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sheeple · 8 months ago

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Heirs of Hogwarts | part 2

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Mattheo being Mattheo / Matt beats up a bitch A/n: I COULDN'T WAIT TO FINISH WRITING CHAPTER 3 SO HERE IT ISSSSS. ALSOO... Kinda overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I've got on the first part. I hope this one is what you imagined it to be c: (not me having imposter syndrome) [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

Mattheo wasn't raised with an abundance of love. He was never abused, no, but there wasn't much familiar love between him and his parents and his older brother. Something about ancient wizarding standards or whatever.

That's why when he entered his first year at Hogwarts, something ugly festered within the boy when he saw you. You, another descendant of a founding member of Hogwarts, born into a family so full of love that it made you shine brighter than the sun herself.

Mattheo was jealous of the way your brothers welcomed you into Hufflepuff house, a proud smile on their faces. The way they hugged you and Professor Sproud beamed with pride to have another descendant of Helga Hufflepuff under her care. All Mattheo got was a stiff nod from Thomas and a sneer to not bother him.

It was not until the first class the Slytherins had with the Hufflepuffs that he decided that from that day onwards he despises you. The way the yellow of your cloak makes your skin radiate. The way you tie your hair with ribbons. The way that over the years, you've grown more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.

He also hates that now in sixth year, he has to be your partner for Herbology. You, who despite your heritage, hate Herbology. It makes Mattheo hate you even more because now you are not the perfect Hufflepuff princess everybody imagines you to be. Now you are human.

"If you keep staring at her like that, she might combust in flames", muses Thomas while he doesn't look up from his book. It gets the attention of other boys around them and they all look at the person Mattheo's staring at.

"Really?", scoffs Draco, his eyes flickering over your back, "Princess Perfect over there?"

Something boils from within Mattheo as his friends' eyes trail over your body. He clenches his jaw as he abuses the shepherd's pie on his plate.

The staring doesn't go unnoticed as one of your friends points it out and you turn towards the Slytherin table. Your eyes meet those of Mattheo and you give him a small but awkward smile before turning back, your shoulders slumping under the eyes.

It's not often that Mattheo hates himself. But right now he could kick himself to put the attention on you. "Why would I care about some prissy Hufflepuff?", he grumbles.

Blaise gives him an unimpressed look. "Don't act like you haven't had the biggest crush on the girl since first year. It's getting pathetic, Mattheo. Just go ask her out."

The others around share looks and grins. It pisses Mattheo off. Especially now that his brother's attention is fully on him. Can't they mind their own damn business?

"You're forgetting one thing, idiots."

That is another thing he hates about you. The boy next to you whose sleazy arm is resting on your shoulders. Piece of shit quidditch player and an even worse human being with wandering eyes. Even now, with you sitting so prettily next to him, he dares to make goo-goo eyes with a Gryffindor girl.

Gods it makes Mattheo crazy how you can choose him over any other dickhead at this school. That sleazeball over him.

But when he found you that night alone and moping over your now ex-boyfriend, a small spark of hope lit up inside him. And he took that spark to satisfy his own desires.

And now here you are, sitting in front of each other at the Three Broom Sticks, butterbeer in hand. You nervously trace the rim of the glass while Mattheo observes you. He wants to say something, but you beat him to it.

"So... what are the boundaries of this agreement?"

Mattheo lets out a huff of air. "Whatever you're comfortable with, princess."

Great. That gives you absolutely nothing. "Are you okay with... handholding? Or something similar?"

"Sure. I don't mind. What are your thoughts on nicknames?"

"As long as it's not Pookie. What should I call you? Nicknames are mutual." You send him a teasing eyebrow raise.

Mattheo rolls his eyes playful. "I couldn't care less. Also, to make it believable we should be seen together in school, you know. Otherwise, people won't believe it's real."

To be honest you have no qualms with that. You kinda expected it.

As the negotiations come to a close, the two of you decide to walk around Hogsmeade and get to know each other a little better as you will be seeing a lot of him.

Mattheo practically tackles you as you want to pay, stating that if it was a real date, he wouldn't let his lady pay for anything.

The stroll through Hogsmeade is filled with small talk, asking each other questions about preferences and other small tidbits as you pass by shops. That's how you discover that he's pretty good at Transfiguration and that Madam Pomfrey always gives him candies when he lands in the infirmary again after a Quidditch game.

While Mattheo tells a story about him, Draco and Theodore wrestling for the last apple lollypop Madam Pomfrey had, you round a corner and spot Malcolm walking your way. His hand is in Gladys' but he doesn't pay any attention to her yapping.

"Shit", you curse, ducking behind the wall. Mattheo looks at you with an amused look on his face as you pull him away from the main street by his wrist. "It's him."

The dark-haired boy glances around the corner, his eyes focusing on the sad sack of screechsnaps. The audacity of the guy makes his blood boil. Mattheo turns back towards you. "Do you trust me?"

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes flickering over his face. "My mom always said you shouldn't trust pretty brown eyes", you muse, not knowing how to take his question.

"So you think my eyes are pretty?", he asks, leaning close to you.

His sudden closeness makes you stutter and stumble over your words, the heat rising towards your cheeks. "I- no... what-?"

Mattheo lets out a lach. A genuine one at your confusion. He holds out his hand, palm up, and looks at you expectantly. You lay your hand in his own slowly. At that moment, the two of you realise how big his hand is compared to yours. How — when he laces your fingers together — his hand engulfs your own.

Mattheo pulls you closer, slinging his arm over your shoulder while still holding onto your hand. He pulls the two of you out of the alley and whispers to you that you should laugh like he said something funny.

You can do that. You faked all the time while being with Malcolm, how hard is a laugh? A laugh bubbles from you and you look up at Mattheo.

While you walk, Mattheo angles the two of you so that when you pass your ex, their shoulders bump against each other. The four of you stop and you make eye contact with him.

"(Y/n)", he says surprised, his eyes going from you to Mattheo — who still has his arm wrapped around you.

"Malcolm", you reply icy, clutching on tightly to Mattheo's hand before glancing towards the girl next to him. "Gladys. How... nice to see you."

Gladys gives you a sickly sweet smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "We didn't expect to meet you here. Especially not with... someone." She looks at Mattheo, who pulls you closer towards him.

"Yeah, we quite hit it off during Herbology so we thought why not try it, you know, now she's finally single. Thanks for that, mate." Mattheo cocks his head to the side, silently daring Malcolm.

But Malcolm's wide eyes are laser-focused on you. "Herbology?", he asks, his voice wavering.

"Oh yeah", you nod with a smile, "that Fluxweed report really brought us together, you know. You were right, Malcolm, I just needed to find something I would enjoy about the subject." You bite your tongue to not burst out laughing as you throw his earlier statement back into this face.

Malcolm's face sours and he tugs Gladys' hand before walking away without saying anything. When they're out of earshot, the two of you can't help but laugh.

"Merlin", you chuckle, "he really is pathetic, isn't he?"

Mattheo pulls you towards the opposite direction, his arm still around your shoulders. And weirdly... you don't mind it. He's nice and warm- ew that makes you sound weird. But as the day progresses and the shadows elongate, a shiver rolls down your spine.

Mattheo stops in his steps as the two of you walk back towards the castle. He shrugs off his jacket and holds it open for you to put your hands through the sleeves.

You protest. "I can't take your jacket, don't be silly." Walking past him, he stops you with a hand around your wrist.

"You're not taking it, I'm offering. So don't protest and take the damn jacket." He raises his brows in a silent way to tell you to not challenge him because he will strangle his jacket onto you if he has to.

With your cheeks feeling hot, you reluctantly slide your arms through the sleeves. As you play with the hem of the dark green jacket — which by the way smells like pine and smoke — you turn towards him. "Aren't you cold?", you question as he's only in a black shirt now.

Mattheo shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. "I run hot. Kinda brought the jacket in the hopes to give it to you."

You give him a teasing smile at his confession. "Do you now?"

"I wasn't raised with a lot of good, but at least my aunt instilled some decency into me." He reaches out and grabs his pack of smokes out of a pocket. He lights one and offers it to you. You shake your head and he shrugs.

The rest of the walk back towards the castle is spent in comfortable silence. You totally expect him to wave you goodbye when you enter through the thick wooden doors of the entrance hall, but he keeps on walking with you until you reach your common room.

He has his hands in his pockets as he watches you anxiously scratch at your fingers.

"I've had a lot of fun. Even if it was supposed to be fake. Thank you, Mattheo-"

"Matt."

You blink in confusion at his sudden word vomit. Mattheo himself seems embarrassed. "The whole nickname thing we talked about? You may call me Matt. If you like..."

A wide smile grows on your face. Standing up to your tippy toes, you lay a hand on his shoulder and press a feather-light kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Matt. Have a nice evening."

Feeling like the butterflies in your stomach may burst out of their confinement, you quickly hurry through the barrel but remember that you're still wearing his jacket. When you turn around, you are met with an empty corridor.

Not knowing that the moment you turned around Mattheo Riddle — Heir of Slytherin and all around Hogwartsbad boy — practically sprinted towards the dungeons with his cheeks flaming hot.

It has been a couple of days since your 'date'. Because you've practically announced to the entirety of Hogwarts that the two of you are dating, you spend a lot more time together. At first, it was spent studying together. But slowly you two started to talk to each other more and more. About life and family and expectations.

Turns out the two of you aren't that different.

Hannah and Susan give you smug smiles every time Mattheo walks over towards you or when the two of you are seen together.

A paper crane lands on top of your open book and you look up from your notes. Mattheo — who's seated on the other side of the classroom — nods towards it and motions for you to unfold it.

You pout and shake your head, mouthing 'too adorable' towards him. He rolls his eyes playfully with a smile and flicks his wand, making the crane unfold on itself. Sending a disapproving look, you read the note.

You look over towards him and he does his best puppy eyes. Curse Mattheo Riddle and his beautiful brown eyes. Pursing your lips, you pretend to think about it, being quite dramatic about it. You look up at the ceiling with your brows knitted together while tapping your chin with your finger. But eventually, you drop the act and give him an enthusiastic nod.

Hannah, who has been following the interaction like a tennis match, snorts and almost draws the attention of the teacher towards you both. You hit her shoulder and quickly turn back towards your notes, ignoring the teasing grin on Mattheo's face.

"Shut up", you whisper towards her.

She leans closer to you. "Since when are you and Riddle close enough to hang out?"

Narrowing your eyes at her. "We're supposedly dating, remember?"

You almost don't want to admit it, but the classes can't pass by any quicker. You hardly pay attention in divination and muggle studies, way too excited for your date- wait... is it a date? No. It's just a hangout. Nothing more.

"Have fun with your date", teases Hannah once the final class of the morning is finished and you flip her off as you walk the opposite way.

As you round the corner, you bump against something and stumble slightly back. "Oh sorry", you mumble, finding your footing before looking up. "Oh...", escapes your mouth as you see it's Malcolm.

You move to pass by him but he grabs your shoulders. "I want to talk to you. I miss you..."

Pushing his hands away, you let out a scoff. He's sinking to a lower level than you thought possible. "Miss me? Miss me? What am I? Your mother?" You go to walk again but this time Malcolm's hold becomes stronger. He manoeuvres you towards an empty hallway. He presses you against the wall and you let out an 'oomph'.

"Is he forcing you to act like this? Did he put a curse on you? Are you imperio'd?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks, to check your eyes.

You harshly pull your face out of his hold. "Are you out of your mind?! Let me go!", you protest, trying to wiggle yourself out of his hold. "Mattheo did nothing to me."

He shakes his head, his fists tightening around your robes. "You're such a- a- slut! Opening your legs for any guy who gives you attention."

What the actual fuck! How dare he suggest such a thing?! You reel your head back and spit in his face. It hits him in his eyes and he flinches, stumbling a couple of steps back and wiping at his eyes.

"You bitch!", he wails. Raising his fist, he advances towards you and your hand reaches for your wand. But something comes flying from the side and knocks him off his feet.

Mattheo stands above him, pinning him to the floor and punching him in the face. You're glued to the spot and you can't help but watch how Mattheo beats the living daylights out of him.

Blood runs down his nose and his knuckles are cracked, but Mattheo enjoys beating your ex down to a whimpering mess. He can finally channel his pent-up frustration into something productive. And he won't deny that he didn't want to knock the teeth out of the prick's mouth.

Afraid that someone will spot the fight, you try to pry off Mattheo. You pull against his shoulder and make him lose the rhythm he was beating his fists down with. "Matt! Leave him! He's not worth getting in trouble for!"

Mattheo suddenly realises that you're here also and he gets off the snivelling boy on the ground, flexing and relaxing his hands. You grab one of them and pull him away from the crime scene. He needs to get fixed up, but where? One of the bathrooms is the possibility to be seen big. And you don't want unnecessary people asking questions. And you don't have any supplies in the bathroom.

