at the strip club, I think the stripper likes me! (Ch3)
summary: reader and frat!Caleb share a... study session? more stupid banter during lecture. reader and Tara find themselves at the Chi Sigma Wave house for a cute little kickback.
rating: this series will have eventual smut. 18+ minors dni!!
cw: profanity. banter. reader lowkey bullies Caleb. drunk and handsy. brief mentions of masturbation. intoxication. drinking games. reader wears a bikini. heavy making out. petting. Caleb gets hard. not proof read because idgaf😁
wc: 13.7k
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9:43pm
(xxx-xxx-xxxx): When are you free to study?
His text coming through after you just nearly came to a mere photo of him is like rubbing salt in the wound. You feel like your body has betrayed your mind.
Staring at the notification on your home screen, remembering your plan. You need to look disinterested. Dead end. Mean bitch. Hovering over the message app, hesitating.
A disinterested person wouldn’t respond right away. But it’s getting late, and you have to be up early for the lecture tomorrow.
You could wait til the morning to text back? But then you’re basically just gonna see him in person, might as well discuss it then. Tara’s comment runs through your head. He’s not afraid of confrontation, and that’s not a battle you can win.
Fuck! It’s like he’s constantly 10 steps ahead of you! He’s completed narrowed down your options. Either look desperate and message him back right away, or brave the storm that is Caleb Xia in person, at 7am tomorrow.
Maybe he'll just assume you respond so quickly because it's late, and you're going to bed? That's not desperation, just coincidence, right? Right! He just happened to text you while you were on your phone! Doing nothing suspicious or perverted at all!
you: hey
you: i have a couple hours to kill right after lecture tomorrow? we could hit the lib or smth
Because nothing kills a boner faster than a 9am study session in the stuffy, dark university library! You fire the text off, hoping he can read between the lines. His response comes faster than you expect.
caleb: I've got a dynamics lecture right after :/ Wyd thursday 4pm?
4pm!? He might as well of just asked you for nudes!
you: nah ive got plans w my friends already. nights don't really work for me anyways
Quickly shutting down that road for him, you smirk as you send off the message. A moment or two later, his rebuttal arrives.
caleb: What about this weekend?
you: same thing, busy at night
you: and the lib isn't open on weekends
You're making it as difficult for him as you possibly can. It's hard not to feel a sense of pride.
caleb: We could go somewhere else
caleb: My buddy is a barista at astras if you're a coffee person
Wait. Coffee? Is he suggesting a morning study session? In a public space?
You stare at the message. He's gone totally off script. You were expecting to have to fight tooth and nail to convince him to meet you while the sun was still up. And here he is, doing the complete opposite?
It's a trap. It has to be. You don't know what he's scheming, and that's terrifying. What if Astras isn't open on the weekends, and you arrive at the closed coffee shop only for him to shrug his perfect shoulders and say, looks like we have to go to my place! Then the time of day doesn't even matter, you end up alone at his apartment! The intrusive thought has you googling Astras hours of operation. Nope. Just like any normal coffee spot, they are open bright and early on the weekends.
Maybe he shows up without a charger, and his laptop isn't compatible with yours, so he takes you back to his under the guise of grabbing his cord. One thing leads to another and you're alone in his room!
A hundred different scenarios play in your head, all of them ending in him getting you by your lonesome. Fuck! Is he seriously that manipulative or are you that paranoid? You realize just how long you've been dissociating when he sends you another message.
caleb: They have matcha too if that's your thing
His kindness is a ruse. He is trying to get you to lower your guard, there's no other explanation!
But, lower your guard into agreeing to a study session at a local cafe? During the day?
You want to believe he has ulterior motives. That this is all some game to make you just another name on his list. But the version of himself he's presenting to you just isn't lining up with that. You're being tugged in two different directions, and you don't know which side is going to yield first. Opening his message, you type out your response.
you: i can do astras at 10 on saturday
His reply comes questionably fast.
caleb: Works for me :) See you tomorrow
Right. You still have to face this freak at least two more times before Saturday. There is this sense of defeat in your chest as you shift back under your bed sheets. Defeat, even though your planned study session with him meets the criteria you set for yourself. Public setting. Daytime. You tuck your comforter up to your chin as you try not to pick apart every detail of the interaction.
Shuffling through the musty lecture building at 6:50am, you think there isn't anywhere on this planet that would be less enjoyable than this class. You're half awake, makeup haphazardly applied, hair pulled back into a messy updo. Bracing yourself for the impact of sticky lecture hall air as you push open one side of the double doors.
Calebs already in his seat, right next to yours. Airpods in and doing whatever on his phone. He's in a navy blue sweatshirt, university logo across the chest. Black athletic shorts hug meaty thighs spread on the wooden folding seat.
He's never beat you here. You trudge up the steps, and his attention snaps to you.
"Morning." He greets, pulling his headphones out and watching as you slump into your chair.
"You're here early." You clip, digging through your bag for your iPad.
"My systems professor makes us turn in our problem sets to the boxes in the engineering building, and I'm in lectures during the collection time." He reasons, so coolly. Of course he has a valid explanation. You hum in response. "Rough morning?"
"Any morning that starts before 8am is a rough morning." You snort, and he huffs in response. He's abandoned looking at his phone as he watches you pull up some reading on your iPad.
"Whatcha working on today?"
"2-D and nano materials."
"EE's have to take that?"
"No, I'm a materials science minor."
"Damn, busy girl." You bite back a grin at the compliment. "How is it?"
"The class or the minor?"
"Eh, both." He's leaning his head slightly towards you, gaze still cast downward at the contents on your iPad.
"It's chill. The 2-D professor is a woman, that's always a plus. And the department is way smaller than EE, so it's easier to form relationships with the faculty and stuff." Caleb nods, eyes breaking away from your iPad to look at you through thick lashes.
"Do you not have very many female professors?"
"Not really. Definitely not in electrical, I think I've only had one or two. Materials has a better ratio, surprisingly." He hums.
"I'm sorry." You furrow your brows at him.
"What for?"
"I mean, does it not bother you to not see that kind of representation in your field?"
...
What in the philosophical fuck is going on right now.
Not letting your gobsmacked reaction show on your face, you respond as calmly as possible with a casual shrug.
"You get used to it."
"Doesn't mean it can't bother you."
Why the hell is he trying to acknowledge the adverse effects of being in a male-dominated field at 7am?
"It doesn't bother me anymore."
"'Anymore' implies that it once did." You want to smack him and tell him to shut up.
"Are you bothered by the lack of woman in your field?" You snap. His grin turns predatory as he realizes he's getting under your skin.
“Can’t say I am.” He quips, canines glinting behind a playful smirk.
“Yeah, you seem like the type to enjoy being surrounded by men.” You give him an exaggerated once-over look, Caleb letting out an unrestrained chuckle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.” The scraping of the entry door against the floor as the professor pushes through it saves you from your misery. Caleb scoffs and leans further into his seat.
Lecture progresses as usual. You do your reading. He does whatever on his phone. No words are shared until the professor dismisses everyone. As expected, he stands up before you do.
“See you around.” And with a teasing drawl of your name, he’s side-stepping past you and down the stairs, a cloud of sandalwood trailing behind him. You’re tempted to flip him off as soon as his back is turned.
Ugh, you want to scream! Every conversation with him has you fighting for the upper hand, and yet, he always wins it! You feel like an amateur going up against a seasoned professional. It’s like he intentionally creates openings for you to attack, all to leave you totally defenseless and flustered.
Feeling bested, you shuffle out of the lecture hall.
You didn’t have the opportunity to tell Tara about your progress with Caleb until Thursday afternoon. The two of you are making your separate dinners as you fill her in.
“He was the one that suggested Astras?” She clarifies, leaning against the counter next to you as you stirfry some veggies on the stove.
“I know, right. It caught me totally off guard.” She hums in thought. “Do you think he’s up to something?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had the pleasure of being played by him, I don’t know his strategies.”
“You think I’m being played?”
“I just said I don’t know! I think he really only picks up his hookups at parties and shit. This is my first time hearing about his game in a non-rager setting.” You mindlessly toss the contents in the pan in front of you, biting the inside of your cheek.
