asked again, smirking, “What was that?”
“No. No. No,” the crowd chanted.
“No what?”
“No to brothers!” The crowd yelled out their responses at different moments, but the guy next to me grumbled, “I’m not saying I’m a brother to those Alpha Omega’s. No fucking way. Is Dusty nuts?”
His friend elbowed him in the side. “Just go with him. You know he’s leading to something big.”
“No way.”
Dusty gripped the microphone, bringing to his mouth once again. “All right, ladies and gents. If you’re not Greek brothers at heart, then what are you?”
“RIVALS!”
The sound was loud and yelled with such force, the air switched. It’d been light and fun, but a deeper feeling came over the group. It was intense. When I glimpsed the fierce determination in a couple of the guys’ faces, I knew there was a history between Nate’s fraternity and this other one.
“YOU’RE RIGHT! WE’RE RIVALS AND WE’RE GOING TO REVEL AND WE’RE GOING TO RALLY TONIGHT. AREN’T WE?” Dusty shouted into his microphone.
“HELL YEAH, WE ARE!”
A chant started, “RIVAL. REVEL. RALLY. RIVAL. REVEL. RALLY.” It kept going, but I ignored it, skimming the crowd. I saw Nate on the back porch and started for him.
“AND GO! FIGHT, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!” A whistle sounded, and the cheering intensified. People began pounding their feet. I turned back, startled at the ferocity that had come over everyone, and saw two guys had started to circle each other below the platform. One threw a punch and the other countered.
The two houses kept going crazy.
They were having their own boxing match. Stepping around the last group, I covered the two steps to the patio. Nate had seen me. He was standing in a corner, tucked in the back with his brothers. He made no move to meet me. With lawn chairs between us, a couch, plus his friends, I couldn’t get any closer. I lifted my hands up in a questioning gesture. His chest lifted, fell back down, and a reluctant expression came over him. He said something to the guy closest to him. They moved and he was able to get out to me. As he did, I stepped back. We didn’t say a word as he led the way inside. We didn’t go to a room. He went to the front of the house. After the door shut behind us, a loud cry came from the back of the house.
I grinned. “You guys volunteer to go in the ring?”
Nate rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “No. It depends on the match. This one went to the best fighter in the house. When we fight each other, you’re picked if you lose at a different competition. All part of hazing.”
He sat on a chair, and I leaned against the railing. “You guys are still hazing?”
“Yep. It’s pretty much all year.”
“I see.” I didn’t ask how it had been for him. There were red marks on his neck. A couple bruises had appeared over his cheek, and his eye was swollen. I ran a hand over my hair and gestured to his. “They made you cut your hair?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced.
It was short, almost as short as mine. Nate kept his black hair longer than mine, enough so he could spike it when he wanted the badass look. From his reaction, I was guessing the haircut hadn’t been his choice.
“Look, I’m sorry I brought Marissa to the lunch,” he said abruptly. Kicking out his leg, he rested it on the railing a few feet from me. His chin lowered to his chest, and he looked straight ahead. The corners of mouth were strained. “I fucked up. Again. I was pissed at you about Park. I like him. He’s a big fucking deal with my fraternity, and this is important to me.”
“What’s important to you?”
“This.” He gestured around him. “All of this and you’re fucking with it.”
“How?”
“Because.” His feet kicked off the railing and he jerked forward. His elbows slammed down onto his knees, but he still didn’t look at me. “You just are. I mean, would it kill you to be friends with Park? He’s not a bad guy.”
“To you.”
“What?” A wary look filtered over his features.
“He’s not a bad guy to you.”
“What does that mean?”