You could manage to sneak him into your dorm. Most of your housemates are at lunch, so the common room should be empty.

Mattheo calls out your name, trying to make you stop but you shush him and keep on pulling him towards the barreled entrance. Once outside, you let go of his hand. "I'll check if the coast is clear and then I can fix you up."

Without waiting for an answer, you knock on the right barrel and the doors slide open. Glancing around the common room, you see nobody. Which is a surprising sight. Because the common room is so close to the kitchens, a lot of students opt to eat in their dorms. It's mostly the bullied students or the ones who don't want to deal with the Great Hall.

Waving him over, you pull Mattheo through the entrance and practically shove him up the stairs and into your dorm. He finally gets why you're bringing him to your dorm when you push him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and fetch out a first-aid kit from under the sink.

"Do you bring a lot of boys towards your dorm?", asks Mattheo to break the silence as you search through the kit. He feels awkward sitting in your bathroom.

This isn't the first time that he is in another House's common room. He has sneaked into Gryfindor's loats and the parties at Ravenclaw are something you have to experience. But there was always something untouchable about the Hufflepuff area. It is a bragging right to have found out about the code to the entrance but an even bigger deal to be invited in.

And what he has seen so far makes him jealous. The Slytherin common room is always coated in a shade of greenish blue, thanks to the large windows looking into the lake. There is barely any warmth because of the ancient tiles of the dungeons. But here, everything is so warm, so welcome. Even with the only windows at the top, the common room is bright and comforting.

"Oh yeah, loads", you tease, "Especially non 'Puff ones." You give him a half-smile while pinching a cotton swap between your fingers. "Now… be still and this might sting." You dab against the cuts and wounds across his face, cleaning up the blood and disinfecting everything.

Mattheo isn't sure what to do with his hand. He's not sure if he can touch you, or pull you closer towards him while he wants to. He doesn't want to scare you away.

"Tell me a secret", you say softly, surprising yourself and him. When Mattheo gives you a raised eyebrow, you roll your eyes. "We're supposed to be dating, aren't we? Especially after you beat the shit out of my ex it's pretty solid for the students around us. And people who are dating know each other's secrets. So... tell me a secret."

There is an unreadable look on his face and you stop your ministrations, eyes locking with each other. "Did you know some of that piece of shit's secrets?", he muses with a small teasing smile on his face.

You huff. "Some..." Continuing, your movements are a little harsher than before. Because now that you think about it, you knew the bare minimum about Malcolm. It's also not like he let you get to know him. He didn't even come with you to Christmas at your home. And your family does a bomb-ass Christmas party each year. "I'll tell one if you tell one."

Mattheo seems to think for a moment, his focus on a spot over your shoulder as he filters through all his secrets and memories. "My family are Parselmouths."

Your mouth falls open and your hand stops in the air. "Like... like speaking to snakes? As in you hiss against snakes and they hiss back?" You eye him with amazement while his cheeks colour a bright red.

"I- it's not like that!" He tries to laugh away your question. "Parseltongue is more... yeah it's kinda like hissing", he admits, hanging his head a bit.

You wipe away the last of the blood and start to clean up. "Do snakes have accents? Or is it more of a universal language? And can everybody in your family do it?"

It's refreshing to Mattheo to find someone who isn't freaked out by his ability. He also finds your questions amusing. They are different. Fun. "I never noticed the accent thing. But I've only met one snake in real life, so I wouldn't know..."

"Can you say something?" You try your best to give him puppy eyes to convince him. But you've heard that you never were the best at it.

A laugh bubbles from within his chest. He looks at you through his lashes and clears his throat. His Adam's apple bops up and down as he swallows and his lips part. Out comes the strangest sound you ever heard. It's indeed a hissing sound, but at the same time his words — if you can call the noise he makes words — have a strange melody to them. It makes the hairs on your arms stand up straight.

"Wow", you whisper once he's done, "And what does it mean?"

"Well", laughs Mattheo, "That's a know for me and for you to figure out."

You chuckle, grabbing your wand to close the wounds, but he stops it. "Leave them be", he says, "It's proof of me beating his pathetic ass." He traces circles with his thumb atop your hand. "Now… what's your secret?"

You toss your head back with a silent laugh. "Fair. Fair. My family — for as long as we have known — are born Animagi. Every single child has been able to transform into a badger."

He raises his brows. "A badger? How fitting", he teases.

Rolling your eyes at his quip, you lean back against the sink with your hand still in his. You don't mind it, you even slightly enjoy it. The way the rough pad of his finger feels against your skin. "The whole Hufflepuff area kinda looks like a burrow. I get where Meemaw got the idea."

Mattheo lets out a sudden laugh. "Meemaw?" There is no ill content behind his laugh. It brings a smile of your own to your face.

"Helga Hufflepuff. She has a painting above the fireplace that's connected with one at home. Also above the fireplace", you laugh. But it slowly melts off your face as your words dawn upon you.

Mattheo slowly starts to become concerned at the look on your face. Your heart races in your chest. How could you be so stupid? How could you have forgotten about Meemaw?

"The painting is connected with home! Oh fuck! She will snitch on me! And now Mom and Dad will think we're...-!"

"Think we're what? Sleeping together? Is that such a horrible idea?" Mattheo straightens his back and his eyes darken.

You shake your head, running a hand over your face. "That's not what I meant. I wouldn't mind it, but I don't want my parents to know that! Ew", you frown and a shudder runs through your body.

The boy before you stands up and closes the space between the two of you. "You wouldn't mind?", he muses with a teasing grin on his face. He turns your head with his knuckles so you're looking at him and traces your bottom lip slowly.

Your lips part as you look up at him through your lashes. Your breath quickens and you feel his chest pressed against you with each rise of your chest. His scent fills your senses and consumes you. It's overwhelming. It makes your stomach do flips.

You wonder if he feels the same.

Just as you slowly angle your face towards him and close your eyes, a knock on the door makes you jump. Mattheo stumbles back, almost crashing against the toilet and landing in the bathtub.

"One- one moment!", you call out, quickly cleaning up the first-aid kit. Mattheo scrambles to straighten himself up before helping you.

The two of you share a look before you open the door. Mattheo slips out and rushes out of your dorm and out of the common room.

"No way?!", gasps Susan, her mouth agape.

"Was that-?", asks Hannah with wide eyes.

Sending the two girls a look. "Not one word!"

The next morning at breakfast your panic turns out not misplaced as your family's house owl comes flying towards you with a sealed letter for you.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12

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webslingingslasher · 1 year ago

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banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

because of the character count (145,091) and tumblrs format skills (it's shit) i had to adjust some sizing but i wanted all of this in one part.

CHAPTER ONE: BRUJA

PETER PARKER’S FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

Steve Jobs is lucky he’s dead.

Because if he wasn’t, he’d have to deal with a pissed off Peter Parker woken up with a brooding hangover by the screeches of marimba.

Peter wasn’t sure whose idea it was to throw a goodbye summer bash the night before classes started but he wishes them death. A ‘goodbye summer' party, what a dumb fucking idea. It’s college, every day is summer. If he’s picked up anything from being with the frat for two years it’s that they’ll make up any excuse to party.

International Women’s Day? Guys can only get in if they’re half naked.

Valentine’s Day? Singles dress as cupid, couples in red and pink.

Friday the 13th? Horror movie character costumes only.

St. Patrick's Day? That’s what those guys lived for.

It didn’t matter what it was, if there was cause for celebration and drinking, it was going to be a party. Trying to ease a headache he rubbed his temples, it did nothing and proved useless when someone banging a spoon and pot in the kitchen made his ears ring.

“Chapter meeting! Chapter meeting! Chapter-” Peter yelled as loud as he could, “shut the fuck up!” His head throbbed.

God, he fucking hated the start of the year, all the new people coming in sucking up to him and everyone else in the frat. The secondary members used it to their advantage, most of the officers didn’t impress easily, only using them when they felt like laughing at someone desperately trying to please.

He had to redo the entire budget, and had to run through the same health and safety meeting that would get ignored, and then he’d have to get physical when someone pushed the rules a little too far.

Peter had a hangover from hell and almost gagged getting up from bed, shuffling towards his bedroom door in just sweatpants. Yawning and scratching at his scalp as he walked down the stairs, he made the routine walk to the meeting room door that was open, a hidden room behind a bookcase, only chapter officers allowed.

The room was dark, a gigantic oak table took up the center of the room, black leather chairs surrounded. The frats name and logo grinded into the middle. A pool table in one corner, a bar in the back and several leather couches. Peter took his seat and nodded at his friend next to him, the chapter president paced the front of the room with notes, when the last guy entered the door was shut behind him.

“Welcome to the hunt boys, we waited all year for this.”

Trent Simpson, chapter president. Deep alumni, the fraternity in his family for generations.

“Before we start the meeting, please state who you are and your role on the board. Obviously, I’m Trent Simpson, your president.”

“Matt Paul, chapter vice president.”

“Nick Aaron, secretary.”

“Ethan Keznek, sergeant-at-arms.”

“Peter Parker, treasurer and health and safety officer.”

“Tarrent Bakner, recruitment chairman.”

“James Hasco, housing officer.”

“Booker Thomas, membership development.”

Trent clapped his hands and motioned to the black folder everyone had. “Welcome to the first meeting of our rushing season for Sigma Nu. In each of your folders you’ll see our potential new members, if you don’t see anyone you like, time to tell me is now.”

Peter eyed the page, only one thing set him off. Ted and Harry Linus, twins. He hated twins, last year he had gotten put in the middle of so many fights he swore he’d never let twins back in his house.

Peter’s hand jotted up, clicking his pen quickly. “Nix the twins.” Trent crossed out the names with a sharpie, “nixed.”

“Next are the outline of our weeks with the rush, and hazing schedules. Parker, I want you and Keznek to print up the chapter handbooks.” Ethan held his fist up towards Peter, he tapped his knuckles on his and looked over the schedule.

“Finally, and this is a new one. I acquired a friend that can get some hard to get info really easily, so what you see in front of you is every fraternity's event.”

Interesting, that’s a pretty hard thing to get your hands on, let alone fifteen. Fraternity events were highly competitive, and if they had every event in their back pocket they could be number one.

Peter fought back a yawn, he wanted nothing more than another two hours of sleep. But his day began here, in a chapter officer meeting, on a Tuesday, with a hangover and only time to prepare for class. God, he really didn’t want to go to class today. He can barely remember what he signed up for.

“... again, that’ll be next Tuesday, and like usual, freshman welcome on Friday. Any more questions before we close?”

Booker’s hand goes up, “what about the sororities?”

“Great question, we’ll only be circling with Zeta and Omega.”

Peter nods approvingly, that’s nice to hear. Last year they partnered with four sororities and even the party guys were getting a little overwhelmed. It sucked they had to use the frat houses for parties but they chipped in and bought way better alcohol, not to mention all the fucking girls, it was truly pick of the litter.

Matt Paul shoots out, “can we please promise each other right now we won’t have another Sara situation?”

There was a reason Peter had two positions, Logan Leeman freaked out when Sara Niks dumped him. Actually went full blown nuts and had to be carted off in an ambulance, no one’s heard from him since.

“God that was awful, I mean, he knew the chick for what, four months?”

Peter nodded absentmindedly at Nick’s comment, disconnecting from the conversation and running numbers through his head. His attention was brought back when Trent smacked his gavel on the soundblock.

“We’re back baby, and it’s open fucking season. One, two, three,”

The brotherhood chanted, “Sig Nu!”

—------------

Peter’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair when someone bangs on his bathroom door, he calls out over the rushing water, “yeah?”

“Hey, some of the guys and I are gonna hit up the food hall before we gotta split, you down?”

He can’t lie, the dining hall is damn good. He’s missed the breakfast burritos, and Linda. She’s been working in the kitchen at the university for over twenty years, he got to talking to her one day and now goes out of his way to give her a hello. He can’t wait to catch up and tell her all about his summer, and fuck, he’d kill for an orange juice. Oh god, he has to do so much grocery shopping.

“Yeah, give me ten minutes!” As if on command his stomach growls, he’s reminded of his hangover and he has physics in two hours. At least the shower’s warm. It’s his saving grace.

University has been good on Peter, he looks like he belongs; top dog on campus feels good. He fills out his frat tee better this year, spidey working double time this summer to make up for the slow six months he’s about to have. Heather gray and red detailing, his pants black, and a signature white snapback. He should’ve gotten a haircut, but he chose to drink like an idiot. The night was fun though, it was worth it in the moment.

Taking a final glance, Peter tucks the chain around his neck into his shirt, and takes a deep breath before his first day of his junior year starts.

He’s ready.

—----------------

“Did anyone see Trevor slam his head against the wall last night or was that just me?”

“You mean Lopes?” Peter really wishes he was around to see that.

