Sneak Peek 💜💚💜
frat boy! Ari Levinson x college student!Reader
At a party with your boyfriend when things aren't going well between you, your old classmate--the notorious jock and man-whore, Ari--catches you in a weak moment...
Warnings for drinking/partying but not much else in this bit. (That might be a terrible summary for this excerpt but I made there too much going on to explain succinctly. My bad.) WC 720
The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to hold your hand, but it doesn’t matter. He walks ahead of you a few feet to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.
The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver farther in than the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.
Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.
Asshole.
He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.
“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.
Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies two years ago, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.
His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her top half covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.
What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.
He’s so sexy though.
His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone below him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved since your freshman year at the very least.
“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”
Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts for you to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs with no room to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either.
You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets pulled off for the next partnered game.
The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You took a detour to dump your cup in crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.
Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe.
You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.
“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.
You wave it off with a ‘no, thank you’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.
Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.
Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”
He wouldn’t drug himself with anything, you imagine, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.
You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.
Ari smiles softly.
“Where’s what’s-his-face?” He scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”
You can’t help but frown and sigh as Ari takes another swig of soda, his pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw back, and keep your guess silent. Perhaps knuckle deep in the toilet?
Ari contemplates for a moment. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.
“What?”
He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Poor bandana girl. That’s a little harsh to be fobbed off so soon.
“So—”Ari elbows you gently “—how you been, smartie-pants?”
A/N: I cannot express to you the sheer amount of internal screaming I have done while writing this. He's...he's too...uhhhh my gawdddddd. He's too beautiful.
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