"I guess it doesn't matter, since this is the only time I'm making plans with him." You can feel Tara's side eye without even looking at her. "What?"
"The way you describe your conversations during class says otherwise." You turn the stove off and face her, spatula still in your grasp as you place your hands on your hips.
"He's the one starting the conversation every time! And the conversation is just... casual banter. It's called being friendly." You quip, frankly.
"Ain't nothing friendly about catching his print when he's wearing shorts." You swat your spatula at her, and she yelps as she dodges it. "And there's nothing wrong with that!"
“Am I supposed to lie and say I don’t find him attractive? He’s hot.” You shrug. “He’s just… I don’t know. Keeping me busy, I guess.”
"Like you aren't already busy enough."
"You know what I mean! He's eye candy." Tara laughs, shaking her head.
"Jeez, I think he's starting to rub off on you." You playfully cock your spatula back and lunge at her, causing her to run to the other side of the kitchen island. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing! It's a good thing, actually! Means you aren't getting attached." She counters, hopping up onto one of the barstools behind the counter.
"He's not rubbing off on me because I have zero intention of sleeping with him. You know casual isn't my thing like that."
"I know. I'm just keeping you in check, girl."
And you know she's being honest. Tara would never just sit back and watch as you marched yourself toward total heartbreak. You don't think she would stop you, but she'd definitely voice every single one of her concerns. And then when it inevitably blows up in your face, she'd be the first one seeking vengeance.
"I know, Tara."
Friday morning has a little extra bounce in your step as you step into the lecture hall, looking forward to a slow and stress-free weekend. As expected, you beat Caleb there. You enjoy the peace and quiet as you get settled, watching other students trickle in and prepare for lecture.
Of course Caleb has to disturb the silence. In the most ironic way possible, considering your conversation with Tara about shamelessly ogling him.
Caleb pushes through those double doors in what you think is the tightest muscle tank you've ever seen on a man. He might as well be shirtless, the way every single curve and groove of his shredded torso is visible through the taut white fabric. Silver pendant sandwiched between two solid pecs. His gray athletic shorts aren't as tight, but equally as revealing. He might as well be walking in slow motion right now, the way you're soaking up every inch of him.
You force your gaze away as he begins to approach, pretending whatever graffiti is etched into the small folding desk is more entertaining.
"Hey." Is all he says as he shuffles past you and into his seat. Phone in one hand, energy drink in the other.
"Aren't those things like, really bad for you?" You nod at the drink in his hand. Not even a 'hello' back. He holds up the canned beverage to inspect.
"Yeah, maybe if you're drinking them every day. I'm working out after this, so it's fine." He takes another sip to embellish his point. You try not to focus too much on the way his hand dwarves the can. "Do you work out?"
"I used to. Like, the whole weightlifting, push-pull-legs split thing. Kinda not my vibe anymore."
"What? What happened?" He pushes, bouncing his leg.
"I don't know. Balancing two engineering degrees and a consistent gym schedule is hard." You fidget with your hands. "And the gym here is like, all douchebag gym bros. It kinda sucks having to wait for every single machine because Chad and Brad are jacking each other off." That earns a chuckle from him.
"That is not true."
"Yeah, says you."
"What about me?" He shifts in his seat to face you, you turn your head to meet his gaze.
"You're clearly one of them."
"How?" He snorts, hands up in mock confusion.
"You just give gym bro, I don't know." You look him up and down. "The outfit. The energy drink."
"Just because I go to the gym doesn't mean I'm a gym bro."
"That's kind of exactly what it means, actually."
"You're saying I'm a douchebag?"
"Yes." He scoffs in fake offense.
"Ouch. And I thought we were friends." Caleb settles back into his seat, crossing one leg over the other.
Friends. That's what this is. That's exactly what this is. He just confirmed it. You don't know why, but you feel a pocket of disappointment in your gut. You're friends! Just friends. Friends don't check each other out or shamelessly flirt. And they definitely don't masturbate to shirtless photos of the other one.
Fuck. You've completely overthought the entire situation! Caleb was never trying to get into your pants, he was just being friendly! You're not some girl he seduces at a muggy fraternity party, you're just the weirdo he sits next to in a stupid lower division history course.
You're internally spiraling. You've convinced yourself you have been playing him at his own game, dodging his advances and making his life hard. This fucker never even stepped on to the court!
"I'll take you to the gym. Defend you from the evil gym bros. Get you the machines you want." He speaks up, pulling you from your descent into madness. It's a sweet sentiment, but you're still hung up on what he just said.
"Thanks, but no thanks." You wave a hand of dismissal, pinching your lips together.
"You don't have to say 'yes' now. No expiration date on my offer." He smiles, and it feels... genuine? No mockery or ill-intent behind it. His gaze is heavy until a cough from the professor up front, signaling the beginning of lecture.
You feel confused the entire class. Not even focused on the work on your iPad, but from your conversation with Caleb. Did he mean it when he said you were friends? The logical part of your brain hopes he did. That the disinterest in sleeping with each other isn't one sided.
The other side of your brain was thriving off the game of cat and mouse you had convinced yourself was real. You had fun leading him on. Giving him your number just to be dry over text. Teasing him and being mean towards his flirty comments. It was empowering to hold the high ground over someone of his stature. But now, you think you've been the one getting played.
Zoning out makes the lecture go by twice as fast, and the professor is calling it before you know it.
"See you tomorrow?" Caleb questions as he stands, fixing his backpack over his shoulders.
Right. Astras tomorrow. To "study." Well, you think he might have actually been serious now. That studying wasn't just an innuendo for fucking.
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." He grins, bounding down the stairs and out of sight.
The comment sits with you all day. Like a brick in your gut during your remaining lectures, your wine and movie night with Tara. It's on the forefront of your mind when you're trying to fall asleep that night.
It’s still in your head the next morning as you get ready to meet Caleb at Astras.
Would a friend put a little more effort into their appearance for a study session? I mean, you are going to be out in public. You don’t want the people around you to think you’re some kind of bum, right? The effort isn’t really for him, but for your own personal image.
That’s what you tell yourself as you blowdry and style your hair. As you ensure your makeup is juuust right, a gentle sweep of blush, soft, wispy mascara, a light-handed glide of lip gloss.
Would a friend wear tank top to study? It’s just a tank top. And you have to wear a bra, obviously. Maybe one of the cute lacey balconette ones, the type that just barely peaks over the neckline of your tank. And some low rise jeans are super casual too. Definitely not a huge step up from the leggings and crewnecks he normally sees you in.
An extra squirt of perfume is fine too. I mean, he always smells good, and he thinks of you as just a friend. So it’s totally casual for you to smell good too, right? Just matching your friends energy.
The town surrounding the university is relatively small, so Astras is only a couple blocks from your apartment. A 15 minute walk, maximum. And the weather was nice, so the possibility of sweating your entire face off and your hair falling flat was low. Not like that matters.
Not like you want to look good for your... friend.
You arrive at Astras a few minutes before your agreed meeting time. The cafe gods are on your side today, there's a small table open near the window. And there's an electrical outlet. Score. Deciding to order a drink before Caleb arrives, you claim the table and head up to the counter.
Turns out the cafe gods actually aren't on your side. Because the person behind the bar is clearly Caleb's "buddy," as he stated.
Fucking Gideon. The little rat that ruined your Friday night a week ago. And the person that knows about your interest in Caleb. You approach him behind the register, and he instantly recognizes you.
"Hey! Tara's friend, right?" You remind him of your name with a tight-lipped smile. "Gideon." He returns, as if you don't remember the name of the guy that had you scared shitless in the middle of that crowded dance floor. "What can I get started for you?"
You give him your coffee order, a small iced americano with honey. You tap your card, very typical interaction. As he's waiting for the transaction to process, he strums his fingers on the bar top.
"Getting some weekend work done?" A harmless question, with no malicious intent detectable.
"Just meeting a friend for some studying." You clip, not interested in idle chat with someone who has proved they're unable to keep a secret.
"Cool, cool. Coffee will be out at the end of the counter." He nods towards the pick-up area and you return to your table to get your things out.
As if you weren't already anxious enough, Gideon being the fucking barista just makes things 100 times worse. Like some kind of surveillance agent to watch Caleb flaunt like a peacock. He probably made sure Gideon was working at this time just to flex his latest capture. And now, he's going to watch the two of you like a fucking hawk and tell everyone about your "infatuation" with the frat boy.