Hasco is on level ten, Peter’s convinced he’s off a bump or two of coke, he’s just a tad too twitchy for his liking. “Bro, he just bounced that fucker off the wall. Stared at me and did it. No fucking reason. He’s fucking crazy.”

Peter snorts, “why, was he off the powder?” He bites down on his bottom lip when his friends toss him around by his shoulders giving soft ‘oo’s’ at his jab. Hasco flips him the bird, “even if he was, that’s fucked up, right?”

Keznek follows up, “you think he’d do it again if i asked?”

Nick pipes up, “ten down on yes,” Tarrent raises a finger, “coked up or sober?”

“Does it matter?”

Tarrent nods, “fair enough.”

Peter cuts through the bullshit, “can we please talk about Simpson and the fucking list this year? Thirty two people is such bullshit, at this point it’s just a dick measuring contest with Alpha Delta.”

Hasco sniffs as he nods his head, “yeah, not to mention all the fucking shuffling. Too many people for no reason, especially because we’re cutting twelve almost immediately.” Nick scoffs, “you’re telling me, I have to keep track of every motherfucker going in and out.”

Peter’s best friend lets out a refreshing sigh, “I got the best job, I just make sure Tarrent does his job.” Hasco barks back, “shut the fuck up, Keznek.”

“If I may, I have the worst out of all of you combined. I have to keep track of every fucking receipt, everyone’s dues, every god damn bill. Then I get to sit around and try to teach consent to a bunch of brain dead eighteen year olds.”

“And safety! Don’t forget all the fights you had to break up last year.”

It’s just so fucking tiring sometimes, but he’s the reason he and the entire frat have a place to sleep. “Thanks for the reminder, Nick.” Nick claps his shoulder, “anytime, bud.” Tarrent starts humming, “I’m getting so much food, you have no idea.”

“I’m doubling down on burritos.”

Ethan sucks in a breath, “me too.”

Tarrent opens the doors to the dining hall and voices explode, overlapping chatter from every corner. It pierced through his ears and stabbed at his headache, Hasco sniffs and nods his head impressively, “fuck yeah,” bumping Peter’s shoulder when he walked in.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Ethan holds back a chuckle at Peter’s audible mumble, choosing to mock Hasco instead, nodding at Peter walking by, “fuck yeah, man.”

Peter nods towards Paul, sitting at a table with his girlfriend and who he assumes are her friends, he doesn’t care enough to actually look. Paul barely gives him a wave between inhaling his burrito, he’s gotten three, meaning he has to do an impressive four, unless Tarrents goes for four, then he’s maxing out at five.

Things you learn in a frat, it’s the little things that mean the most dominance wise.

He hangs at the back of the line so he can catch up with his favorite lunch lady on campus, until the closer he gets he can’t see her. Moving his head back and forth but coming up short he assumes she’s in the kitchen. She usually worked the register in the morning and afternoon, but he supposes new year, a new schedule.

Peter slides through the line with six breakfast burritos and a fruit cup, because it’s all about balance. Giving that deathly smile to his second favorite lunch lady, “hey, Mrs. Zoe. How was your summer?”

Sweat dots her forehead, “hot and long, how about yours, honey?” He can’t complain much, he actually took it slow. “Pretty good, hey, um, is Linda around?” Peter doesn’t know what it is but he knows it’s bad by the way Zoe’s face drops, she looked younger than she was, until she was full frowning, then she looked every bit of sixty.

“You didn’t hear?” Peter’s scared to say no but still shakes his head.

“Oh, shit. She dropped a pot on her foot just the right way and shattered the whole thing. She ran out of time off and was let go.”

Peter feels everything in him shake with rage.

Linda took care of him for the past two years of his life, and worked harder than he ever has in his entire life. She dedicated decades of her life to this place, an institution built on community, until one got hurt. Linda made sure that even if he was away from home, he was still fed with love. She talked to him, they formed a bond, he asked about her granddaughter all the time, her husband was sick, she was supporting the house, now what?

“They fired her?” He’s full of pain and anger but his voice comes out timid.

Mrs. Zoe nods her head solemnly, Peter looks at his tray, he’s not so hungry anymore knowing Linda didn’t make a thing on it. Suddenly six burritos seem daunting.

“Is she okay?” That’s all that mattered. He had to fix this, he wasn’t sure how yet but it’s his personal mission to get her back where she belonged.

“She’s still healing up but I guess the university gave her a nice severance package, so she’ll be okay for a while.”

The line’s starting to back up, “do you think I could get her number? I’ll come back for lunch and get it, if you think that’s okay.”

A beaming smile, she looks young again, her eyes crinkle and it shows her joy. “I think she’d love that. I’ll get it for you.” Even if he’s mad, he gives her a polite smile, “thanks, Mrs. Zoe.”

Peter’s heart races as he walks away, the situation swirling in his mind, how fucked it all was. He doesn’t care if they gave her a severance package, she got hurt at work. They should’ve held her job, they should’ve given her a break for the first time in over twenty years.

How could he fix this? Maybe he could get the frat to do a petition, if they sign it then most of the school would get on board. Or shit, what if they go on protest? Do they sit in strike until they give in to the demand? What if he gets-

“So sorry!”

Peter stopped himself from stumbling any further, caught off guard and in the midst of a breakdown he took it out on the assaulter. He doesn’t care if it was an accident, he’s not hard to miss, they just weren’t looking, or paying attention.

And he can see why, big doe eyes blinking at him. Like they’ve never seen an adult man, as if his presence alone was enough to send them into fight or flight. There’s one reason and one reason only, and it’s written all over their face.

“Fucking freshman,” he hates them like no other, last year was enough to paint them in a negative light forever. They were babies, new to drinking, new to being on their own, new to parting. And the entitlement was off a new chart level, they thought they were the big dogs because they finally reached adulthood.

The kind of entitlement that sent them running into people three times their size.

The girl's face changed, she went from frightened to pissed in under three seconds. It almost impressed him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him directly in the eye. For a second he felt challenged, like someone he had to nearly look down on had equal footing against him. All from a freshman no less.

Her words hit directly, she packed a punch behind them and meant each word as they spewed.

“I hope you fucking choke.”

Peter was left speechless, watching her stomp off, while slowly approaching the table his friends occupied. Hasco and Keznek bickering back and forth, which was pointless, Hasco always has to have the last word.

“Explain this one to me,” he immediately caught attention.

“Some freshman knocked into me, almost made me drop everything, then told me she hoped I’d choke. I mean, what the fuck?”

Peter has to look away when Tarrent spews his idea, egg dropping from his mouth.

“She wants to fuck you bro.” Sometimes his stupidity hurts, “what? It was a twenty second interaction and she told me to die.”

“Yeah, that’s how it always starts.”

The table goes quiet, Ethan’s the first to speak. “Tarrent, I think you should sit in on Parker’s health and safety course for a refresher.”

“Oh. Okay.”

—------------------------

Peter thinks he’s a little too hungover and it’s a little too early for him to focus on mechanics and math, so he chooses to look over his syllabus and yawn.

His year was littered with hard classes, approaching the end of his major and now everything counted. The pressure was on, he was prepared to make this his year. He was done with the little kid shit, it was time he got serious and put his future first.

How boring of him, he was going to need Ethan to help bounce him back.

Peter’s first and only class of the day was intro to quantum mechanics, having to sit through that much math and theory made his already pounding headache increase tenfold. Taking a harsh inhale he pulled out his phone for the brother’s group chat, hiding his phone in his lap while his new professor droned on.

‘Who’s fucking idea was this party? I’m dying rn.’

‘Blame Paul.’

‘that’d be pauly.’

‘Keznek emphasized ‘blame paul.’

‘blame me!’

‘Fuck you, paul.”

Peter would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little bit better. Still, blinking under the fluorescent lighting he wished he could wish his hangover away, he’s never felt this shitty in his life, he’s sure of it. He only had forty minutes left, all he had to do was make it through the lesson, buy his books and spend the rest of the day in bed hiding from every and all light and sound.

It wouldn’t be a terrible year, his professor was the textbook definition of MILF. Blonde bob with streaks of gray, an hourglass figure and oval glasses. Her pantsuit hugged her curves and for a moment he thinks her husband is a lucky guy.

Plus he was pocketed between the hottest chick on campus and some mega genius, so smart Peter was put to shame. It wouldn’t be a bad week either, after he got this girl's number and invited her over to a party. Peter politely sat through the lecture, going over the syllabus with his professor's powerpoint and writing down anything he deemed important.

Then the hour was over and he deserved a treat. He worked hard, so now he can play hard.

Fighting through his looming hangover and using every ounce of charm, he turns his head and smiles at the girl. She had long, slick black hair and he wanted to wrap every bit of it around his fist.

“Hey, I’m Parker.”

She has a nice smile, and a nose ring, he wonders what else is pierced.

“Hey, I’m Rose.”

He’s not sure if it’s a nickname or her real name, it doesn’t matter to him, it suits her well. Peter can see a peek of a tattoo that blossomed from her chest. He wanted to unwrap her like a present and figure her out.

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I just had to let you know I think I have the best seat partner in the whole room.”

“I know, right? Teddy is hella smart.” Her grin tells him she knows what he meant by his comment.

“You seem pretty smart too, maybe we should exchange numbers in case I need any help?”

God, her smile is fucking raident.

“Not sure my girlfriend would like that too much, Parker.”

He exhales a breath, “oh you were waiting to say that.”

Rose nods, “it’s always a fun bomb to drop. Nobody thinks I’m a lesbian until I say it, then I get the-”

“I can see it.”

Her hand raises, “point in case.” She’s still cool. And he has four months with her.

“Let me try again. Hey, Rose, would you and your girlfriend like to come to our party on friday?”

There’s that fucking smile. “We’d love to.”

Peter nods his head, okay with the turn of events. “Alright, Rose, I’ll see you and…”

“Lily,” she fills in for him.

“Lily, how perfect. I’ll see both friday.”

Peter gathers his things and stands, his first try of the year was a swing and a miss, unless…

“Hey, if you were straight would-”

“My girlfriend will kill you, tread carefully, new friend.”

Peter can’t wait to meet her, he already likes her.

—-------------

Peter’s day just got longer or more miserable, because as he should’ve assumed, the bookstore line was wrapped around the building. If only he had given himself a head start, he could’ve done this days ago but there were other things in his personal life he had to wrap up first.

Just so he could sit in line, under the sun, with a hangover, to buy hundreds of dollars worth of textbooks he’d never use again.

Ray Bans rested on his nose, blocking the glare of the sun. He kept refreshing his twitter feed but was quickly bored, switching to instagram and endlessly scrolling. Liking a few pictures, his brother’s party posts, an old classmate’s ‘moving back in!’ post, a summer throwback bikini picture from a girl he’d hooked up with a few times the year prior.

Jostling forward, Peter had to stabilize his stance. Caught off guard and his back ran into, he had to admit it just wasn’t his day.

He scoffs as the assaulter mutters out apologies.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!”

Turning sideways to look at the girl he gave a bitter laugh, “Jesus Christ, freshman. Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.”

The girl in front of him looked pissed, “I said sorry, you don’t have to be so mean.”

Peter pulled his head back and turned to face her full on. “You’re telling me about mean? You knocked into me twice and said you’d hope I fucking choke, if we’re tallying scores I’d think you’re the bully, sweetheart.”

She huffs, “does the misogynistic shtik always work for you?”

He holds his hand to his chest, “misogynistic, because I called you sweetheart? I’d say that’s irony, or sarcasm, because you’ve been anything but sweet.”

“Well… maybe I’d be nicer if you were.”

Peter’s having fun with this, she’s just shittalking him to do it, and he kinda respects that. His hands move as he speaks, emphasizing his point. “You hit me! Why do I have to be nice?”

The girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in defense. “I bumped you, I hope you’re majoring in acting because you could win an oscar for your dramatics.”

His tongue pokes at his cheek, a cocky grin spreads. “Babe, I’m the best at what I do. You think I’d be here and not at Juilliard?”

Peter won, she scoffs and opens her mouth before shutting it and spinning on her heel, turning her back on him.

“Realized you couldn’t win?”

He turns back around, hiding a grin, fumbling for his phone in his back pocket. He opens up the ‘Captain Nu’ group chat and sends out a message.

‘The entitlement from these freshmen gets worse every year.’

‘true dat. this freshie charles just got coffee all over me, i can’t wait to ruin his year.’

‘rip charles. never had a chance.’

‘@trent ally just said her friend is gonna do the ski trip after all.’

‘@paul, Ally’s got a friend? 👀’

‘@parker, lol, yea.’

‘paul is the world's worst wingman, lmaoooo.’

‘Of course he is, he met the girl he’s gonna marry at 16.’

‘@parker maybe u would too if you bothered to know their name after.’

‘@parker if anyone has dibs on ally’s friend it’s me. we’ve already been in talks. 🤔’

‘@trent, yo, tf? We’re gatekeeping now?’

