The next day was a formal meet and greet with the brothers of Beta Beta Chi. I thought about just skipping and giving up on that fraternity, but I was getting the feeling that the other frats had no interest in me. I'd promise my dad that I'd join one and I didn't want to hear a lecture, so I dragged my ass over to the house wearing dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie. Of course, the first person I saw was Mr. DB standing at the entrance greeting potential members. I started sweating:
Had he somehow seen me?
Had his fuck buddy told him about the creepy rush that had stood at the door watching?
Had they seen how hard I'd gotten?
When I finally got to the top of the stairs, Mr. DB barely looked my way, saying, "Welcome," in a bored voice. I couldn't pass him fast enough. The rest of the meet and greet passed in a blur. I was too busy worrying and trying to avoid any one on one conversation with Mr. DB (I really should start calling him by his name). Eventually I was able to calm down once I realized that he was showing no specific interest in me. Even during the interview process that he held with a few brothers. At the end of it I was able to walk away with a name for DB (Todd) and an invitation to join the frat tomorrow for a party they were having to bring in the new semester. An invite that was extended to all the guys rushing. I silently thanked God and Todd's fuck buddy (boyfriend?) for not ratting me out.
True to form, my luck ran out the next day. I was rushing to my personal hell, Organic Chemistry, when I ran into a brick wall. Of course, said brick wall turned out to be the last person I wanted to see.
The black guy I'd caught fucking Todd two days ago was leaning against a wall, partially blocking the tight hallway that led to the lecture hall. "Hey Tom," he said.
"Um," I stammered, "My name isn't Tom?"
He laughed, looked me up and down, and asked, "Is that a question, Tom?"
"It's Brian. My name's Brian," I said, a bit firmer this time.
"Weird, always thought the saying was 'Peeping Tom', not 'Peeping Brian'," he said with a chuckle.
Fuck!
"I'm sorry...?"
"Jake," he provided.
"Um, right. Well, I'm late for class, Jake, so I need to get moving. It was nice meeting you," I said as I tried to brush pass him.
He completely ignored me and continued, "Did you enjoy the show, Tom?"
"Um, not sure what you're talking about." Innocent until proven guilty, right?
He laughed, leaned closer, and lowered his voice, "You know, the show where I was stuffing my huge dick up your potential President's ass?"
"The show that had your dick so hard that I could see it tenting your pants from afar."
I shook my head in denial.
"Of course you did and I bet you scurried home to tug on that little dick of yours too."
Shit!
My face must have confirmed what he already knew because he laughed again and said, "I knew it. You white boys are so predictable. See a powerful black man and you turn into a drooling, horny slut."
At this point he had gotten so close to me that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Any closer and I knew for sure I'd feel his dick pressing into me.
"Look, like I said, not sure what you're talking about. I need to get to class."
He continued staring me down, but then stepped aside with a smile.
I rushed pass him and hurried into class. Fifty minutes later I still heard the words he had thrown at me as I'd pass him, "I'm going to have so much fun with you, Brian."
....
Later that day I spent 30 minutes trying to talk myself out of going to the party. I came up with all the excuses in the book: I had laundry to do, my room to clean, homework to catch up on, an upcoming exam to study for, etc.
In the end the decision was made for me when I saw an incoming call from my dad. I reluctantly answered, spent about 10 minutes getting talked at, and then got my ass out of bed and got dressed. The topic of fraternities hadn't come up, but the thought of that 10-minute conversation turning into 20 if I wasn't offered a spot in a frat had me reluctantly walking through the doors of Beta Beta Chi.
The smell of alcohol almost knocked me over as soon as I opened the front door. There were red cups everywhere (how clichΓ©) and I could see a bar stationed in the corner of the room. I immediately headed that way. I'd never been much of a drinker (especially not in the middle of the week), but I'd learned early on that people who were drinking took it as a personal insult if you weren't doing the same. It didn't take long for me to figure out that if I had a cup in hand, half full (so it looked like I was drinking but didn't need a refill), I wouldn't be pressured through the night to have a drink.
I got a cup of whatever cheap concoction the frat brother behind the bar had come up with and took a big gulp. Mainly to get it to the halfway part, but also in hopes that it'd help calm my nerves. I then looked around the room in hopes of finding someone who didn't look too intimidating to talk to.