Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Fuck. “Got it,” I say stiffly.
“It’s not a job that always makes you popular,” Reed adds.
“I should be perfect, then,” Bailey says, and the other guys chuckle.
“But, hey, at least you earn your free room,” Reed says.
“Free room?” I ask, looking up.
Four curious stares look back at me. “You didn’t know about the free room?” asks Jon Munsen, who’s running for secretary. “Almost makes it worth it.”
“Right.” I feel like I’m ten steps behind everyone else. “Yeah, I remember,” I lie.
“Okay, any more questions?” Reed asks. He waits, but nobody brings anything up. “All right. I’m going to go grab the ballot box out of the attic. And we’ll get the chapter meeting started in fifteen minutes or so.”
The room descends into a tense silence.
Well, I’m tense, anyway. Munsen and Edwards are noodling on their phones. Bailey also taps on his phone, looking carefree.
But I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I can no longer remember why I was running for president of Alpha Delt. To please my father, I guess. I wonder what he’ll say when I tell him that Annika dumped me. I can’t even imagine the disappointed look on his face.
And why does that even matter? I’m twenty-one years old, almost twenty-two.
My phone buzzes with a notification. And I can’t believe it, but it’s from the Kink app. I open the phone under the table and find that SinnerThree has sent me a gif. It’s of...a cowboy herding cats across the plain.
May the best asshole win, he writes.
I can’t help myself. I glance up and find him looking at me. And that fucker winks.
Goddamn Bailey. I don’t want to like the guy.
The room starts to fill with my fraternity brothers. They take up all the rest of the seats at the table, and then fill in the window seat and all the standing room along the walls.
“Here we go, guys.” Reed puts a stack of ballots onto the table and then passes more of them around the room. “Oh, and here’s some pencils,” he says, placing a mug of them on the table.
Reed is great at this, I realize. He’s a good president, and patient, too. A real cat-herder.
I glance across the table at Luke, whose chin is resting in his hand. I wonder if he knows he probably can’t win. There are too many football players in the frat, and they’ll vote for me just by default. And I’m friendlier, too. I’ve spent more time playing poker and watching sports in the living room.
Bailey doesn’t. He works a lot, I think. I’m just realizing that he probably has to work all the time just to stay afloat. He told me as much when I was chatting with SinnerThree.
He’s picking his cuticles right now. As if it doesn’t matter whether he wins. But I’m suddenly realizing that it probably matters a great deal to him. The president gets a free room next year.
That part makes no difference to me whatsoever. The rent here isn’t even very high...
“The meeting is called to order,” Reed says calmly. “I thought we’d vote first, just to get the ballots squared away. Does anyone have any questions about the election? It’s a straight majority setup. In the unlikely event of a tie, we revote once and then if that doesn’t clear things up, the sitting officers will break the tie.” He waits. “No questions?”
My heart rate accelerates, and I raise my hand. “Hey, Reed?” Everyone turns to look at me. “I changed my mind.” The rest comes pouring out in a word-vomit of pure relief. “The presidency isn’t really my thing, and I’m probably not the right personality for it. So I’m withdrawing my name from consideration. Still happy to do committee work, but, uh, cross my name off the ballots.”
Judd groans loudly.
Reed only blinks. “You sure, man?”
“Totally,” I say, feeling great for the first time all day. “I got enough on my plate.” And my father can just shove it. If he wants a Hayworth to be president of Alpha Delt, he can re-enroll at Darby and run again.
Fuck his opinion. Fuck everything.
There is an uneasy murmur in the room. And then I make the mistake of glancing over at Luke Bailey. I guess I thought I’d see relief in his eyes. Now the free room is his.
Instead? He’s glaring at me with murder in his eyes.
Mr. President
Luke
There’s no real vote. Nobody else steps up at the last minute to challenge me. After weeks of competing with Keaton for a position I only want because it saves me rent money, I’m dubbed president of Alpha Delta. By pure default.
Resentment roils in my stomach as I sit through the rest of the meeting. Somehow I manage not to vault over the coffee table and drive a fist into Keaton Hayworth’s jaw.