‘@paul, invite her to the party friday. We’ll see who she wants, @trent’

‘🫡’

‘Hold on, Parker’s betting on a chick? I’m getting a lawn chair & a 12 pack rn.’

‘Good thing your name isn’t in the mix, isn’t it? @keznek’

‘ally said she’s coming, my money’s on trent, sorry parker.’

‘Hmmm, I dunno, Paul. Parker’s got that underdog in him.’

‘At least E believes in me.’

Glancing up, and noticing a gap in the line he moves up. Putting his phone back in his pocket he glances over his shoulder and peers at the girl with her gaze locked in on her phone screen. He’s learned several things while at the frat, one of the most important, you can never have too many options.

She’d probably show up anyways, but if she was invited by him to his frat for their freshman welcome party, she’d definitely show up and if Trent wins, he’d have his bases covered. Clearing his throat and turning one eighty, Peter walked backwards to keep up in line, she followed with small steps. Smirking, he stopped quickly, her shoe toe hitting his own.

She looked up quickly, “this one’s on me, sweetheart.”

Her mouth opened, but he talked before she could. Before he could regret inviting her. Worst comes to worse, she’d be a good hate fuck.

“Has anyone shown you frat row yet?”

“I’m not-” she gives a frustrated sigh, “yes, I know where frat row is.”

“Cool, so I’m Parker. I’m in Sigma Nu,” he gestures to the emblem on his corner pocket. “And on the first Friday of the school year we throw a freshman welcome party, you should come.”

Peter can tell she’s trying to figure out his motive, it’s kind of cute, the way she's analyzing him. He immediately throws that idea from his head, he doesn’t find girls cute, he finds them attractive. Cute implies you want them to hang around and she’s nothing but infuriating.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Keeping watch of the line he backs up further, he’s three away from being saved from the sun.

“That’s a personal invite, babe.”

She gasps, it smells of sarcasm. “My goodness, in that case I must show! How else will I know my worth when I watch you make out with another girl across the house?”

That stumbles him a bit, not used to his game being called outright. Even if that was something that might happen, being told it would happen made him feel a little shitty.

“That’s not at all what I-”

Her hand stops him, “you have backup plan written all over your face, I think the summer made you lose some of that frat boy edge.”

He just met this chick, after she threw herself into him twice, and now she’s telling him who he is? God damn, the entitlement is reeking from every orifice.

“You-”

“Line.”

He had to accept the loss and enter the store, but the second he saw her at his party, he’d throw in a few choice words. Remind the freshman who was on top.

He was Peter Parker and he was the treasure and health and safety officer, and this was his fucking year. Hangovers and all.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH.

Peter’s looking at a house across from him, it’s a faded yellow with maroon shutters. A plethora of flowers covered the base foundation, the grass was a little long, definitely a few weeks since the last cut.

It looked like a home.

He could picture a series of generations passing in and out the front door, it was a small house but the love he felt looking at it felt big. Peter felt just as much love for the woman inside the house, stepping over cracks in the concrete he knocked on the door and looked down at his feet while he ran lines through his head.

A growing smile took over when the door cracked open, frizzy gray hair poked through. When Linda caught sight of him the door swung open, her arms went right around him, squeezing him with all her might.

“Peter! Oh my goodness, I thought I wouldn’t see you again! I was going to send you a letter but you beat me to it!” Joy filled his heart, Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders and laughed. “Mrs. Zoe helped me, I thought she’d call you. Guess not.”

Linda gave him a parting squash before cupping his cheeks, “she knew I’d love the surprise.” She looks behind her, “wanna come in for some tea?” He took her up on the offer, he needed to let her know that he and the school needed her and he was willing to do whatever he could to get her back where she belonged.

A blue oriental rug ran from the front door into the kitchen. Peter dropped his backpack by an entrance table and kicked his shoes off. While he looked around at the family pictures stretched across the walls he felt something rub against his legs, a scratchy meow followed.

Peter looked down at an orange crusty cat, his heart melted. He wasted no time in picking them up and curling them to his chest, “is this Nelly?” Linda turned and smiled at her cat butting her head against Peter’s hand, “yes, she’s an attention grabber. Now you’ve held her, she'll expect it every visit.”

As he followed Linda he looked deeper into the home, his stomach tugged when he looked into a bedroom off from the living room, an old man lying still in a hospital bed, three full IV bags hanging off a medical pole.

The sun was coming through the kitchen window creating a sunspot, a sleeping chihuahua was soaking it up.

“Teeny?” He already knew the answer.

Linda bent down to pet the old dog, she mumbles while Teeny licks at her nose. “Yes, tú eres mi cariño, isn’t that right?” The cat in Peter’s hold pushed at his chest, a guttural meow while she looked at her food bowl.

Setting her down, he looked back up to a young female standing by a cabinet, she seemed vaguely familiar. She looked a little flustered, and brushed down her shirt to prove it could fit better.

“Hi.” Peter took a shot in the dark, “Hey, Kat. Nice braids.”

Her face exploded in a smile, a faint blush crossed her cheeks. “You remember me?”

“Yeah, I think we met my first year, you went…”

“...to work with my grandma after I got in trouble that summer!” She finished for him.

Linda moved around the small area, setting a bright red kettle on the stove.

“You were what, fifteen?” Kat’s face went neutral, “I’m eighteen now, Peter.” Kat crossed her arms, subtly pushing her cleavage up. She’s pretty, but she’s too young for him, she can try to make it happen all she wants but he respects Linda too much.

“Kathrine, go let Teeny out.” It seems like Linda doesn’t want it to happen either.

“But-” Kat flinches when Linda points a wooden spoon at her, “you dare question me in my own home? Desagradecida!” Her granddaughter hangs her head and slowly passes Peter, going out of her way to brush against his shoulder, he lets her have it.

The second the porch door slides shut Linda points the spoon at him, “not gonna happen, frat boy. Comprende?” Peter holds his hands up, “comprendido, comprendido!” A smile forms, crinkles by her eyes shows Peter she’s no real threat.

“Green or herbal?”

Peter glances at a pouty Kat in the backyard, it brings him back to his early teens. It makes him slightly chuckle, she’d be fine, the first rejection always hurts the most.

“Green, please.”

Peter’s been on a roll, spewing everything he thinks she needs to hear about his summer and upcoming school year. She’s nodding along and asking questions when an alarm starts beeping, she jumps from her seat and holds out an arm. “Be right back.” When she tucks herself into the bedroom her husband’s in, Peter feels a little sick.

It’s the elephant in the room when she returns, she sits back in the teal chair across from him and tosses hair behind her shoulder. Linda’s hands wrap around her mug, steam billows when she blows on the rim. She gives him a knowing smirk, “you want to ask about Ronaldo, don’t you?”

Peter feels shy, he does want to make sure she’s okay, but also knows it’s not something to really bring up. “Is he okay?” It’s a dumb question, he has to hold back on wincing when she shakes her head. “No. He’s comfortable for now, and he’s home. That’s all he ever wanted while he was in the hospital.”

He swallows thickly, “is he in hospice?” Linda grabs his hand, “he is. It’s been hard, but we’ve made every decision together. He gave me and our family his best years, I think it’s time I take the brunt.”

She wears a sad smile, but Peter can still see how strong she is underneath. Patting his hand she follows up like she knows where he’s going.

“And I am very thankful I get to spend our last moments together by his side. I know it seems like bad luck, but that damn pot put me where I needed to be.” Peter’s smile is faulty, “so, you can’t be swayed into coming back?”

“No, cariño. I can’t.”

“But it feels so unfair! They should’ve given you something.”

Linda clicks her tongue at him, “trust me, mi amor, I know what unfair is. And what happened was a grace of God. I get to watch my husband peacefully pass, and I get to spend the rest of my life watching my family grow. I can finally go see my great grandchildren in Mexico, my life is anything but unfair. ”

If there’s anyone he wants the best for it’s Linda, and if she sees it as a blessing he could too. He takes a moment, “so, the severance package was good?”

Linda scoffs, “if you call twenty five years pay at once good, then it’s good.”

It was everything Peter needed to hear.

Peter finishes off his tea, “I’m still gonna miss you, Linda. No one can make a breakfast burrito like you. Or cut fruit! You should’ve seen the slices of cantaloupe, not one uniform cut!”

A warm hand is cupped around his cheek, “you come by anytime for a meal. I know you’re local, but if you ever need a mom, a place to lay low, or an open door with no questions asked, you know where I am.”

It brings tears to his eyes, he blinks fast, chuckling when a tear drops. Peter wipes at it with his sleeve, “I’m really, really, gonna miss you.”

“You won’t miss me too much, you’ll be coming by every Wednesday for breakfast. Comprende?”

Peter blows a sharp breath before laughing, “comprendido.”

—--------------------

Spider-Man pats his tummy looking over the skyline.

Linda made him a full cast iron of Huevos Rancheros, and when his eyes widened at the size she laughed and said, “What? You suddenly lost your appetite over the summer?” He had not, and ate the entire thing.

Peter wishes he took up her offer to sleep on the couch while she watches reruns of ‘La Patrona.’ He politely declined, but tortillas and spicy eggs mixing in his stomach made him wish he was taking a nap.

He feels lead in his gut as he swings across the street, too sluggish to fight; he holds out a hand to stop a runaway bike thief. He went flying over the handlebars at an extreme speed, Spider-Man just watched and shrugged.

An eight year old appeared, throwing his arms around Spider-Man and squeezing. Peter lets out a squeak, “alright, Spidey had a little too many eggs for breakfast-” the kid backs away and stares in amazement.

“No way! I had eggs for breakfast too!”

“Look at us, coupla egg eating guys.”

The kid hugs him again, a panicked mother catches up. “Jacob! You can’t run away from me like-” Jacob bounces as he screams, “Mom! Mom! Spider-Man saved my bike! And, and, and guess what! He had eggs for breakfast too!”

Sometimes the pure excitement of who he was made the shitty parts of his job manageable.

“That’s awesome, honey! But you really can’t run away from mom like that.”

Spider-Man crouches to Jacob’s height, and nods at his mom. “You know what I did when I was eight?” Jacob’s eyes grow wide, “no, what?!”

“I listened to my mom. And I ate all my vegetables.”

“Woah.” The child turns to his mom, she gives a knowing look to Spider-Man. “Mom! We have to go get broccoli!” She smiles at her son, “sure thing, buddy.” Holding his bike steady he takes mount, she mouths a thank you and Spider-Man waves her off.

Jacob gives a parting salute, “bye, Spider-Man!”

Peter feels like he’s going to puke when he takes flight, he thinks for a second, then starts heading east.

May doesn’t mind that he stopped by for a mid-morning nap.

—---------------------------

After running through the budget four times, Peter’s positive he’s got the first two weeks handled.

Then, he’d have to rework the entire thing weekly until the final placements were made. And he still has that powerpoint to re-touch, after last year he had quite a few things to add to his health and safety presentation.

Oh, and the chapter handbooks. That only took up an entire afternoon, even with two people working it. And grocery shopping tonight, he might be able to strong arm Ethan into going with him.

Not to mention how he doubled up on physics this year, just because he’s gotten used to self-atonement.

Everything was fine, it wasn’t like he was stressed already.

Peter waited until the last minute, but he burned more time than necessary and finally pushed himself from his desk chair to go to the chapter’s private quarters, a meeting with Trent mandatory.

It’s nothing too personal on Trent, but he just doesn’t like him. There wasn’t a real reason, just a general dislike. He was a bit too frat boy for him, although it makes sense, he’s the president, he’s had to make it his entire personality. But still, his subtle misogyny and hint of alpha male made Peter keep his distance.

Checking for the fifth time, Peter opens the hidden door and slides in.

“Parker!”

“What’s up, Simpson?”

Trent looks up grinning, his eyes clocking the folder in Peter’s hand. “Got my reports?” Peter hands over the folder, Trent opens it immediately and looks it over, nodding impressively at the number.

“Thirty two recruits and you did this magic? I think I’ll keep you around, Parker. Speaking of, where are we on the shopping?”

Peter wants to grit his teeth, when Trent said he was treasurer and everything money related would be run through him, he wasn’t exaggerating. “I have late classes tomorrow, so I’ll go tonight. I’m gonna get together with Tarrent and see what’s on the menu, plan around that.”

Trent nods approvingly, “he’s on strict recruitment duty the next two days, so keep it short. We’ve doubled PNM's.”

Peter keeps a straight face, “yeah, I know.”

Trent picks up a tilt, “got a problem with it, Parker?”

There’s that alpha, the subtle shift of dominance that runs rapidly in a house full of testosterone.

“Not one, Simpson. It’s like you said, it’s open fucking season.” That makes him proud, “you’re damn right, baby. Now go fill up my fridge.”

Peter nods, “I’ll check with Bakner and get Keznek to come with me. Anything else?”

