Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,63

digging through my bag for my favorite tube.

“See, I’m not sure fraternity parties have a stopping or starting time. They just are.”

“And you know this because…?”

She doesn’t answer right away, because she’s blotting her own lips. “Look, I don’t actually know. But that’s why we’re doing this. To find out which things Hollywood got right and which ones are fake.”

“So this is basically a science experiment?” I lean toward the mirror and purse my lips.

“I have a very analytical mind,” she admits. “But I want to go out. You and I are too sheltered, and it’s time we did something about it.”

“But fraternities can be a little dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.” That’s what Leah thinks, anyway.

“We’ll stick together,” she insists. “Besides, I chose this one carefully. We’re going to A Mu.”

“A…moo? What?”

“No—Alpha Mu. Those are their letters. It’s an environmental frat. Seems like a good place to get our feet wet, right? How scary could a bunch of vegans really be?”

“An environmental fraternity?” I giggle in spite of myself. “Those red plastic cups are out, right? Unless they rewash them after the party.”

“We’re going to find out,” Ellie insists. “Do you want to call Dylan back before we go?”

For a moment I actually consider it. I miss him. But if his sister is in town, then he’s probably out with his friends. He doesn’t want an earnest phone call from mopey me.

“Nope,” I decide. “Let’s roll.”

Thirty minutes later I’m standing on the slightly sticky floor of a fraternity house basement, listening to Ellie chat up one of the pledges.

She was right about one thing. This dude is not at all scary. For starters, I probably outweigh him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads: Keep Earth Clean, This Isn’t Uranus. And he’s explaining the environmentally friendly features of the frat house to Ellie.

“We have photovoltaic electricity,” he says. “A geothermal heat pump, and solar hot water, too.”

“Coolio,” Ellie says.

“Want another beer?” he offers.

“Well…” Ellie looks into her cup. It’s made of paper, and it’s compostable. “I’m not done with this one. I’m good.”

I also shake my head. The beer is warm and kind of awful. I’m confused about how people accidentally get drunk on this.

“Snacks?” he asks me. “They’re gluten-free. And I didn’t catch your names.”

“I’m Chastity,” I say, offering my hand. “And this is Ellie.”

“I’m Alfalfa,” he says. “That’s my, uh, pledge name. My real name is Angus.”

“Huh,” Ellie says, and I can practically see her filing away the idea of pledge names for later. “Let’s dance, Alf.” She actually hooks one of his skinny arms in hers and points toward where a bunch of people are already gyrating under the light of a disco ball.

Alf’s face lights up, as if he’s won something wonderful. Then he leads Ellie toward the dancers, taking care to stash his cup on a ledge along the wall.

Ellie does the same. “C’mon, Chastity,” she hollers over her shoulder. “Please?”

I follow them, even though I don’t feel like dancing. But I’m here. I’m wearing mascara and everything. And I want Ellie to have the full experience.

Also? Dancing isn’t allowed on the compound. So even though I don’t really know how to dance, I’m going to do it just on principle. And it goes well enough, I guess. I swing my hips and raise my arms and smile at Ellie, who beams back at me, causing sparkly light to bounce off her braces.

Alf keeps making eye contact with Ellie, and I can’t help but find them adorable. Before long, another guy kind of sidles up next to me. He gives me a friendly smile and starts to dance.

He’s cute. Cuteish, anyway. But he’s no Dylan Shipley.

Nobody is, though. I’ve spent a lot of my time this week wishing I could rewind my life. I want to take back everything I said and did after eating pizza in my room.

No—I’d go back further. I’d undo the lie I told Dylan about Leah’s weekend availability. And maybe he’d still be dating Kaitlyn, and I’d still be mooning over him privately.

Everything is so much worse now. Even when I manage to forget about him for an hour or two, Kaitlyn usually reappears, giving me smug looks as she passes our bathroom. Or she’s leaning over to whisper to one of her friends when I pass her in the dining hall.

The first time I kissed a boy, I was beaten for it. Now I administer my own beatings. I feel achy and sad, and I don’t