Stupid Boy
Page 5
Several gasps filled the room, and the Deltas exchanged looks. Only Murphy kept her wide brown-eyed gaze on me. Her smile turned positively shady. “Whoa. Are you saying…you want to rule-break, Harper Belle?”
“Not exactly.” I lifted my chin. “We are strong, motivated, goal-oriented women. There isn’t a one of us who have less than a three point nine GPA. We’re not pawns in their stupid frat dares. We tirelessly sponsor events to raise money for our house. For the shelter. And for our various clubs. The Kappas…they’re a drunken joke. I’m tired of it and I for one want them to learn a lesson.”
“Well, let’s hear it,” Murphy urged. Others joined in.
I met the expectant gazes of my sisters. “Bad. Boy. Makeover.”
The sisters stared, silently and questioning at first. Then they all started talking at once, and the room sounded like a hive of bees. Murphy’s gaze was still on mine, and the Cheshire Cat smile slowly stretched across her face. “Brilliant,” she replied.
“So, what are the rules?” Maggie asked.
I thought about it. Straightened. Held their gazes. “Three of us will choose a subject. The absolute baddest, most ridiculously awful guy you can find. Completely reform them. Clean up their act. Teach them manners. Encourage participation in our winter events. Make them fall for you. Get them to divulge their deepest, darkest secrets.” I smiled, held my head high. “Last but not least, they’ll willingly attend our holiday Dash-n-Date. In a suit.”
“Do they have to specifically be a Kappa? You realize how difficult that would be,” Megan Conners said. “They’re all jocks. Most already have girlfriends.”
I thought about that. “Definitely an obstacle. If you find an available Kappa, go for it. Otherwise, target a Kappa affiliate.” There were plenty of those around campus. Guys who weren’t in the fraternity but who hung out with them.
Several rounds of oh’s filled the room, and Murphy spoke up. “Definitely, Harper, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” She grinned. “You should of course be one of the three.”
I nodded. “Absolutely, I second that.” I glanced around. “Who’ll join me?”
Murphy’s hand shot up. No one else’s did. “Thanks, Murphy. Anyone else?” I gave a stern eye to the sisters. “We need one more.”
I stared into the faces of the Deltas. We were known more for our brains, upbringing, and GPA rather than our beer pong prowess or how we might look in a wet T-shirt. We held ourselves on a higher level than most and took pride in everything we represented. How our sorority house had ended up directly across the street from the Kappas—total opposites—would always be a mystery to me.
Finally, a hand rose, and I nodded. “Thank you, Leslie.” I gripped the podium once more, and the cool wood beneath my palms almost soothed my nerves. I didn’t like games. Didn’t care for pranks. Definitely didn’t agree with dares, which is why I didn’t dare suggest public humiliation. In my way of thinking, to emerge the victor, we must truly reform the chosen male. What better way to put the Kappas in their places?
The Kappas just needed to learn they couldn’t treat women like trash. Plain and simple.
“We’ve got six weeks before the Dash-n-Date,” I announced. “So ladies, choose your subjects and get to work.”
As the sisters disassembled, their heads together discussing our latest quest, Murphy sauntered up to me. Her eyes narrowed. One brow shot up.
“You have someone in mind already?” she accused. “Don’t you?”
I looked at her, surprised. “No I do not.” I eyed her curiously. “What about you?”
Her smile revealed a devious plan. “A beastly specimen.” She winked. “The very moment you decide, you must tell me first.”
“All right,” I agreed. “And you do the same.”
I laid awake that night, staring up at the coarse pattern of what looked like popcorn on my ceiling. My mind scoured through the unimpressive number of guys I personally knew. None of them seemed appropriate. I thought of the Kappas. All of them seemed appropriate. But, as it had been pointed out at the chapter meeting, most had girlfriends and, despite my determination to make the Kappas pay for their stupid Dare against Macie and Olivia, I just wasn’t going to interfere with a relationship—no matter how insignificant it might be. Sighing, I turned onto my side, but my thoughts kept me wide awake. I liked it when a task had me preoccupied. It meant the past would leave me alone. At least for a little while.
I’d search tomorrow between classes. Winston was bound to have a pool of what Murphy called beastly gents. I thought about Brax. Even now, he had the look. Only I knew him pretty well and it was simply Brax’s persona. It was who he was. He’d softened a bit, though, since Olivia. Didn’t fight quite as often as he used to. But he definitely still had the look. I thought about it.
The bad boy appearance was incredibly difficult to overlook. They inadvertently wore it like a suit of armor. Not just the clothes they wore, because let’s face it. Bad boys could wear raggedy jeans with holes in the knees or a thousand dollar Armani suit. No. It was the way they carried themselves. Confident. Fearless. Challenging. Obnoxious. A smile tugged at my mouth. Exactly like Brax Jenkins, I supposed. But there weren’t any more Brax Jenkins-types wandering around Winston. He was definitely one of a kind. I sighed. This task would be a little more difficult than I’d thought. But I’d search. I’d look for those obvious qualities. And I’d reform.