“Yes! I forgot, I’m thinking this year you do the health and safety for everyone. Not just the new recruits. I think some of these newer guys need to be reminded of what this campus and frat really stands for.”

And Peter thinks that’s a really good idea. Maybe Trent wouldn’t be that awful this year.

“Oh, Parker, one more thing?” One more thing, that’s fine, he doesn’t have enough on his plate.

“Yeah?”

“Harvey’s coming back on Friday, make sure he’s got a spot set up in here.”

“I’ll make Hasco do it, he’s the housing officer.” Trent must not like his tone, “I know who Hasco is, Parker. Just do what I fucking say.”

Okay, he might be awful this year.

“Sure, yeah, you got it. Anything else,” your highness? He added in his head.

“Tell Paul I need to meet with him, this Ally shit is annoying. He needs to know what he’s committed to.”

His girlfriend, he’s committed to his girlfriend. And since she’s a human being, she takes priority over a frat house but Trent can’t wrap his thick skull around the idea of it.

“Got it.”

God bless the woman that ever puts up with that.

—--------------------

Three sheets of notebook paper, that’s how long the shopping list was.

Tarrent was prepared and that was appreciated. Instead of having to sit around while he scrambled to prepare something, when Peter knocked on his door and asked about the groceries all he was granted was a grunt and an arm shoving out crumpled printer paper.

Peter and Ethan walked down the cereal aisle side by side, each had a half full cart.

“So, I was thinking about the Salander sisters. You think they’d hate me if I went after both and took the one that chooses me?”

Peter grabs six cereal boxes off the shelf, tossing the stack in his cart, he crosses off another item on the list, He’s only got two and a quarter pages left, next time, he’s bringing the pledges.

“Aren’t they twins?”

Ethan corrects him, “Irish twins, there’s a difference.” His attention drifted to where his best friend’s pointing, “fruit roll ups, twelve of ‘em. Which one are you trying first?” Ethan shakes his head piling cardboard and throwing it in his cart. “As if it’s a question, obviously it’s Sara.”

“I thought you were more into Sam,” cause he swore he was, “oatmeal, four of each flavor.”

Ethan speaks over his shoulder, quaker oats sailing, Peter catching each one. “Until she picked you to kiss during that stupid card game.”

Peter remembers, he apologized to Ethan after too. Ethan wouldn’t hear it, it wasn’t Peter’s fault he was picked, and Ethan made sure he knew it. Sam kissed him, Sam chose him, and he wasn’t owed any real loyalty, they’d only chatted a few times at a few different parties.

Still, that night had left a bad taste in Ethan’s mouth and she shot to the bottom of his list real fast. Peter had never spoken to her before that night, but Ethan had. And she still chose Peter.

‘I wanted to tell her no but then I'm the asshole.’

‘Dude, forget about it. It’s not like you stepped on any toes, if anything, you got a hookup tonight.’

It was tempting, but it was an unspoken agreement that any girl the other one liked, was off limits. So, he never even tried.

“If it helps, she was a bad kisser. It was wet.”

Ethan shudders, “not sloppy?”

Peter doubles down, “wet.”

“Do you think Sara’s the same way? Cause I can’t do sloppy kisses.” Raising a finger, Peter corrects him, making his way to the dairy section. “Wet, Keznek, it was wet.”

“If you think a kiss was wet, what are the chances she also-”

Peter cuts him off, “no, we’re not going there.”

“Boo, no fun, how much milk do we need?”

“A gallon of literally everything.”

“We’re going to be here forever, I have moves to make, Parker.”

A snort, “oh yeah? What’s on the radar for tonight?”

“I don’t know yet, I’m stuck in a grocery store.

Ethan is such a whiner, he’d do anything you asked but was a martyr through and through.

Peter’s got it the worst and he’s not complaining, he could, but it wouldn't do anything. He’s got triple the load Ethan has, all he had to do was sit back and make sure the chapter officers were doing their job.

At least he helps pass the time, and cuts the job in half.

“So, I hit on a lesbian today.”

Ethan almost stops breathing, “no way, where at? You think I could get a copy of the security footage?”

—-----------------

At his current point in time, Peter had no idea what time it was, and he was only sure of three things.

He had late classes tomorrow and could sleep in, Hasco put on the weirdest movie known to man, he still can’t tell if it’s in english, and he was absolutely baked. It was a new level of toasted, his arms were like noodles on his sides, limp and lifeless. Peter swears he can hear his eyelids blink, or it was Tarrent eating sunflower seeds.

Peter’s slump against the back of the couch between Ethan and Tarrent, on Tarrent’s right was Hasco. The first, and only, sign of life from Ethan was him slowly slouching more and more until he was leaning on Peter’s shoulder, he assumes it’s to ground him because he’s allowing it for the same reason.

Hasco’s giggling madly, slapping on his knee while the other three are locked on the screen.

“We are so fucking high, you know how I know?”

Peter looks to Tarrent to answer for the crowd, he supplies a ‘hmph,’ between spitting kernels.

“I just remembered this movie is in portuguese.”

“Oh.” It’s all Peter could get out, somehow, he understands it more than before. Tarrent is impressively loud, “even if it was in ASL shit would suck. This is like The Fast and The Furious meets Twilight.”

“Bro, I know! Isn’t it fucking sick?”

Peter blinks, he can look but can’t see, zoned out in a world of blank space. Ethan wheezes on Peter’s left, even out of his mind he can’t miss a shot at Hasco, “fucking sick.”

In two days it would be the real start of the year, once the first party of the year commenced, they would never stop. It always felt like there were a million people in the house when the year started, it goes from pledges to recruits and back to members. Then you have friends and girlfriends and sororities, every night there would be at least twenty people downstairs drinking.

It was a rare moment for the frat house to be so quiet and everyone was enjoying it, the calm before the storm. Peter thinks he’s enjoying it, but he’s also surfing the ozone layer.

“You guys wanna get pizza?”

Tarrent is a fucking tank, it’s seriously impressive.

“Do you know how much money we spent at the grocery store today? Fuck no, make a sandwich.” Ethan smacks his arm, “make it two, no, three, I want one too.” Peter’s so glad Tarrent’s playing nice tonight, he actually stands and nods at the couch crew, “my boys want a BLT?”

Not that he needs to say it, but it was the best fucking BLT of his life.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

It was always a good day when you wake up before your alarm and realize you have a few more hours to sleep. Mornings like that make Peter feel more energized than eating a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans, a habit he has far too often.

At ten thirty he couldn’t sleep anymore, throwing his sheets off him and standing with a yawn, scratching his thigh while his eyes watered. He would take a shower, hit up the dining hall with whoever lingered in the house still, then think about thermodynamics.

His schedule, made while he was in the thick of a concussion from his spidey summer, made him sick. The classes alone made him want to eat a brick, but the days and times he chose fucked him up. His entire week was up and down. Monday he had two classes, Tuesday he had one, Wednesday he had none, Thursday he had one class and for god knows what reason, blocked his lab and lecture back to back on Friday.

At least it was every other week, two Fridays out of the month he had nothing to do, which was pretty nice. With a big stretch and another yawn, Peter walked to his bathroom and started the shower, his boxers flying to the sink.

The hot water felt good, his mind raced about the party the next night, how he’d be up most of the night moving things around, and how he had a lab-lecture combo.

All he knew was that he had some fine opportunities coming up and he’d be dumb to have his bed empty tomorrow night.

—-------------------

Belgian waffles were the only thing on Peter’s mind, the rest of his day could melt into whatever bullshit that needed to happen so he could carry on to another day. But first, he needed waffles.

It was a whole bar, a set up of freshly made waffles and toppings galore. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, maple syrup, sprinkles, butter, chopped pecans, and that was just what was on his.

Peter was double plating, two hands, two plates. Each one had two waffles dressed to the nines, Tarrent following behind with his own.

“Wanna sit with Paul?”

Yuck, he was at his girlfriend's table. Ally was nice and pretty cool, but everything he’s learned about her has been against his will. Sometimes she pulls the girlfriend card a little too much, and it really only annoys him when Paul has to drop everything for her. But, for the past two years he’s known her, he can say that Ally was a perfect fit for Paul.

“Fuck no, that freshman is over there.” She was, when he looked back to confirm, their eyes locked. Peter wasn’t backing down, not after that last interaction. Her eyes focused in on him, he doesn’t know why but his knees felt weak, suddenly he thinks she’s a witch. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, she’s evil, hates men, and makes him feel weird things. Plus, he’s Spider-Man, so they could exist, right?

It was a staring contest, until Ally caught on to her friend looking at something, when she turned her head to look back the girl stopped her. Reaching out and breaking eye contact, she played like she was in a daze, laughing at something Paul said.

It was weird, she was weird. Peter couldn’t choose between staying away and getting closer.

“-Are you even listening to me? God, bro, it’s chill if you like the freshman. You can talk to her, no one will care.” Peter was snapped back to life, “she’s weird and keeps showing up.” Plastic plates click against the table top, the chairs screeching to life. Tarrent flops down, scraping his teeth across his fork when he takes a bite. He’s got a terrible habit of talking while eating, “does she keep showing up or are you just noticing her?”

“I just met the girl, Bakner. I don’t even know her name, how could I notice her?”

“Maybe cause you want to know her name, Parker.”

Tarrent doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, she may have caught his attention a little and sure, he might have invited her to the party with the intention of possibly getting into her pants. But that has nothing to do with wanting to know her name or anything. He doesn’t care about girls like that.

Peter still misses his favorite lunch lady but the waffles were really good this morning.

He pulls a Tarrent and talks while cheeking his bite, “she bumped into me, several times. And was mean about it, why would I want to know her?”

“Maybe she likes you, ever think about that, dingus?”

Well, not really. She doesn’t even know him, how could she like him? The school year just started, unless he’s got a stalker walking around… or a witch.

“Someone taught you the word maybe once and you haven’t stopped using it since.”

A grin full of bacon, “maybe.”

Peter can’t stop himself from asking, “why do you think she likes me?” Tarrent’s fork clatters to his plate, “knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“I knew you liked her.”

“I don’t know her! She’s the one that- we’re talking in circles, Bakner!”

Tarrent pats Peter’s shoulder, which he shakes off and mumbles insults about Tarrent’s IQ level. “You know what, Parker? I think this is the year you get a girlfriend.”

Peter stares his friend in the eye while he chews and swallows, “eat shit, Bakner.”

—---------------------

“Welcome to thermodynamics. This is a fast paced, no frills, no bullshit class. If you cannot handle that, you will be left behind. This is a hands-on class, and I have high standards for everyone in here. If you do not follow my rules, you’ll be excluded and shunned from the rest of us. I’m Dr. Octavius, I’ll be your professor for the next fifteen weeks and it is my honor to teach you the fun in thermodynamics.”

This guy was absolutely not fucking around, he was all business and execution. Or as Peter likes to call these people, too smart for their own good. He earns his respect immediately, he’s the type of teacher that would get under his skin and push him to his extreme limits. Those are his favorite kinds.

“I want each of you to look at the person on your left and right,” the class pauses, but he encourages them to do so. Peter looks at the guys next to him, one looks like a deer in headlights, the other looks more like Peter, excited to be challenged.

For a second he imagines what his reaction would be if he saw the freshman sitting next to him. It wouldn’t be possible, but he imagines how shocked he would be. And the annoyance, god, he’d be so annoyed. But a small, tiny, itty bitty, microscopic part of him would be glad to be entertained.

She’s not even around and he’s annoyed thinking about her.

Why was he thinking about her? Why is she in his mind? Why is he imagining his reaction to her?

She’s a witch. No other explanation.

Peter shakes her from his mind and refocuses.

Dr. Octavius nods at the group, “yes, good, good commit them to memory,” A few people start chatting, and he seems all for it, until his hand raises and everyone silences. “Now, immediately forget them.”

Even if it wasn’t audible, he could hear everyone choke.

“Because, thirty percent of you will not be here by the sixteenth. If you want to drop my class, do it by then, if not, you’ll be charged for the semester and I won’t hear your sob story.”

Ice cold. This is the best professor he’s ever had, he has a few more to meet but no way they would compare. This guy could tell Peter to go lay in a bath of acid because he’s not worth the surface matter he’s wasting to exist and he’d lay down for him.

“I hope everyone here knows what thermodynamics are, if not, you’ve been failed by everyone around you.” He studies the room, reading each face for a moment before smiling. Pressing a button in his hand, the projector turns on, the syllabus on the screen.

“Any questions?”

No one raises their hand.

—-----------------

If Peter was a rich man, and he really wished he was, he'd buy himself a nap today. Not that naps are something you can buy, but if he could pay someone to do his work for him then he could take a nap. Normally, that just means employing a pledge to the task, but he won’t have one for a few days.