You have to be on guard. Mean bitch. Disinterested. Dead end. You cannot show any kind of comfort or curiosity towards Caleb. This is strictly business.
Lost in thought, the chiming of the bell above the entry door reels you back in.
Good fucking lord.
Caleb Xia, in all of his 6'2 glory, has entered the building. You think every single woman in this joint is ogling him.
He's clearly put a little oomph into his appearance as well. Hair slightly damp. Loose, medium wash jeans hang low on his waist, a step up from the sweatpants or athletic shorts you're used to. A white tshirt with the Chi Sigma Wave logo printed onto the left pec. You think this is the first time you've seen him adorned in any kind of fraternity merchandise.
A quick scan of the coffee shop has him locating your table. With a warm smile, he's approaching you under the gaze of every girl in here. A table of two girls whisper to each other, hands covering their mouths, eyes tracking the handsome boy.
"Good morning." He drawls, sweeping his backpack under the table and settling into the chair. "Have you ordered?" Your curt nod has him sucking his teeth. "Aww, you should have waited for me. My friend could have comped your order." He jerks his head in the direction of Gideon behind the counter. They must have done some sort of discrete, unspoken greeting when he walked in, because when your gaze follows his nod, Gideon is already looking at you both.
Your eyes trail back to the two girls whispering about him when he walked in. They still seem to be paying attention.
But instead of watching him, both of them are staring directly at you. The feeling of multiple pairs of eyes on you makes you uneasy.
Your stomach churns with embarrassment before looking back at the boy in front of you.
"So, did you get your friends history notes?" You clip, trying to distract yourself from the lingering feeling of being watched. Caleb hesitates for a moment, like he didn't completely understand what you were talking about. He's quick to regain his footing.
"I texted them and they haven't replied."
Awesome.
So what the fuck are you even doing here? Neither of you have as much of a scrap of notes from the course. The professor doesn't even post the lecture slides online. You deadpan at him.
"Are you being serious."
"Yeah, I texted them like, an hour ago." You blink once, twice.
"An hour ago?" He shrugs, completely unbothered.
"Do you have somewhere to be or something?" He questions, confused by your reaction.
"I came here because you asked me to study. And now we have nothing to study." You retort, very bluntly.
"So what if we have some time to kill." Running a hand through your hair, you let out a deep sigh.
"So I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for the notes to show up?"
"What's wrong with waiting?" Tempted to drag your hands down your face in frustration, you resist. Your name called behind the counter interrupts the conversation.
"Aren't you gonna order something?" You push, standing up from your chair.
"Oh no, I'm not a coffee person."
This guy. You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together.
"Then why are we even here?" The frustration in your voice is obvious.
"Well, don't you like coffee?" You want to grab him by his perfectly shagged out hair and slam his head against the table. Instead of assaulting this man, you huff and turn to go retrieve your drink.
He's wasting your fucking time! I mean, this was already a waste of time, like, who studies for a history essay, especially two weeks before it's even supposed to happen? But still! He could have at least had the fucking courtesy to show up prepared!
You’re irritated. You must have steam coming out of your ears when you approach the pick-up area to grab your drink, because of course Gideon is there is add fuel to the fire.
“You could have told me Caleb was the friend you were meeting.” He quips, hands busy wiping down the prep line as you reach for your coffee. You want to wipe the smirk off his stupid fucking face.
“Oh bite me, Gideon.” You snap at him, aggravated glare over your shoulder as you turn back, missing his amused laugh.
As roughly as you can without spilling the drink, you set it down on the table and clamber into your chair, attention immediately going back to your device. Caleb raises an eyebrow at the clear attitude you’re sporting.
“What are you doing?” He questions, a little cautious of your irritation.
“I came here to be productive. I am going to be productive, Caleb.” Not even looking at him as you pull up work for another course. “If you’re just gonna sit here and wait around, then you’re welcome to leave.”
There’s a beat of silence as he considers your statement. Before reaching into his backpack under the table and pulling out his laptop. You look at him through dark lashes as he sets it on the table in front of him.
“I’m being productive.” He snorts, eyebrows raised in a teasing manner as he types something into the computer.
And so the two of you work quietly beside each other, nothing but the low cafe chatter and aroma of roasted coffee filling the room. You scribble away at your iPad, he types God knows what on his laptop. Taking occasional pauses to sip your coffee, or to give your eyes a break from the screen and observe the people out and about around the small college town.
Your frustration fizzles out, mind too occupied with the differential equation problem set in front of you. At least an hour goes by without either of you saying a word to each other.
A particularly difficult problem trips you up. It isn’t solving as smoothly as past questions, and after staring at your work, you aren’t sure where you’re messing up. The confusion must be evident on your face, because the silence is finally broken.
“Whatcha working on?” Caleb puts his own work on hold, leaning back in his chair.
“DQs.” You’re short with him. Not only does his voice rekindle some of the annoyance you were feeling earlier, but you’d also rather burn alive than ask him for help. Even if he has taken the course before.
“How’s it going?” He’s pushing your buttons.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t written anything in the past 10 minutes.”
“Mind your business.”
“Are you stuck?”
“No.”
“I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I’ve taken the class, you know.”
“Don’t care.”
“Fine.” He gives up, putting his hands up in defeat. Believing he’s done pestering you, your attention returns to your work.
Until a big hand is reaching across the table faster than you can react, retracting with your iPad in tow.
“Hey!” You protest. You stand to lean over the table to try and take it back, but the fratboy’s stupidly long wingspan proves useful as he holds it behind his head.
You miss the way his gaze, for a fraction of a second, shifts down to the unobstructed view of your cleavage.
“Will you relax? I’m just trying to help.” He counters, hand over his chest in mock sympathy. Afraid of making a scene or further disturbing those around you, you slump into your chair with a huff. “Thank you.”
Caleb looks at your device for a minute at most, before angling the screen for you to see.
“You’re stuck because you’re trying to force the separation of these variables.” He’s pointing to different coefficients and symbols in the problem. With his big hands that you definitely have not tried rubbing one out to. “It’s not a separation of variables problem, it’s set up for you to use integrating factors. I can see why you tried separating it, because of these two distinct functions. But they’re both with respect to ‘x,’ which is why they won’t separate nicely. And why using integrating factors is the easier route.” He says, so composedly, iPad outstretched for you to take back.
If he wasn't already so irritating, you might have actually found his explanation... attractive? The way he validated your original attempt without being condescending. His reasoning was easily digestible, clear, concise. The way he demonstrated his intelligence without making you feel less than.
Man, fuck this guy.
You take your device back without a word and resume the problem at hand. He let's you have at it for a minute or two.
Of course his methodology was correct. You breezed through the problem.
"Did you get it?" He asks. You look up at him, and he's fucking smiling. An annoyingly handsome, yet cocky grin stretched from ear to ear. You don't answer, and yet, he takes that as answer enough. "A 'thank you' would be nice."
"Thanks." You clip, pulling your gaze away.
"Caleb. Thank you, Caleb." He corrects, wanting to hear the words from your lips. You just roll your eyes. Desperate to diverge from this subject, you circle back to the original reason you're here today.
"Have they replied?" "They," as in his "friend" that has the history notes.
"Has who replied?" His answer makes you stop writing, set your Apple Pencil down and look at him with a cocked head.
"Your friend with the notes."
"Oh, no, not yet." His concentration shifts back to his computer.
"You aren't gonna check your phone?"
"My texts come through on my laptop, too."
You just blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times.
"What?" He laughs under your intense gaze.
"Nothing." You shake your head, not interesting in challenging his suspicious claim.
You continue to be productive for another 45 minutes or so. Putting the utmost effort into your own work, and not the boy sitting across from you.
Not the way he leans back in his chair, arms stretching over his head with a muffled groan. Definitely not getting distracted by the way his shirt rides up to tease the waistband of his black Calvin Kleins, and an even yummier happy trail snaking down under his v-line.
Nor are you derailed by the way his tshirt hugs his biceps just right. Or the way thick veins dance all the way down his forearms to his hands.
Caleb catches you staring. Because he's evil and out to get you.