“Not exactly.” I lifted my chin. “We are strong, motivated, goal-oriented women. There isn’t a one of us who have less than a three point nine GPA. We’re not pawns in their stupid frat dares. We tirelessly sponsor events to raise money for our house. For the shelter. And for our various clubs. The Kappas…they’re a drunken joke. I’m tired of it and I for one want them to learn a lesson.”
“Well, let’s hear it,” Murphy urged. Others joined in.
I met the expectant gazes of my sisters. “Bad. Boy. Makeover.”
The sisters stared, silently and questioning at first. Then they all started talking at once, and the room sounded like a hive of bees. Murphy’s gaze was still on mine, and the Cheshire Cat smile slowly stretched across her face. “Brilliant,” she replied.
“So, what are the rules?” Maggie asked.
I thought about it. Straightened. Held their gazes. “Three of us will choose a subject. The absolute baddest, most ridiculously awful guy you can find. Completely reform them. Clean up their act. Teach them manners. Encourage participation in our winter events. Make them fall for you. Get them to divulge their deepest, darkest secrets.” I smiled, held my head high. “Last but not least, they’ll willingly attend our holiday Dash-n-Date. In a suit.”
“Do they have to specifically be a Kappa? You realize how difficult that would be,” Megan Conners said. “They’re all jocks. Most already have girlfriends.”
I thought about that. “Definitely an obstacle. If you find an available Kappa, go for it. Otherwise, target a Kappa affiliate.” There were plenty of those around campus. Guys who weren’t in the fraternity but who hung out with them.
Several rounds of oh’s filled the room, and Murphy spoke up. “Definitely, Harper, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” She grinned. “You should of course be one of the three.”
I nodded. “Absolutely, I second that.” I glanced around. “Who’ll join me?”
Murphy’s hand shot up. No one else’s did. “Thanks, Murphy. Anyone else?” I gave a stern eye to the sisters. “We need one more.”
I stared into the faces of the Deltas. We were known more for our brains, upbringing, and GPA rather than our beer pong prowess or how we might look in a wet T-shirt. We held ourselves on a higher level than most and took pride in everything we represented. How our sorority house had ended up directly across the street from the Kappas—total opposites—would always be a mystery to me.
Finally, a hand rose, and I nodded. “Thank you, Leslie.” I gripped the podium once more, and the cool wood beneath my palms almost soothed my nerves. I didn’t like games. Didn’t care for pranks. Definitely didn’t agree with dares, which is why I didn’t dare suggest public humiliation. In my way of thinking, to emerge the victor, we must truly reform the chosen male. What better way to put the Kappas in their places?
The Kappas just needed to learn they couldn’t treat women like trash. Plain and simple.
“We’ve got six weeks before the Dash-n-Date,” I announced. “So ladies, choose your subjects and get to work.”
As the sisters disassembled, their heads together discussing our latest quest, Murphy sauntered up to me. Her eyes narrowed. One brow shot up.
“You have someone in mind already?” she accused. “Don’t you?”
I looked at her, surprised. “No I do not.” I eyed her curiously. “What about you?”
Her smile revealed a devious plan. “A beastly specimen.” She winked. “The very moment you decide, you must tell me first.”
“All right,” I agreed. “And you do the same.”
I laid awake that night, staring up at the coarse pattern of what looked like popcorn on my ceiling. My mind scoured through the unimpressive number of guys I personally knew. None of them seemed appropriate. I thought of the Kappas. All of them seemed appropriate. But, as it had been pointed out at the chapter meeting, most had girlfriends and, despite my determination to make the Kappas pay for their stupid Dare against Macie and Olivia, I just wasn’t going to interfere with a relationship—no matter how insignificant it might be. Sighing, I turned onto my side, but my thoughts kept me wide awake. I liked it when a task had me preoccupied. It meant the past would leave me alone. At least for a little while.
I’d search tomorrow between classes. Winston was bound to have a pool of what Murphy called beastly gents. I thought about Brax. Even now, he had the look. Only I knew him pretty well and it was simply Brax’s persona. It was who he was. He’d softened a bit, though, since Olivia. Didn’t fight quite as often as he used to. But he definitely still had the look. I thought about it.
The bad boy appearance was incredibly difficult to overlook. They inadvertently wore it like a suit of armor. Not just the clothes they wore, because let’s face it. Bad boys could wear raggedy jeans with holes in the knees or a thousand dollar Armani suit. No. It was the way they carried themselves. Confident. Fearless. Challenging. Obnoxious. A smile tugged at my mouth. Exactly like Brax Jenkins, I supposed. But there weren’t any more Brax Jenkins-types wandering around Winston. He was definitely one of a kind. I sighed. This task would be a little more difficult than I’d thought. But I’d search. I’d look for those obvious qualities. And I’d reform.