The frat pays him, which is pretty nice because it pays him more than he could make in any part time job. It’s hard to become a chapter officer, but when you make it, it’s so worth it. He’s a top dog on campus and in the house, it’s nice having power outside the suit.

But, he couldn’t buy a nap and he had thirty two chapter handbooks to make, hopefully getting to skip out on the set up for the party the next night. He’d have to go out for booze tomorrow, but he was praying he wouldn’t have to shove furniture around.

When Peter walked in the house door he could hear something happening in the kitchen and it wasn’t sounding good. Suddenly, Peter felt wide awake. Hasco was yelling at Booker, who was holding back his anger but the wall was faltering.

Ethan was absolutely useless, holding a bowl of cornflakes to his chest while he watched the brewing flight. He nodded at Peter, then to Hasco spitting insults at a million miles an hour. “Fuckin sick,” the mocking never got old.

Before he intervened he needed to know if he should, something he’s learned as a man and as someone in a frat, sometimes you just need to fight it out.

Peter shook his backpack off and watched them bicker back and forth. It was more like a coked up Hasco on a tangent and a way too calm exterior but built with inner rage Booker listening and tightening his fist with each insult. Booker played hockey, he was an athlete on and off the field, meaning, he took all he could before exploding.

“What’s happening?” Ethan’s in no rush to respond, drinking milk from the bowl.

“Something that needs to happen.”

Hasco’s about to get the absolute shit beat out of him, “he’s been screaming for five minutes, I think Booker’s gonna knock him out.”

That’s fine with him but his blender’s right there.

“Booker, don’t get his blood on my blender please.” It stops Hasco, but seals his fate.

“Who-” raging bloodshot eyes on him, “who the fuck’s gonna get blood on the blender? Me? You think this fuckin guy can put his hands on me? You think he can fight me? You think any of you motherfuckers can take me down?”

Hasco slaps the side of his face, “fuckin do it, pussy. I know you won’t, you’re a bitch just like your mom-”

Peter and Ethan pull their head back in a hiss, the collison sounded like a crack. It was enough to send Hasco’s head spinning before he dropped, he was real silent real fast.

Booker stood over him and pulled him up by his shirt, a raised hand in the air. “Don’t fucking talk about my mom, you don’t know shit about her and what she’s done for me.”

Ethan points his spoon towards him, defending his point. “Facts, the mom card was too far, Hasco.”

“I should beat your ass, but Parker said no blood on his blender.”

“Thank you!”

“Thank your white friend and apologize on my moms behalf,” when Hasco stays silent Booker lifts his hand a little, Peter moves around to see him wince in fear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just heated man, you know how it is, it’s all crazy this time of year, cause all these new guys come in and my mind is all scrambled-”

Ethan’s spoon points again, “that’s the coke.”

“Hey! Fuck you man! If you wanna fucking go then we can go, motherfucker.”

“You’re being held down by another man talking about beating my ass.”

“Fuck all you! The only real one here is Parker, he’s a real friend, he has my back, he’s the only one here protecting me.”

“I was protecting my blender,” Ethan shoves his elbow into his and mumbles, “health and safety officer,” he corrects himself, “and you, Hasco. It’s my job to protect everyone in the house. Do we need to settle this with a gulag or can it end here?”

Booker’s over it, and Hasco needs a bump.

“Let me up and we can hug it out,” and they do. Awkwardly slapping at each other’s back, Hasco giving him a “we all good brotha,” causing Peter and Ethan to wince again.

“Don’t ever fucking say that to me.”

“Parker! He’s still threat-”

“Anything Booker deems racist is gonna get your ass beat, that’s a rule we signed in.” Ethan nods, “can confirm, I was there as witness.”

“Simpson agreed? Of course he did, Polish motherfucker.”

Ethan lost it, his shoulders shaking with his laugh. Hasco had something to say about everyone, last year after they butted heads, Hasco called him ‘plant fucker’ for six weeks and it never got old. Ethan laughing made Peter smirk, but he had to kill it before Hasco could catch him.

“You know I love you, man! No more disrespect on your mom, you slapped the shit outta me. I feel like a bitch, I would’ve rather you punched me.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

Hasco made a motion of his mind exploding, “wild man, you’re a wild man.” He jumps at the idea of something and looks around the kitchen rubbing his nose, “hey, uh, we all good here guys? I got some shit to do in my room.”

Eyes are on Peter, he’s the one that makes the call. He assumes everything’s fine, Booker looks bored and Hasco’s running his tongue over his gums, eyes twitching to the staircase.

“Cleared.”

Hasco nods, “fuckin sick,” and slithers between Peter and Ethan, slowly walking to the staircase before running up them. Peter’s stating the obvious, but it needs to be said.

“Oh, he needs a fucking rehab.”

Booker shrugs, “I dunno, dude. I slapped him sober.”

Ethan cleans his bowl in the sink, “slapped him into next week, that shit ricocheted off the cabinets.” Booker eyed Peter as he said, “I mean, he deserved it?” Peter raised his hands up, “I said it was cleared, you don’t have to explain or excuse shit.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “Parker, you’re my fuckin guy. I gotta get to practice, but you’re my fuckin guy.” Peter waved him off, “you protected my blender, bro. Tarrent loves that thing.”

Booker jogged away pointing at him, “my guy! Still my guy!”

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Peter when they were left alone, “you’re gonna love me.”

“What’d you do?”

Ethan shrugs, “made use of my day off and printed those handbooks.” Peter feels like he could cry, his best friend really was one, he took one for the team and dedicated himself to hours in the library to do the brunt of the work.

“God,” A finger stops him, “not done, I also got the folders and brackets from the supply store. All we need to do is staple, stamp and book em’.”

“You’re the best person to ever exist and I don’t say it enough.”

“Wanna sit on my balcony and smoke a backwood while we do it?” He can’t imagine a better scenario.

Then wonders if the freshman smoked, and finds himself aggravated at the thought. Why was he still thinking about her?

She’s a witch, she has to be. He pushes her away, and focuses on his friend.

“I’ll cry right now, Keznek.”

—-------------------

It was nice outside, Peter was comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants, and so was Ethan. They slowly talked while they worked back and forth. Peter would staple the pages, Ethan would bracket them into the booklets, then Peter would stamp them.

"You remember those info sheets Trent's 'new friend' got him?"

"Yeah, do you know who it is?"

Ethan hisses when he pinches his finger, “nah, I did find out it's a chick though." Even though they’re alone Ethan leans in and talks low, “and apparently it’s top, top secret. Like, no one can find out, ever. She has something on him.” Those pages are held too tightly to their chests, every fraternity in competition with each other no one dares share or spill.

“How’d you find out?”

“Simpson left his computer open, he had it on his notes app.” Peter blows a harsh breath, “how do you think she got it?”

“No idea, but that shit comes at a price. She wants something, and it’s gonna be something Trent can control.”

There’s a lot he can control, everyone can think they’re the most manly in the house, but Trent owned the title. Peter doesn’t know why, but it makes him itch to find out. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he has a weird tug that demands to be discovered.

It was that same tug he felt when that witch looked at him today, and why is he thinking about her? Why is he still thinking about her, he doesn’t even know her name, and she’s mean. Was Tarrent right, was he just noticing her instead of her showing up? Has he been looking out for her? And why in the hell is he still thinking about her?

He’s right, he has to be. She’s a fucking witch.

Peter snaps out of it and stamps three books. “What if she’s just bullshitting? Is there any way to prove it’s real?”

“She’s not and she has. She hacked their computers.”

It’s blackmail, she needs something over the frat. It’s his job to protect the frat, from the personnel to the building. His guess is money, but the why is lost on him. If it’s frat money he’d find out, Trent would have to run it through him, and if not, he’d find it the next time he went through the books.

“That’s so weird, and speaking of weird, you remember that chick that bumped into me?”

Why was he talking about her? Why was he still thinking about her? It just came out, he didn’t even have anything to say. She’s a fucking witch.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know, nevermind.”

Ethan shrugs, “alright. Wanna guess what Tarrent’s doing for hazing?” Peter reloads the stapler, it’s automatic and he feels like a king. “You know it’s my job to prevent hazing, right?”

“No, it’s your job to prevent poor or dangerous hazing, and guess who makes that call?”

“Are you saying the definition of poor and dangerous hazing is at my discretion?”

Ethan teeter totters, “technically mine too, I have to make sure you’re doing your job.” Peter fills in the blank, “by letting hazing happen?”

“Alright, look. It’s a right of passage, you did it, I did it, everyone in that house and the other fifteen did it. Generations of fraternities have done it dating back to three hundred and eighty seven B.C. Everyone does it, that’s all I'm saying.”

Ethan looks up at him from the gold brackets he’s thumbing flat on the book, “I know you have…” he tries to find the right words, “higher morals than most of us, and I know you’ll know when to shut it down.”

“I never said I wanted to stop it, I just meant we’re not gonna be the frat that kills a kid.”

“Jesus, of course we aren’t, I just didn’t want you killing the vibe.”

Peter scoffs, “oh, well that’s just insulting.” He can see the end of the tunnel, only eighteen books left. “So, tell me what he’s doing. Please say it’s something better than the drunk soccer match.”

Ethan cackles, “fuck you, that’s gold. It’s happening for sure.”

Peter can think of one better, “imagine a drunk obstacle course, like, one of those bounce house ones? But we can make it all manly, so they think it’s something easy but on the other side it’s like a fucking bootcamp.”

“Railing sixteen beers and rope climbing a six foot wall,” the idea made him laugh just as hard as the soccer match. “That’s so sick, you’re sick for that.”

Peter stamps three more and finishes for him, “so obviously we’re gonna do it, right?” Ethan nods, “absolutely we are.”

It falls silent, both of them working together but enjoying the quiet. Peter likes that most about Ethan, since day one he’s felt comfortable around him. He can be himself around him and it’s never once been awkward, they just agree on everything.

It’s weird, sometimes it feels like Ethan doesn’t care about him but that also makes him a better friend to Peter. He acts like he’s less involved than he is, like he knows that Peter pushes people away when they get too close. The only person closer to Peter than Ethan is his aunt.

But Ethan pretends he doesn’t know that, and it makes their bond stronger. Ethan’s opinion means the world to him, anything he says is taken with a mountain of salt. And no judgment, never, ever judgment. It takes a lot for him to say it, but he’d trust him with his life.

When they’re down to the last ten Peter clears his throat, “have you gotten anywhere with the Salander sisters?” Ethan shrugs, “I’ve been feeling this girl in my bio class, she’s pretty cool. I invited her to the party, she seemed into me, I think.”

“Woah, the Ethan Keznek catching feelings?”

“Easy, I had two classes with her. She seems like she’d be fun to hang with, I’m not trying to date her.”

Peter spits it out before he can stop it, “Tarrent thinks freshman and I will end up together.”

Why the fuck does he keep thinking about her?

She’s a fucking witch, she has to be.

“The entitled one?” Ethan knows he can’t get his mind off her, he brought her up twice. And each time he looked like he regretted it, but he doesn’t care enough to push it.

“Yeah. But he’s kinda dumb, right?” Peter doesn’t even know her, he hates how she’s been popping up in his mind throughout the day.

“He could be, or he may be a clairvoyant genius that sees the future. Personally, I vote for the latter.”

Proof he’s a best friend, giving Peter an out through a joke.

“He’s majoring in physical therapy but he should be a conspiracy theorist.”

Final five, Peter’s ready for dinner. “Wanna hit up the dining hall after this?”

“God yes, I need lo-mein noodles so bad right now.”

—------------

The table was rowdy, everyone yelling over each other. If women thought men interrupting them was bad, they should see five men hanging out together.

“Remember when Booker slapped me?”

Paul dropped his fork, “no, what, when?”

Tarrent’s holding the edge of his plate to his mouth as he shovels rice in. “That’s hilarious.”

Ethan sighs dreamily, “yeah, it was awesome.”

“Yes, Hasco. It happened like, three hours ago.”

“Ah, fuck! I always miss the best shit, this is about to be Ally’s problem.”

“I was stretching a cheerleader's hamstrings, I didn’t miss out on anything.”

Ethan drops his fork to point at Tarrent, making sure Peter was paying attention. “He’s bragging, make him stop.”

“Bakner, stop bragging, some of us are more lonely than others.” His words focused more on Paul, the guy that’s been with the same girl for six years. Like, everyone feels so bad he’s missing out on fights because he’s too busy being in love.

It’s actually disgusting to Peter.

“Don’t blame me, you guys are the ones against church girls.”

Hasco sneers, “cause they try to convert us, I refuse to willingly be beneath another man.”

Ethan loves riling him up, “hey, you never know, God may be a woman.” Hasco gives him a pathetic look, “c’mon man, not even you believe that.” Ethan nods his head like he’s got a point, Paul looks like he’s sick.

“That is our lord you’re talking about, he died for us.” Paul’s a devoted christian… only when he felt the need to be.