"You're staring." Fuck. Hoping your pinking ears don't give you away, you make up a lie on the spot.
"I didn't know you were in a fraternity." You nod at the Chi Sigma Wave logo on his chest. He checks out his own shirt as if he's surprised to see the merchandise on his person.
"Oh, yeah. Baristas a Sig Wave, too." He points a thumb in the direction of the counter, Gideon busy doing whatever. For some odd reason, he forgoes mentioning that he's not only a member, he's the vice president. "You ever been to one of our parties?" He crosses his arms over his chest, firm pecs bulging under the tight shirt.
"Yeah, actually. My roommate and I dropped into your party last week for a bit. Cowboys vs. Aliens." You try not to shiver remembering the wretched night.
"Oh, what? I didn't even see you."
Yeah, because you were busy putting another girl through your damn mattress.
It's what you want to say. But you keep things cordial.
"We weren't there for long. Maybe an hour, tops." He hums in response.
"I would have looked for you if I knew you were there." Doubt that. Feels like he's just trying to flatter you. And it was a week ago. You didn't even have his number until this past Monday.
"It's fine. You were probably busy or something." In your mind, it's a jab. He obviously doesn't see it that way.
"We're having people over tonight, too. If you want to swing by. No theme." You shake your head.
"I'm not in the mood for another musty frat party." You reply, point-blank.
"Musty?" He gapes, offended by your disapproval of the cleanliness of last weeks rager.
"You heard me."
"Sig Wave is not musty." He protests.
"What I saw last week was pretty nasty."
"And what exactly did you see?"
You seducing some alien girl into your bed.
"It was literally hazy near the DJ booth. And my boots were sticking to the ground." He scoffs amusingly, shaking his head.
"Well, you'll have to come to another one. I'll make sure it meets your high standards." Caleb teases.
"I'm not a second chance type of girl."
"Then maybe you need a personal tour of the Chi Sig Wave residence. Party not included."
"No thanks."
"I'll get the pledges to scrub the floorboards with toothbrushes for you."
"I'd rather not be the reason for any abuse towards the freshmen."
"It's not abuse, they're just making their contribution to the brotherhood." He claims, so proudly.
"The brotherhood." You repeat back, a bit amused.
"Yeah. They're my brothers." The comment has you lifting an eyebrow at him.
"Frats are so weird." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair.
"The kickback this afternoon will be lowkey, I promise."
"I'm not interested."
"Come on, it will be chill. Just drinks, music, maybe get in the pool. You can bring a friend, if you want." He rests his elbows on the table, settling his weight on them.
"I didn't even know the frat house had a pool."
"You didn't go in the backyard when you were there?"
"It was dark. And crowded."
"So you didn't even check out the entire house and you're still being stubborn on your opinion." He challenges, resulting in a shrug from you. "Well, then you have to come tonight."
"Tonights just, not a good night for me." Caleb groans up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair.
"Fine, suit yourself." He stands up from his seat, straightening out his jeans. "I'm gonna use the restroom." You watch his back as he disappears into the corner of the cafe. Grateful for the silence, you resume your work.
Your phone dings on the table, no more than two minutes later. It's Tara.
tara-dactyl: gideon just invited us to the frat house later for casual pool party🤑 u in?
...
What the fuck?
you: are u being fr rn
tara-dactyl: ya he literally js txted me
tara-dactyl: wait y whats wrong
There's just no way it's a coincidence. The timing is too perfect.
you: are u home rn
tara-dactyl: uhhh yes why😥
tara-dactyl: ur scaring me gf
you: ill be home in like 20 ill tell u then
You can't believe him. Did he fucking get Gideon to text Tara when he got up? Did he send him some kind of covert hand signal when you rejected his invitation? There's just no way!
Not long after your short text chain with Tara, the culprit emerges from the restroom, weaving his way through the tables filled with other cafe-goers. Before he can even sit down, you're speaking up.
"I don't have any other work to do, so I'm gonna head out."
"Oh, no worries. I'll walk you to your car." He offers, mirroring you packing up your things.
"I walked here, my place is like 15 minutes away."
"I can give you a ride, too. I got close parking."
"It's fine, I'm in the opposite direction of your place."
"Let me drive you home as an apology for not coming through with the history notes." He insists, swinging his backpack over his shoulders as he digs into his pocket for his keys.
He's just not going to quit, huh.
"Fine." He smiles, proud to beat your stubbornness into submission. He holds the cafe door open for you, and leads the way to his car.
It's an old 1998 Toyota 4Runner SR5. It's well taken care of, the evergreen pearl paint near sparkling in the sunlight. Slightly lifted, grille guard, its a well loved car.
Painless drive to your apartment. You direct him through the winding streets, but the two of you are silent besides that. When you do arrive, he pulls up along the curb to let you out.
"I had a good time today, even if it didn't go as planned." He adds as you hop out of his car. Shutting the door behind you, he speaks again through the open window. "If you change your mind about tonight, let me know." He leans down slightly to meet your gaze through the window, right arm resting on the shoulder of the passenger seat. You give him a tight-lipped smile in return.
"Bye, Caleb." You shout over your shoulder, ambling up the steps of the small townhouse you share with Tara. He watches you unlock the door, not pulling away until you're inside.
Tara's lounging on the couch, watching some anime when you come through the entryway. Her focus immediately snapping to you, jumping up to look over the the back of the couch. You toss your keys onto the console table near the door with a huff.
"Girl." It's all you say to her, and she knows you're about to spill some crazy tea.
Outside the Chi Sigma Wave house, Caleb sits in his car for a moment before going inside. He grabs his phone from the center console and pulls up his text strand with Gideon.
VPrez Cal: Dude shes definitely sus af
VPrez Cal: I just dropped her off
P-Giddy: Bro I didn't think Tara was gonna respond right away
VPrez Cal: Fuck bruh i thought things were going well
P-Giddy: I'm sorry bro!!!!
VPrez Cal: Convince Tara to bring her tonight or youre on bathrooms until you graduate
Caleb breathes in a deep sigh, running a hand over his face. Fucking Gideon.
"Wait, why does he lowkey want you bad?" Tara covers her mouth, the two of you laughing as you debrief the study session on the couch.
"I'm just confused, like, he literally said we were friends yesterday." You hug a pillow to your chest, Tara stretched out across the other side of the sectional.
"I think you're taking things too literally. Begging you to come over isn't really giving friends. Maybe friends with benefits, but not friends." She reasons, talking to the ceiling. "And I'll admit, the phone number instead of social media is also not really giving quick fuck."
"Okay, but I don't want to fuck him unless he like, actually likes me. And isn't just gonna smash and dash."
"Yeah, and that's fair. But I'm not really sure how that's going to come up in conversation unless he asks to fuck."
"And I don't know if I trust him to be truthful about that stuff if it means taking me to bed."
"Fuck, girl. I don't know either." She drags a hand through her short, black hair. "Your study date sounded like, domestic as fuck." You chuck the throw pillow in your lap at her.
"It wasn't a date!" Your cheeks are dusted pink as you protest.
"Sounded like a date to me." She teases. "You went on a date with Caleb Xia~~" she sings in a mocking voice, gently whacking the throw pillow against your bent knees. The teasing is interrupted by a ring from her phone. You both look at the phone before looking at each other. Hesitantly, she flips it over from where it sits on the coffee table.
"It's Gideon."
"You're shitting me." You cover your mouth. "Read it." She scoots a little closer, leaning back into the couch with her phone.
"He asked if we are coming later."
"Fuck, I don't know, bro." You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, overwhelmed and tired from hours of studying while simultaneously fighting off a bear with a stick.
Caleb being the bear. Obviously.
"I say fuck it." She turns to you, biting her lip in mischief.
"You aren't the one being hunted for sport." Her phone pings with another notification.
"He said, 'any frat members who don't invite anyone have to pay double dues next month.' Is that even allowed?" She chuckles at his ridiculous claim.
"He's lying, dude. Caleb put him up to this, I'm telling you."
"So what if Caleb put him up to this? I say we go, take advantage of the pool and free drinks, and if Caleb tries to pull a fast one on you, we bounce." She shrugs, presenting her foolproof idea. "It's a flawless plan." You throw your head back against the backrest of the couch.
"You promise we’ll leave as soon as shit hits the fan?"
"No, I'm gonna leave you there to suffer." She deadpans, sarcastically. "Of course I'll save you, bitch!" You bury your face in your hands, letting out a deep sigh.
"Tell Gideon we'll be there."
Which is exactly how you found yourself at the doorstep of Chi Sigma Wave, after a quick power nap and refreshing shower, with nothing but your purse and a bikini under your clothes. It's a couple hours to sundown, daylight still in the sky when Tara rings the doorbell to the frat house. She gives your hand a comforting squeeze, and the front door swings open to reveal a very shirtless and wet Gideon.
"Holy shit, you guys are here!" You and Tara raise an eyebrow at his… relief? He steps aside to let you both in. "Everyone's in the back, can I get you guys something to drink?"
As he leads you through the house, you take in your surroundings. It's significantly less cluttered than it was last week. No beer pong tables awkwardly spread out and taking up space, no obnoxious DJ booth, no furniture overturned to barricade the kitchen. With the lack of people and the open windows, the air is much more breathable. Smells faintly of Fabuloso, too.
You follow him into the kitchen, and he opens a mini fridge under the island counter to list off what’s available.
“There’s Coronas, Pacificos, White Claws, a couple Surfsides. We also have vodka if you wanna mix it with some soda or some shit.”
“Do you have limes for the Coronas?” Tara asks. Gideon furrows his eyebrows, still crouched in front of the small refrigerator.
“This is a frat house, not a bar.”
“Well, Jesus, I didn’t know limes were a luxury good.” She clips, using her foot to gently push him over in his squat. “I guess I’ll have a Corona with nooo lime.” You ditto her selection, and Gideon moves to uncap the drinks with the bottle opener magnet stuck to the fridge door. Standing to his full height, he hands over the drinks.
He nods for you to follow, taking you to the backyard to join the rest of the kickback. It’s a decent amount of people, maybe 40 to 50. The ratio of boys to girls is split evenly too. The yard is surprisingly spacious, so the crowd doesn’t feel too overwhelming. House music plays from a speaker near the french doors to the house.
A large in-ground pool takes up the center of the backyard. A small hot tub, also in-ground, is tucked closer to the side fence, yet no more than a couple steps from the stairs of the pool. A dozen or so people hit a volleyball around in the pool, and no more than five lounge in the hot tub.
Behind the pool is a turfed lawn, maybe a little bigger than the designated pool/hot tub area. There are some outdoor furniture pieces under a stone pergola, a few chairs, a couch, a small table, even a gas fire pit. Incandescent bulbed string lights line the perimeter of the pergola, as well as the fence surrounding the yard.
It’s… cute. Not what you expected for a fraternity house backyard.
Beside the pergola, on the turf, four boys split into two teams play die. Caleb is one of the four. You don’t recognize the other three. They’re jumping around, yelling, grabbing each other when they make good shots, very stereotypical frat boy behavior. It’s kind of endearing, if you’re being honest.
Gideon shouts for Caleb to call him over, smile on his face as he sees just what Gideon has offered to the altar. He says something to the other guys playing die, before jogging over to greet you.
He’s not dripping wet like Gideon, but his cheeks are a little flushed from the oh so strenuous drinking game he just left. His skin is a little shiny, silver chain settled between his lats instead of its normal position on his chest. Deep brown hair slightly blown out of his face, probably from pushing it back while he was playing.
“You made it.” He greets, before looking over at Tara. “Tara, long time no see.”
“I saw you like 3 weeks ago for the Beta Steel board meeting.”
“3 weeks is a long time.” He argues, hands on his hips. His focus immediately going back to you. “You didn’t text me you changed your mind.”
“I figured Gideon would fill you in.” It’s a dig, one that you’re not sure goes over his head or not.
“Nope. No word from him.” His gaze flicks over to the other frat boy for just a moment, and it’s unreadable to you, again. “Do you want me to put your bag upstairs?” He nods at the purse hanging off your shoulder.
“I’d rather it stay with me. Thanks, though.” You counter, gaze still surveying the party. He pushes a hand through his hair.
“Well, swim, drink, hang out. Come get me if you need anything.”
“We will, thanks.” Tara answers for you both, giving Caleb a tight-lipped grin as he walks away to finish his game of die. Gideon must have walked away mid-conversation, because Caleb’s departure leaves you and Tara alone.
“Girl, that man just completely undressed you with his eyes.” She whispers in your ear, earning an elbow to her side.
“Will you fucking cut it out, there are people around…” you whisper back.
“Yeah and they’d probably agree with me.” You shoot her a side-eye before scanning the backyard.
“Soo, what now?” You question. You aren’t gonna lie, you expected Caleb to be a little clingier when you arrived. He seemed more interested in mingling with his boys. Tara purses her lips.
“I’m taking advantage of the heated pool, you’re either with me or you’re holding my stuff.” She starts peeling her clothes off, and you quickly realize you don’t want to just stand around like an idiot. You have no other choice but to shed your layers as well.
Tara’s tote bag was big enough to house your both of your outfits, so your purse and her bag are left on one of the couches under the pergola.
You opted for a stringy electric blue bikini, the bright color flattering on your skin tone. A cute triangle top cups your boobs nicely, and cheeky side-tie bottoms let your curves speak for themselves.
Tara just about jumps in head first, while you’d rather sit on the side of the pool. You watch with a grin as she immediately gets absorbed into the group bumping the volleyball around. About 15 minutes go by, dangling your legs into the comfortable blue water as Tara splashes around with people you don’t recognize.
“Not interested in joining them?” Caleb had snuck up on you, voice coming from above as he comes behind you. He matches your position, sitting on the edge of the pool, leaning back onto his palms.
“I just blow dried my hair this morning, I’d like to preserve it until at least Monday.” Your hands come to grip the edge of the pool, slighting leaning forward to distance yourself from Caleb’s hand behind you.
“Ah, I see.” He hums in response. “We’re starting a game of beer pong over there. And I need a partner.” You look back at him, cheeks still a little flushed.
“I’ve never played before.” You finish off the Corona you’ve been nursing since you got here. Caleb shrugs a shoulder with a handsome smile.
“You’re a smart girl. You’ll pick it up fast.”
You try not to blush at the compliment. Fueled by just a little bit of liquid courage, you take the leap.
“Okay.” He tries not to celebrate too obnoxiously, immediately pulling his legs out of the pool to stand. You do the same, him offering a hand to help you up.
Except he doesn’t let go when you’ve found your footing. He holds your hand for the short distance, at most 10 steps, to the table where they’re setting up the game.
You pretend to not be upset when he lets go.
Your opponents are another boy-girl duo. They introduce themselves at Liam and Jenna. You aren’t sure if they’re dating, but they seem pretty cozy with each other.
A couple beers had been divided amongst the 20 red solo cups on the table, 10 on your side, the other 10 on their side. Each arranged into a pyramid formation.
“Liam and I will do eye-to-eye to decide who goes first.” The two boys center themselves on their sides, counting to 3 and locked onto each others gaze, before blindly making a shot. Liam misses. Caleb makes his.
Of course he does. Cocky bastard.
“We get first throws.” He dips the two ping pong balls into the designated wash cup before handing you one. “Watch how I do it, then you’ll go.”
He situates himself for the shot. Ball pinched between his forefinger and thumb. Elbow level with his shoulder, chest not quite square with the target. With a smooth draw back of his hand, he’s flicking forward, releasing the ball in a perfect arc towards the opponents side.
It sinks into the cup at the front of the pyramid.
“See? Super easy. Your turn.” He steps back to let you shoot.
Mimicking his form as much as possible, you move your forearm in a few practice motions, before letting the ball fly.
And it finds its home in the middle cup, third row back. Caleb yells in excitement.
“You’re a natural!” A big hand lands on your shoulder as he expresses his pride. “That’s balls back, by the way. Drink up, unc.” He heckles to the duo across the table. “We get balls back when we both make our shot. It’s like an extra turn.” You nod your head in understanding, as Caleb collects the two ping pong balls from the other side and washes them once again.
This time, his shot hits the rim of one of the cups and bounces astray. He curses under his breath. You take your shot, and sink it again.
“You were lying about never playing before, huh?” He teases, hands on his head.