Peter taps his chin, “isn’t premarital sex one of the things he died for?”

“What my girlfriend and I do behind closed doors is not the lord's business. Or yours.”

The table ooed, Peter nods impressively, Ally’s given him a backbone. He pushes away from the table, he’s stuffed and needs to put his plates away. He also needs to piss.

No one notices his descent, Peter looks over the dining hall, it’s always empty for dinner. Breakfast and lunch seemed impossible with seating, but for whatever reason dinner was always empty.

Dropping his plates in a bin he politely nodded at a group of ladies before turning back for the bathroom, mumbling a song under his breath that was stuck in his head. “... Another bottle in the brain. Another girl, another fight,” Peter hit the door open with his shoulder, finishing his mumbling. “Another drive all night.”

Peter had that weird feeling again, the one he felt when he saw that freshman. And fuck, he’s thinking about her again.

She’s a witch, a real fucking witch.

Peter moved his shoulders while he washed his hands, the song replaying over and over. Swinging the door open with this foot, he mumbled to himself again. “.. another bottle in the brain,”

A voice speaks up, “another girl, another fight.” He jumps, his eyes fall to the left, perched at a high top was the witch. Her mouth wrapped around a spoon, a cup of fro-yo in her hand. Tarrent was wrong, he wasn’t noticing her. She kept showing up.

“Hey,” he doesn’t like how winded he sounded. Who the fuck was she?

“Hello, Peter.”

His heart stopped, no one calls him Peter, no one. Since day one it’s been Parker, when he was recruited he was only addressed as Parker and it stuck. It’s weird she knew what his first name was, his suspicions are adding up.

He wants to ask how she knew his name, but it’s cliche, and he really doesn’t care. If he guessed, it was probably Ally. It’s still a bold choice that she used it, it definitely separated her from the crowd.

“And you are…” Waiting for her to fill in the blanks, if he could find out her name he can banish all traces of her in his mind, like a demon.

A smirk wrapped around her plastic spoon, it scraped against her teeth as she removed it.

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” She thinks she’s clever, she’s not.

“I’m sure you planned it, considering how you keep showing up around me.” That seems to tick her off, “no, you keep showing up where I already am.”

“Now you’re just lying.”

She raised three fingers, “scouts honor.” Peter looks around, “where are your friends?”

Why is he still talking to her? She must have him under her spell.

The witch hums, “can’t a girl get fro-yo alone?”

“It’s a free country, babe. Do you, girl power, smash the patriarchy, all that stuff.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly misogynistic?”

Peter looks up at his brothers, it still seems like his absence hasn’t been noticed. Her eye contact is insane, it makes his knees weak like this morning. It’s gross, her powers have taken over his cerebrum.

“Just one, I think she doesn’t know what misogyny is.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, “you’re mansplaining now?” Peter’s eyes look at her mouth when she takes another spoonful. “Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly difficult?” It’s like his words egg her on, “just one, I don’t think he knows what difficult is yet.”

“Yet? For a person with no name you’re bold.” Normally flirting doesn’t feel like this, he feels like he has to keep up with her. Peter hates that it feels like she always has the upper hand.

She makes him feel like he could go all night.

The witch proves she’s difficult, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” She jumps out of her seat, for the fourth time she’s left him thinking about her.

“Have a goodnight, Peter.”

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary and doesn’t trust her.

Her back turned on him as she walked away, his eyes dropped to her ass and tilted his head impressively. He can’t deny a nice sight.

Too bad she’s a witch.

When he makes it back to the table it’s unnoticed, except for Tarrent, he gives Peter the smallest hint of a smile.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

It was the day he’s been preparing for all week. The official start of the year, he wouldn’t be able to get too loose tonight, he’d be too busy kicking out anyone puking, fighting or excessively crying.

He also had a lecture and a lab today. He hates himself. If he plans it right, he’d have time to take a nap, not that he would, but the idea of one made him feel better. Speaking of naps, he still needs to set up a bed for Harvey in the chapter room.

Rolling over, Peter picked up his phone and went straight for twitter. It was his morning news, scrolling for a little until a headline caught his eye.

‘Spider-Menace’s scheduled slump.’ He clicks the link, it opens and he rolls his eyes, he should’ve expected it.

‘Spider-Menace is no longer patrolling the streets nightly, don’t worry criminals, you won’t be out of a job anymore. To the real heroes of the city, the citizens, we bid ado to the masked vigilante. For the second year, Spider-Menace picked up activity during the summer months, and has plans to become a rare sight during the months that follow.

It’s unsure what our ‘friendly’ city destroyer is up to, but we do know the ones trained for their job, the NYPD, are prepared for any threat. For more on Spider-Menace, download our app to be the first to know exclusive news updates.’

Just like usual, the Daily Bugle was dumb as shit.

Peter Parker had shit to do, a life to build. Spider-Man didn’t pay the bills, Peter did. It doesn’t mean choosing himself over a daunting responsibility was easy, the first year he stressed himself so thin he lost his abilities.

No strength, no healing, no heightened listening. He needed glasses for the first time in years, and for a second he swore his asthma came back.

Needless to say, it freaked him the fuck out. He’s always viewed Spider-Man as a thing he had to do, the great responsibility his uncle Ben reminded him of. And when he lost it, he realized how much he wrapped himself into his alter ego.

When Peter lost Spider-Man, he lost himself. And he swore if he got his powers back, he’d build a life for Peter outside them.

And he did. He has been. And no matter what his uncle told him, he knows he’d be damn proud of him for doing it.

Peter pulls at the chain around his neck and looks at the ring on it, it was Ben’s wedding ring. May gave it to him when he turned eighteen, she said he had a dream and needed him to have it. He’s worn it every day since then.

Bored of twitter he makes the switch to instagram, opening his messages and responding to the videos he’s been sent. For whatever reason he thinks about the witch, he wonders if he could find her from Ally’s page. He probably could, but it feels like cheating.

Starting his day the same way, he walks to his bathroom yawning and pulling his boxers off. Starting the shower and wasting the time waiting for it to heat up by brushing his teeth, tugging at the front of his hair with a grunt.

He needs a haircut.

He should get one before the party.

He also needs to buy booze.

And two fucking classes, that fucking guy really was a Spider-Menace.

‘Half lab, Peter. Half lecture.’ He thanks his own mind for the gentle reminder. The shower feels nice, it always does. On his bad days, the days where everything is too much it’s his safe place. He could stay in the shower for hours, the rushing water calms him, even when it turns ice cold.

They don’t happen often, but it’s debilitating when they do. He spends his day hiding, on one really bad day he was curled up on the floor of the shower with his hands pressing into his ears as hard as they could, trying his best to block everything out and it wasn’t working, nothing was working. He remembers sobbing, praying to any God that would listen to help him. No one heard him.

But that was last year. He had an episode over the summer, and as much as she didn’t want to leave him alone, he begged May to leave. Her walking around, or even sitting on the couch was too much. He could hear the fabric move underneath her, he could even hear her breathe.

It took hours, but when he was defeated and went from hearing the city to a low, constant ring he was ready to sleep. He’d be okay in the morning, sometimes that’s the only thing that gets him through it. He called May and apologized, and told her she could come back to her own home. She laughed at him and said ‘it’s your home too,’ and that made him feel better than a shower ever could.

But today wasn’t one of those days. Today, he was making it a good day.

—--------------

Peter’s good day took a small dip when he had to skip breakfast. And by skipping breakfast, he means all he had was a fat spoonful of peanut butter and an apple to go. He forgot to refill his water before leaving and nearly choked to death on the glue in his mouth.

Every dog in the world had gained his sympathy.

But, today was a good day. Especially when he was seated next to a smoking hot chick, he wasted no time in casually looking her over, committing details to think of rather than stare. A black skater skirt exposed a tattoo of Medusa that took up her entire thigh, a white shirt with a Vans logo in the center, it was obvious she cut the sleeves herself.

She was wearing a black bralette underneath, she was flat chested and he didn’t mind one bit. They suited her, she seemed too cool for him. She looked like she would ruin his life and he’d love every minute of it.

He wasn’t wasting any time, “first time here?”

The girl winced, he did too the second he said it.

“That’s your opening line, really? Are you proud of that?”

Peter shook his head, “I regretted it the second I said it. Usually I’m way cooler, but pretty girls make me nervous.”

The girl smiles, she has teeth to envy. “Smooth, did you plan that whole thing?” He didn’t, but if she believes it he’s not one to ruin dreams.

“Maybe things are working out in my favor, like sitting next to you.”

There’s a gleam in her eye, “you’re a flirter, and that makes you dangerous.” Peter might be laying it on thick here, but she may like it. “Hm, do you like danger?” Her eyebrow quirks, “do you?”

Oh, he wants her.

Peter extends his hand out, “Parker, nice to meet you.” The girl shakes his hand, it’s ultra soft. “Nice to meet you, Parker.”

What the fuck is up with girls not sharing their names? What’s he supposed to do, call them babydoll?

“Any plans tonight?”

“Your party, what else would I be doing?”

Peter’s celebrating on the inside, she’s just been booted to the top of the list.

“Glad to hear it, if you’re okay with it I’d love to play a game of pong with you.”

The girl holds a hand to her chest, jewelry covering her fingers and wrist.

“I’d be okay with it, not sure my girlfriend would be.”

Peter’s entire world collapses, he meets the girl of his dreams and he’s the furthest thing away from her type. She seems overjoyed to share the news, the defeat on his face is the highlight of her day. When he takes a good look at her he’s reminded of someone else.

“Is your name…” They say at the same time, “Lily?”

“I was waiting on that one, handsome. Rose told me all about you, I had to get two for oh.”

He has to take that one on the chin, “you live up to the hype, Lily.” She’s happy with his words, “same to you, Parker.”

Peter plays it cool when the lecture starts, he’s trying to make it a good day. But all he can think about are the witches' words. Maybe he really has lost his frat boy edge, so far his only prospects have been two lesbians and a freshman.

And just like that he has a burnt taste in his mouth, because he somehow rounded his thoughts back to her.

She’s fucking evil, and she’s a witch.

—--------------

Peter’s standing at the edge of the kitchen looking over the liquor on the counter. It’s an impressive haul, he doesn’t think they have enough coolers and fridges for all the beer. The island would be spread out with all the bottles, mixers, cups, and as tradition calls, jungle juice.

Tarrent is running around like a mad man, screaming at everyone but Peter to ‘fucking do something!’ Hasco’s preparing in his room and no doubt Trent’s joined him. Paul’s coming late due to Ally, no one’s shocked. Leaving Booker and Nick to follow every command from Tarrent.

Peter should help out, and he will later, but he’s got to take a shower. He got the haircut he needed and he can feel little hairs poking into his neck, plus, he’s not sure what the night could bring.

“Give me ten minutes to shower and I’ll help you guys, where’s E?” Booker shrugs, Nick’s sweating like a whore in church and Tarrent pauses to point and laugh.

“Ha! Parker’s about to go wash his balls.”

Peter squints at him, “yeah, girls tend to like that.”

“Yeah- sure, whatever you say, buddy.” Nick looks between everyone’s face while he slowly asks, like everyone is scared of the answer.

“Do you… Do you not wash your balls?”

“Showering is a scam made up by Dove soap. People say you only need to shower like, once a week.”

Peter shakes his head, “no, that’s not… Tarrent you work out all the time, I can’t believe I need to tell you, but you gotta wash your sack. In general and especially before you hook up, imagine a cheerleader after four days of practice and no shower asking you to munch down on her.”

Tarrent is a different breed, “that’s the difference between us, Parker. I enjoy the musk.”

Peter gags, Booker says, “man, that’s nasty.” Nick’s actually gagging, he’s got the weakest stomach to exist.

“That’s what separates you boys from us men.”

Nick whines through another gag, “I don’t wanna be a man, Parker, don’t let him make me a man.”

—-------------

Peter’s quiet as he gets ready.

His frat shirt looks good, he’s not one to fawn over his body, but he can’t help but nod impressively at his build. His shirts tighter this year, evidence of hard work. His haircut is nice, it’s a little shorter than he normally goes but he’s not sure when he’d get time to go again, so he wanted some wiggle room.

Even if it was bad no one would see it, at this point he feels naked without his snapback. Peter tucked his necklace into his shirt, he hates when girls ask him about it. He understands they need an ice breaker but it’s the worst one to bring up.

Brushing down his jeans and making sure his Nike’s were clean, he was ready for the night to start. He doesn’t know how he did it, but Tarrent had set up the entire kitchen by himself, snapping his fingers at Peter the second he saw him, requesting help for moving the couch.

Peter’s hands gripped at the edge of the couch, nodding at Tarrent, “ready?” They lift it in one go, moving to set it against the wall, then do the same to the other one, and the chairs. All that was left was a giant open space, couches and chairs were free game, but it made more space for more bodies.