“No, I was being serious! This is my first time.” You argue. The small amount of beer in your system, plus the added confidence from your success thus far, has you smiling a little wider up at the frat boy.
He thinks it’s adorable.
“Alright, I gotta lock in. Can’t get shown up in my own home by a newbie.” He chuckles, watching the other team make their shots.
Liam sinks one first time as well, flipping Caleb off. Jenna overshoots the table completely, laughing off the mistake.
The game goes back and forth. Sometimes Caleb making his shot, you missing yours, vice versa. You don’t get anymore opportunities for balls back, making the cups dwindle down a little slower than you’d hoped.
You’d realized early on just how handsy he is. Celebrations started as simple high-fives or maybe a fist bump. They evolved into a hand on the back, drifting lower and lower with each turn until it was wrapped around to your hip. Sometimes, a big arm would snake around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest for a hug.
You could have said you weren’t comfortable being touched like that.
But you loved it.
Heavy hands resting on your body. Cheek pressed against his warm, solid chest. It was awesome.
You took turns drinking the eliminated cups. So after Jenna and Liam had gotten 9 of the 10 cups, you were 4 drinks in. They weren’t full beers, by any means. But it was definitely enough for a pleasant buzz.
It was the end of the game. You were tied, both sides with one cup left. It had been that way for a few turns, neither team able to snipe the lone cup.
Your teams turn, and Caleb steps up to shoot. He’s eyeing the cup, before saying something to you at his side.
“What do I get if I make this shot right now?” He drawls, focus coming to you.
“I’m supposed to give you something?” You raise an eyebrow, finger pointed back at your own chest.
“Yeah, I need an incentive for winning. What’s my prize?” He’s teasing you, waiting to see if you’ll still challenge him at his own game.
“I don’t know, what do you want?” You cross your arms over your chest, hip popping out to the side with that attitude that he would never admit drives him wild.
“If I make this shot…” he pauses to think, not long before that ladykiller smirk stretches wide across his face.
“I get a kiss.”
Despite how hard you’ve been trying to convince yourself what you have with him is platonic, his request doesn’t surprise you. You shake your head in amusement.
“Okay. Because you’re not making this shot.” You push, watching his pupils dilate.
“You don’t think I can end this game right now?” He’s getting situated to shoot, gaze still locked on yours.
“No, I don’t.” You shrug, nonchalant about the fact that you just agreed to kiss him if he makes this. He scoffs amusedly, honing in on the single cup at the other end of the table. A deep breath in, and the ball sails across the table.
And into the final cup with a splash.
You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the way your jaw dropped. Caleb whips around, yelling in exhilaration with his arms out before he’s bear hugging you and spinning you around on the turf.
A couple party-goers that had been observing the game hoot and holler as Caleb made the winning shot. They laugh as you scream and yelp when the big frat boy lifted you like you weighed nothing to celebrate the victory.
After a few turns, he sets you back down, warm hands engulfing your waist.
“Pay up.”
His hands on you are hot, his gaze even hotter. Suddenly feeling small in his grasp, mind scrambling for a way out of the hole you just dug yourself.
“You didn’t say I had to kiss you on the lips.” You retort, prideful smirk on your face.
“It was implied.” Caleb challenges back, a hand leaving your waist to tuck your hair behind your ear, before settling on the side of your neck.
“Maybe you should have been more specific.” You lean up, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his jaw, and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t try to turn his head and kiss you on the lips. But the hand that is caressing the side of your neck slips around to your nape, to hold you in place for just a moment extra.
“I’m getting that fucking kiss later.”
Is what he says, quietly, into your ear. Making a shiver go down your spine. Caleb releases you from his hold, grin over his shoulder as he turns to let some of his fraternity brothers dap him up in celebration.
Leaving you standing there, butterflies in your stomach, watching his back as he converses with some other guys. A shout of your name has you glancing towards the pool.
Tara, elbows placed on the ledge of the pool, looks up at you with a half smile.
“Good?” She mouths, thumbs up and brows furrowed. Returning the smile, you just nod your head before walking over to your bag under the pergola to check your phone.
The moment of silence has you reeling. Both of you were definitely just tipsy, hence the touchiness and bold requests. Right? And there’s nothing wrong with that! After tonight, you’ll both just excuse the other’s behavior as being a little buzzed and caught up in the moment.
But fuck, you didn’t want it to end. His attention. His praise. The hard line of his body pressed against yours. It was arguably more intoxicating than the alcohol you were drinking.
As if he wasn’t physically attractive, he’s sweet to you, too. Doesn’t see your stubbornness as this impenetrable wall. Teases you without it being too much. Let’s you bully and mock him all you want without getting defensive. The banter is—
“Good game, by the way.” A foreign voice sounds behind you, grabbing your attention. It’s Liam.
“Yeah, good game to you, too.” You smile at him, tucking your phone back into your bag.
“So, you and Caleb?” He strolls a little closer, hands in his pockets.
“Oh, we’re friends. We have a class together.”
“Aerospace?”
“Haha, no, I could never. It’s just a GE.” Liam hums in response.
“I was just about to head inside to grab another drink. Care to join?” You quickly survey the yard, finding his pong partner, Jenna, talking to another guy. Sensing no malicious intent, you agree and follow him into the frat house. “What were you drinking before the game?” He asks, entering the kitchen to open the main refrigerator, instead of the mini Gideon had served you from.
“A Corona. I’d be down to switch it up, though.” You look over his shoulder to assess your options. More Coronas, Modelos, Blue Moons, a handful of PBRs. “I’ll do a Modelo.”
“Lime?” You laugh, he raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Gideon told us earlier you didn’t have any limes.” You chuckle, watching him grab a Blue Moon for himself and crack the bottles open.
“Well, Gideon's low on the totem pole in this house.” He turns back to the main fridge to pull a lime out of one of the produce drawers. As well as a knife from the knife block on the counter.
“And you’re not?”
“I’m the president, so no, not exactly.” He shrugs, cutting a wedge out of the lime for your drinks.
"Wow, thank you for your service, Mr. President." You quip, accepting the open beer bottle from him.
“Eh, I have seniority but I really don’t do much around here anymore. Caleb’s the real commander in chief.” You feign ignorance.
“Why’s that?”
“He didn’t mention he’s the vice president?”
“Seemed to have left that part out.” The two of you lean against opposite sides of the counter, him against the island, you on the fridge side.
“So humble, that guy.” Liam shakes his head, taking a swig from his drink. “I take it you haven't been friends for that long?"
"Only a couple weeks." You half shrug, crossing a leg over the other where you're propped against the counter. "I wouldn't even really say we're friends, yet." Liam raises his eyebrows.
"Really?"
"I mean, we sit next to each other in lecture. We studied at Astras this morning." You purse your lips. "We're acquainted."
"Hm. Interesting." His hands grip the edge of the island, looking down at his feet. "He's a good guy, you know. Setting himself up for success once he graduates." Weird comment to make, but alright.
"Yeah, so I've heard." You nod along. "Busy, too."
"He manages it well." Liam opposes.
"Seems pretty focused on himself."
"Doesn't mean he isn't willing to make time for other people."
"What are you guys doing?"
A voice booms from the back door. It's Caleb, your bag clutched in his hand at his side.
"Just treating the girl who carried your ass in cup pong to a drink." Liam stands up straight, moving to get back outside.
"She did not carry my ass in pong." He snorts, just as Liam clasps a hand over his shoulder, sidestepping Caleb to reenter the backyard. Caleb takes a few steps further into the living room.
"People were sitting on the couches and I didn't want your bag getting fucked with." He rests it against the armrest of one of the couches. "You could have asked me for another drink."
"He was offering." You cross your arms over you chest, beer bottle neck pinched lazily between your fingers.
"Are you cold?" He saunters a little closer, closing in on you in the kitchen.
"No, I'm fine. You didn't tell me you were VP." You question him. He shrugs, nonchalantly.
"Does it change anything?"
"I guess not, no." He leans a hand against the counter next to you, towering over. You have to crane your neck up to look at him.
"We lit the firepit, if you're cold."
"I just told you I'm not cold." You huff.
"Oh my god, I'm asking you to come sit outside with us." Caleb groans, dragging his free hand over his face.
"You could have just said that." Pushing away from the counter and away from him, you mosey towards the back door.
"For someone so intelligent, you are dense." He's right on your heels, the two of you rejoining the small kickback.
A couple people surround the quaint gasoline firepit. Tara's there, rambling about something to a few girls. Liam is in one of the chairs, Jenna on his lap. There's a space open on the couch, which you occupy. Caleb slides in next you, thigh pressing against your own as he drapes an arm over the arm rest, the other on the back rest behind you, just hovering over your shoulders. You whisper to him quietly, amongst the multiple conversations going on across the firepit.
"I couldn't even tell they were dating during beer pong." You nod at Liam and Jenna, who are also conversing quietly with each other.
"Yeah, they've been together a while, so they’ve definitely outgrown the PDA. He moved out at the end of last year to live with her, which is good for me, because that meant I got my own bathroom in the master suite upstairs."
"Lucky you."
“What were you guys talking about inside?” He’s watching you pick at your cuticles.
“Just small talk. Classes, mostly.” You would never admit that Liam was most definitely vouching for Caleb. Caleb just hums in acknowledgement. “He said you basically run the frat, too.” His chest puffs with a chuckle.
“Liam’s kinda trying to pass off all the president responsibilities before he graduates. It happens with every graduating class, nothing new.” His gaze trails off to watch the fire crackle against the lava rock filling the pit. “And it’s not as strenuous as you’d expect. Our exec board is pretty large, so duties are spread thin. I just approve any major spending, big decisions, stuff like that.”
You meet Taras eyes across the fire pit, an unspoken “I’m okay” between the two of you. She returns to her own conversation.
You and Caleb end up bouncing around the many conversations going on around the group. Laughing, adding your own two cents occasionally, listening attentively. He’d say something just to you every once in a while, maybe a joke, or a piece of information that filled in some hole in the conversation.
The sun was finally starting to set, warm hues of red and orange reflecting off the undisturbed pool water. Some people had started to trickle out, either heading inside or going home. The disappearing sun had the temperature dropping, soft breeze turning chilly.
You had slowly scooted closer to Caleb, the warmth radiating off his body shielding you from the crisp air. Shoulder tucked under his armpit, his hand across the backrest brushing your shoulder on occasion. He must feel you shivering, because the arm behind you presses you a little closer to his side.
“Getting cold?” He asks, quietly into your ear.
“A little.” You look up at him, eyes a little hazy and cheeks dusted pink from the alcohol in your system. Not enough to have you stumbling and slurring, just the right amount to loosen you up.
“We could go inside.” He peaks over his shoulder. “Or the hot tub's open.”
The hot tub.
It's intimate, no doubt about it. It's slightly isolated from the group sitting under the stone pergola. There's no one using it, and everyone has gotten out of the pool, as well.
You know he's going to turn his charm up to the max.
And the thought excites you.
"I'm down for the hot tub."
Caleb knows he's about to move in for the kill. His ravenous grin giving him away.
"Let me grab some towels." He squeezes your knee before standing, his pace quick as he jogs into the house. You get up, making eye contact with Tara. She wiggles her eyebrows at you, you shrug innocently. Saying something to the girls around her, they seem to take it as their cue to leave.
Alone in the backyard, dusk turning the sky purple, you make your way over to the hot tub.
Steam swirls along the surface, the soft purple lights lining the submerged bench making the water even more enticing. Dipping your toe in to test the temperature, before descending the small staircase into the warm liquid.
You stand in the center of the round hot tub, drink still in hand, letting yourself acclimate to the steamy environment.
“Feels nice?” Caleb says, hanging two towels off the railing along the steps into the jacuzzi.
“So nice.” You drawl, moving to set your half-full beer bottle on the edge. “This yard is highkey sick, actually.”
“I think the landlords renovated it a year or two before I got here. The house itself still feels kind of outdated, though.” He explains, coming down the steps and immediately settling on the bench, arms outstretched on the ledge behind him.
You do your best not to openly ogle his firm pecs and bulging biceps.
"Does this mean you've changed your opinion on the cleanliness of our house?" He teases, cocking his head to the side.
"It was pretty tidy inside, I won't lie. And the yard is cute." You purse your lips, deep in mock thought. "I still think what I witnessed last week was kinda gross, though." He throws his head back, Adams apple on full display.
"Fine. Be stubborn." His gaze drags back down to you, still standing in the middle of the hot tub. "Did you come as an alien or a cowgirl?"
"Alien, Tara was my cowgirl." You hold your hair up as you dip down to your shoulders, letting your body adjust to the temperature difference.
"Man, I was a cowboy. We could have matched." Caleb teases, taking a sip of his beer. He must have grabbed himself another one when he went inside, there's condensation on the glass.
"I didn't even know your name at that point. I was supposed to hunt you down and introduce myself?" You raise an eyebrow, finally drifting to sit on the bench across from him. The ledge is kind of deep, your shoulders just barely peaking out from under the water, while the majority of his chest is above the surface.
"I would have introduced myself if I saw you." He counters. "Did Gideon invite you?"
"Yeah, I think him and Tara are good friends." You smile remembering his silly costume. "His inflatable suit was funny."
"So you found Gideon but you didn't come find me."
"He was working the little makeshift bar, he was pretty easy to track down."
"You could have asked him to get me."
"Why would I ask him to find you if I didn't even know you were part of the frat?" He groans, defeated.
"You just won't give in, huh?" His grin is devilish.
There's a sick twist in your gut that says you are about to see just how confrontational Caleb can be.
"I don't know what you mean." You feign innocence, your gaze challenging his.
"I know you asked Gideon about me."
...
God fucking damnit. You let out a deep breath through your nose.
"Okay, fine. I did. What's your point?" You retort, trying to hold onto a shred of your dignity. Hopefully, he can't see how flushed you're getting under his scrutiny.
"Why were you asking about me?" He's getting off on watching you resist his torment.
"Because I wanted to know who you were."
"You could have asked me yourself."
"You were busy." The thought of Caleb schmoozing that other girl makes you nauseous.
"Did Gideon tell you that?" This fucker knows exactly what you witnessed. He wants to hear you acknowledge it.
"I saw you. Take a girl upstairs." You clip bluntly.
"And how'd that make you feel?"
"I didn't feel any type of way towards it. Gideon said you sleep around."
"So you believed him?"
"Kind of hard not to when I watched you lure a girl into your bedroom."
"Were you jealous?" You hold your head a little higher, in attempt to hide your mental writhing.
"No. I don't do casual hook ups." Caleb stands up to cross the distance. You get up, shoulders back, confident to not feel like he has the high ground.
"And yet here we are." Neck craned up to hold his gaze, face only a couple inches from his chest.
"I think I've made it clear I'm not into one night stands. If that's not what you want, then leave."
"I don't want to leave." He moves past you to take your spot on the submerged ledge. "I like spending time with you." You're standing between his spread legs, looking down at him. "And I don't sleep around that often, for your information."
"You literally showed up to lecture with a hickey the other day." He scoffs amusedly.
"When?"
"The Wednesday before the party."
"That's literally impossible. That party was my first hook-up in months."
"I know what I saw."
"I'm telling you you're wrong." He pauses, eyes skating across your figure for a fleeting moment. "Why are you so desperate to find a reason not to give me a chance?"
"Because we obviously have different motives in this situation." You cross your arms over your chest. It takes every drop of strength in him not to watch the way your tits press together. They are, like, right in front of his face, after all.
"I just told you, if I was only interested in sleeping with you I would have given up two weeks ago." His hands sneak off his lap and play with the strings of your bikini bottoms. "I want to get to know you."
"Gideon said you don't have time for anyone else." He groans, rolling his neck.
"Gideon is a fucking idiot."
"And I'm supposed to believe you over him?" He cocks his head.
"Tell me one thing Gideon has done to make him more trustworthy than me."
...
Touché. Caleb pinches his lips together in righteousness.
"My point exactly." His hands have abandoned the ties on your bottoms to rest on your hips. "You have to give me a chance before jumping to conclusions." He says, voice soft with honesty.
He has a point. You took the personality Gideon told you about and ran with it. Even if his actions leading up to this moment haven't necessarily matched the sleaze-bag persona Gideon tried to convince you he was.
You bite your bottom lip, looking down at the frat boy. Eyes tender as he grovels below you. Hair tousled from running his hands through it all day. Warm hands kneading your hips below the surface.
You aren't sure if it's the puppy dog eyes he's giving you. Or if he genuinely upheld solid reasoning to validate his argument. Or the multiple beers in your system.
But you find yourself agreeing with him, giving him a gentle nod.
The big hands on your hips pull you towards him, into his lap. Knees moving to rest on either side of his hips, straddling him. Hands landing on his broad chest.
"I'm kinda offended you thought I was a player." He quips, boyish grin replacing the pleading expression.
"You're attractive and in a frat. If it looks and sounds like a duck, it's probably a duck."
"You think I'm attractive?" His smile grows even wider. You roll your eyes.
"I think you have selective hearing." You retort, drawing a laugh from him. "And you literally said yourself you don't sleep around that often. That still implies you sleep around."
"I haven't slept with anyone since the party. And the last person before that was like, seven months, I think." You hum in response.
“Can I ask you a question?” His hands glide up from your hips to your waist as he nods. “You were never gonna get those history notes from this morning, huh?” His tongue darts out to wet his lip.
“I thought I was pretty convincing.” He kids, giving your waist a quick squeeze. “How else was I supposed to convince you to come out with me?”
“Ummm, maybe just ask me next time?”
“Yeah, okay, Little Miss Attitude.” Caleb jests, narrowing his eyes. “I could practically hear you grumbling with rage when I showed up without the notes this morning. And I’m always the one to start the conversations in lecture. Not exactly the warmest welcome.”
“Yeah, well. I’m still getting to know you.” You argue back at him, finger tracing his collarbone.
“And yet you’re perched so pretty in my lap right now.” Trying not to blush as big hands pull you even closer, chest grazing his. Caleb’s eyes take in all the features on your face.
“I think you still owe me, by the way.” He’s talking about the game of cup pong, and the winning shot he made.
“I already gave you your kiss.” He pushes your hair out of your face, other hand still under the water holding you impossibly close.
“Didn’t count.”
“Yes, it did.” He shakes his head.
“Nuh-uh. You’re still in debt. Only way out is giving me a real kiss. On the lips.” He drawls out the last sentence, emphasizing each syllable with a tilt of his head. “I earned that kiss, fair and square.”
“You know, I technically won, too. You’re not giving me any kind of prize.”
“Now you’re just being greedy.” He snorts.
“No way you’re saying that, as you literally beg for another kiss.”
“I’m about to stand up and dunk both of us into that pool if you don’t pay up.” You gasp, trying to shift away, but his massive arms snake around your back to keep you in place.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Kiss me, and I won’t.” You huff, bringing a hand up to caress his jaw. Slowly leaning in, he angles his head with eager eyes and an impatient mouth. You pause, him straining just to brush his lips against yours.
“Impatient much?” You tease, smiling against him.
“Please just shut up and kiss me.” He pleads, before pressing his lips to yours.
It’s instantly just so addictive.
The gentle push. The wet glide of his lips over yours. The drag of his tongue against your bottom lip, requesting access so politely.
His hands familiarizing themselves with every inch of your hips, your waist, your curves. He’s still respectful with it, not overly vulgar with the groping nor exploring your more intimate areas.
The makeout is hot. Steamy. Intimate. He lets you lead the dance, following your energy and not dominating the kiss. You pull back to breathe, Caleb chasing the connection.
“Keep kissing me.” He whispers against your lips, trailing his own along your jaw, down to your neck.
“I need to breathe, Caleb. You do, too.” Your fingers tug the hair at his nape, pulling him away. His pupils are completely blown with lust. Lips slightly agape, slick, and swollen.
It’s the most handsome you’ve ever seen him.
You just can’t resist going in for another kiss.
You control the momentum. One hand on the back of his head angling him just how you like it. Other hand on his jaw, thumb on his chin guiding the movement of his mouth.
Dragging it down when you want him to open wider, tongue diving deeper into the wet cavern. Pushing it closed when you just want a cute peck, his lips on yours with nothing else in the way.
His hands have your body locked against his, the solid line of muscle pressed against your softer, more feminine figure. A harsh drag of your hips closer to his center has you feeling just how worked up he’s getting, bulge beginning to tent his swim trunks. The gasp that escapes you is swallowed up by his kiss.
“Come upstairs.” He murmurs against the corner of your lips.
“I don’t want to sleep with you tonight.” You place a chaste kiss on his jaw.
“We don’t have to do anything. Just come upstairs.” His mouth is still exploring your neck, a few pecks to your shoulders as you rake your nails through his hair.
“I am going to fuck you if I go upstairs.” You swear you feel him get a little harder at that. “And my roommate is still here. I’m not gonna leave her.”
“I’ll send Tara home in an Uber black on the frats dollar if it means getting you upstairs.” He’s dead serious.
“I’m not sleeping with you tonight, Caleb. You gotta work a little harder for me.” He drops his head against your shoulder with a frustrated groan. “I should probably go show her I’m still alive.”
You move to get off him, but his arms remained snaked around your middle, grip unbreakable.
“Just a little more.” He looks up at you with imploring eyes, saying a thousand please’s without a single word. “5 more minutes.” You cup his cheek, he nuzzles softly into your palm.
“5 more minutes.” You repeat back, as he leans in for another kiss.
5 minutes turned into 10, and 10 into 20. It’s with a reluctant sigh that he finally loosens his grip enough to let you stand. You use the steps to exit the jacuzzi, wrapping one of the towels hung on the railing around your frame. When you turn around, Caleb’s still sitting in the hot tub, head thrown back and hands over his face.
“Aren’t you gonna get out?” You raise an eyebrow at him, clutching the fuzzy towel to your chest.
“Give me a second.”
“I can’t go back in there alone, Caleb.”
“I’m not asking you to leave, I’m just asking you to wait.”
“It’s cold out here, though. Hurry up."
"I can't hurry up."
"What the hell is your problem?" You laugh at his clear embarrassment.
"I'm hard as shit, woman!" Caleb throws his hands up at the admission, an unabashed smile on his face. "Just... I need you to, like... not look at me. For a moment." All you can do is giggle at the sheepish frat boy trying to reel in his arousal.
When Caleb is finally able to calm down, he's towel-drying his body as you wait idly by the water. Your towel is tucked under your armpits, wrapped around your chest, torso, and butt. He wraps his around his waist before stepping a little closer.
"I want to take you out. On a date. A real one." He clarifies, as if it could be misconstrued.
"As opposed... to what? A fake one?" You mock him, making him roll his eyes with a faux irritated utter of your name.
"It's a 'yes or no' question." You pretend to think about it.
"I guess you can take me out." Feigning nonchalance, you shrug. He drops a kiss into your hair before spinning you around by the shoulders and guiding you back to the house.
"You are a fucking handful."
Entering the living room, majority of the party has cleared out. Some people stand around in the kitchen, others sprawled out on the couches watching some movie you don't recognize. Tara is completely starfished on the only recliner in the room, both of your bags in her lap. Her head whips to the two of you coming through the white french doors.
She does her best to keep her jaw from hitting the floor at the sight of you both. It's not a very strong effort.
"Hey. Ready to head out?" You drawl, so coolly. Caleb looms behind you, hand still on your lower back over the towel.
"Yeah, yep! Lemme' just... call the uber." She chirps, attempt to not show her excitement futile.
It doesn't take more than 7 minutes for the Uber to show up, perks of the university town being so small. Towel exchanged for your original clothes, Caleb walks the two of you to the front door.
"Text me when you get back." He mumbles against your forehead, pressing a quick kiss. Watching you and Tara walk across the lawn to the ride, not going back inside until the car pulls away.
As soon as the car door shuts behind you both, she turns to you.
"Girl." You slap a hand over your mouth.
"You have no fucking idea."
hey Google play sexy boy by air
also soft launching submissive frat!Caleb that everyone thinks is a whore how are we feeling
im like fuckkkk i wanna see these mfs crack omlll as if im not the one writing this shit💀💀
as always constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated!
taglist: @elysiasgirlfriend @yes-ishipit @twobitnox @gravitationalbluberry @celaenaglynn