“Make sure the keg fridge is working, I’m gonna go wash my balls.”

At least he took the advice.

Peter heads to the garage with a plastic cup and pulls at the keg tap, it takes a second and foam rushes out, then ice cold miller light. It was a small gimmick Peter made when he was pledging and he swears to this day that’s what got him sworn in.

He bought an old fridge off a grad student and emptied it out, threw a keg in and sawed a hole in the front to feed a tube and the tap. It was genius, everyone loved it. Peter chugs the beer and tosses the foam, they’ve got an hour until people start showing.

Peter wonders when the witch will show up, will he be able to feel her presence before he sees her? It’d be a nice warning but he doesn’t have the best control at gaging people he doesn’t know that well yet.

He needs to stop thinking about her, and fuck, he needs to make that bed for Harvey before Trent snaps his neck. Racing around for sheets and pillows, Peter opens the chapter door and sets up the pull out couch, he’s not a homemaker by any means but he’d be fine to sleep here.

“Oh good, I was making sure you were doing your job.”

Peter jumps, turning to look back at Trent. “I mean, not really my job, but sure.”

“You’re testy this year, don’t challenge me in front of Harvey, I need his respect.” Wow, the first time Trent ever admitted he needed something. Even if Peter doesn’t like him, he can respect his dedication to proving he could truly run the frat.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Peter salutes to his president, it makes him break his rough exterior, he’s nervous.

“That’s more like it, Parker.”

—----------------

“I think Harvey’s here.”

Peter moved to stand next to Ethan on his balcony, looking down at a Mercedes pulling into the driveway. “Yeah, that’s him.” His best friend scoffs, “isn’t it shit how the richest kids don’t appreciate what they have the most?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Kez? Don’t you have CFO daddy money?”

Ethan’s sharp, “don’t you have dead parents money?”

It went silent, both shocked he said it. Until they start laughing, if anyone else had said it, it would be in poor taste. When Ethan says it, he’s laughing with Peter, it’s like he shares the massive trauma with him.

“And dead uncle, check cleared the second after I turned twenty one.”

“That life insurance pays out, doesn’t it?”

Peter nods, breaking from the joke for a second. At the time when Ben had created it and fed into it, it was rare to have such a good plan.

“Oh yeah, he had awesome fucking benefits. My aunt still gets pension checks, he’s been dead for eight years.”

“No shit? That’s pretty fucking sick.”

“And not that they had any obligation to, but his company paid for the entire funeral.”

Peter doesn’t open up much, but it’s casual with Ethan. Even so, he doesn’t like showing his cards, it was minor, but he’s said more than enough.

“Hey! You, um…” Peter trails off when he relights the joint, the flame expanding before shrinking back down. His voice goes deep when he talks through an exhale, “got any plans with bio chick?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna play it cool. We have the semester together, too much too fast and it’s a dumpster fire.”

True fucking that. Obsessed Olivia ruined the first half of his second year, after that, he swore he wouldn’t hook up with a classmate before a two week period. (Unless he counts the lesbians, and he does not, because it’s not happening.)

“That’s so real, you’re so real for that.”

“I’ve been enlightened, I went to a sweat lodge retreat this summer and my third eye has been opened.”

Peter feels sick, “that’s the most rich kid shit I’ve ever heard.” Ethan smacks his arm, “I know how busy you are in the summer, otherwise I would’ve invited you.” Sometimes he feels like Ethan gives him a wink, wink, nudge, nudge look, but he’s also slightly paranoid and Ethan’s usually high.

“Oh. Damn. So sad I missed that.” It was monotone, and Ethan waves him off. “Sure, make fun of me now, but next year you’re coming and you’ll love it.”

“No, I need water. I’ll die.”

“I mean, you get water, dude. They just suck all of it out of you first and push you to the brink of death and delusion until you give into your ego and admit defeat because you’d do anything for a drop of water.”

Peter stares at him in horror.

“It’s awesome, dude.”

The boys turn their heads at a footstep on the deck, Harvey Gyun in his Burberry glory. He pushes aviators up to his hair, arms open wide in greeting, like he was about to tackle them.

“What’s up, you short dicks?”

Harvey’s a cool guy. It’s pretty surface level with him, he’s a rich asshole, only because he doesn’t know any better. But he still treats you well.

Peter could put up with him snapping at a waitress if it meant he was getting a free two hundred dollar meal, and he has. Several times.

Peter shouts out, “the king is back!” Harvey nods to the clapping, “that he is, that he is. How about you princesses bow for me?”

He's an alum. You do what they say, kidding or not.

The chapter officers bow at his request, Harvey giggles and rubs his hands together. “I forgot I have that power now, I’m gonna fuck with Simpson so hard. Be honest, how freaked out was he about me coming?”

As much as he didn’t like Trent he promised him he’d make him look good.

“Not bad, he was actually pretty chill.” Ethan doesn’t need to understand the bluff to back it, it’s his job as best friend.

“More excited to show you he’s ready for this, you did good at preparing him last year.”

Harvey can smell bullshit a mile away, but knowing the officers were dedicated to their president speaks volumes. The frat will be just fine without him.

“Good backing, boys. Daddy taught you well. Finish that,” he points at the joint, “and meet me downstairs. We need a toast before the year starts.”

Harvey Gyun has a kind of energy Peter’s never seen before. “Yes, sir.” Harvey kisses his teeth, rubbing at his lawline, Peter clocks his watch. It’s sixty grand.

“Such good boys.”

When the coast is clear, Ethan turns to Peter with a bit lip and a whimper. “I hate how much I loved that.” It’s not Peter’s preferred voice, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what he means.

“Yeah, good boy makes a man feral.” Peter passes the joint Ethan’s way, “kill it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

—--------------------

Peter looks around the room at his small group of brothers. When everyone else joined in, it’d be a blended family. But no one could ever be as close as these six guys, they’ve been through it all together.

He’s proud of himself and everybody in the room.

Three years. They’ve made it three years and as dumb as he’s always thought it was, even with all their minor grievances, he’s made friends for life. Even if they fall out of touch for a few years, he'll be at the wedding and the funeral.

“I won’t lie, it feels weird not hosting freshman Friday this year. But you fuckers have made it three years in and I couldn’t be prouder in my choice of men to recruit. Tonight, we party, we mistake, we regret and we have fun. And- I think Simpson’s the best president you could have.”

Trent visibly relaxes, everything he’s been praying for came to fruition. Harvey must have known he wouldn’t be able to do any of those things if he was paranoid of being watched all night. Harvey raised his shot glass and everyone did the same, taking a second to clap Trent’s shoulder before addressing the group.

The group chanted as one, “Sig Nu!”

Shot glasses double tapped on the counter, tequila was a bold choice. It was just the thing he needed for the night to start. Ethan’s eyes on the clock, he nudges Tarrent.

“Booker, Nick, collectors fee.”

They leave to stand guard outside the door, nodding at a forming line. Trent leaves with Harvey, Tarrent goes to set up the music that Hasco will take over once he’s done getting a fix. Ethan’s yelling at Hasco through the bathroom door about ‘not getting too coked up’ and Hasco biting back with a ‘fuck you!’

Peter shakes his shoulders and takes a step, Tarrent stops him with a hand on his chest. His voice lowered, looking around so no one would hear.

“Talk to the freshman. I mean it, Parker.”

It always circles back to her.

Witch, witch, witch, witch.

“You’re delusional.”

“Maybe I am, or maybe you trust me and talk to the girl.”

Peter wants to correct him, inform him she’s a witch because he can’t get her out of his mind. But the real reason she was a witch was because she made Peter want to talk to her more.

And that’s not who he is.

So, she has to be a witch.

Right?

YOUR FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

It may have been the first day of the year, but the cafeteria was buzzing.

Breakfast in the food hall didn’t feel this busy on a normal school week. It seemed like everyone was sitting with their friends sharing a breakfast burrito or an orange, catching up from summer break. You were entertaining your friend group talking about a summer vacation and part time job you took up to save up spending cash for the school year.

(And leaving out the real source of cash- it’s cheating and you have to hide your eyes from Noa.)

Five people were at your table.

Ally Storm, dating Matt Paul of Sig Nu, second and third year roommate.

Sarah Adams, nursing student and never around.

Prince Otto, three years in and major undeclared.

Natalie Fieldman, roommate your freshman year, art major.

And Noa Carter, computer science superfreak.

The group talked over each other, then quieted down when nine hit. Everyone except you, Ally and Prince went to class. Leaning in when she spoke, you and Prince strained to hear, unaware she’d be spilling secrets.

“All that talk about this summer and you don’t even bring up Harvey?”

Harvey was the best well kept secret you had, he graduated last year and was an official alumni of Sigma Nu. You’d kept hooking up all summer, before parting ways when you moved back for college, keeping the door open so when he visited there was always an option.

“Woah, woah, woah. Harvey Gyun? I need when, where, why and what, right now.”

Holding up a hand you raise a finger at each point, “like three weeks before he graduated, my dorm or his room at a party, to have fun with zero commitment, and Ally would’ve never known if Matt didn’t see me sneaking out of his room at like, five am.”

Prince sucked his teeth, “he’s a prick, he said he was only sleeping with me.”

“Oh, what the fuck.”

Prince was seeing him too? Ally slammed her hand over her mouth, it’s how you felt.

“Double dipping bitch.”

You shrug, “you gotta respect a man’s hustle sometimes, Prince.”

Ally reached a hand out on the table, silently demanding attention. “You know who’s hustling will earn my respect?” A hand patted your shoulder, “our friend here, and it’s currently recruiting season at the frat house, thirty two new boys introduced.”

Your eyes bug out, “thirty two, what the fuck? How are they keeping count this year?” You could be an actress if you tried.

“Apparently, twelve will be cut by the second week. Then hazing starts, so we’ll scope it out next week and make our bets.”

“Prince, please pick a winner this year.”

Green hair swayed when he shook his head, arms crossed. “Nope, I got a thing for the underdog.”

Ally grinned up at her boyfriend when he took a seat next to her, three breakfast burritos on a plate. Your eyes flashed up for the rest of the frat, scanning the food lines you counted heads. Aaron, Keznek, Hasco, Bakner. Trying not to let the disappointment show you looked back at Ally, talking quicker than lightning to her boyfriend, who definitely wasn’t listening as he scarfed burritos down.

Looking at the time you frown, you had an appointment with your class advisor and a shitload of books to rent and buy. Standing, you look over to the coffee bar, having enough time you grab another cup and go.

You rattle your paper cup as show and hitch a near empty bag over your shoulder. “Meeting with my advisor, have a lovely first day my friends.” Matt gave an extra loud goodbye as you walked off, sending him a middle finger behind your back. Saying quick ‘excuse me’s’ as you passed through the crowd, doing your best to avoid shoulders.

Approaching the small, self-serve coffee cart you open your cup, then see a ‘please use a new cup each time!’ sign and followed instructions, grabbing a piping hot pot of coffee, full of caffeine and loaded up.

Steam billowed over your fingers as you filled the cup up, peering over the assortment of milk and sugar you grin at your pick of the litter.

Looking over to your left when someone stands next to you, you feel your heart race. Swiping his card at checkout and sharing conversation with the line worker, you’ve never seen anything more attractive. You allow yourself to imagine him handing his card to a waiter at dinner, a dinner he asked you out to.

Even more handsome than the last time you saw him, a secret crush.

Last year he had broken up a fight between some twins that were later kicked out the frat, watching him tear them apart and slam the bigger one to the ground as the other was held back by Keznek, made something click in your brain and suddenly you had your eye out for Peter Parker everywhere you went.

The comedic irony being you’ve never spoken to him, fairly sure he doesn’t even know you exist. Flying under his radar for two years, last year boosting you with confidence with your hookup partners, you promised this was the year of going after what you want.

And you wanted Peter Parker.

Snapping the lid you turn to leave, sliding sideways between two tables. About to cross by the table you were just sitting at, you look down at your shoe, losing balance and shoulder checking the person next to you, quickly apologizing.

“So sorry!”

The universe had your back, who else did you bump into other than your crush himself?

Brown hair hidden under a snapback, a heather gray t-shirt with red details, his fraternity logo on the corner of his chest and a full piece on the back. Brown eyes with a honey ring looked at you, for a moment you felt your chest tighten. Peter Parker was about to talk to you, it felt like your tongue went thick, until his eyes hardened and looked at you with disgust.

A sneer, “fucking freshman.”

What a prick, it was a tap and you apologized. He wasn’t the person you’d hoped he’d be, it was a shame he was too cute. “I hope you fucking choke.” You bark at him, words spilling before you could think, then bolting.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your statement, whizzing by a table and up the steps you leave the dining hall. Stomping away, like your harsh steps could be proof for the discontent you felt. It felt somewhat satisfying, because you felt him watching you all the way out.

It may have not been what you liked, but there was no way Peter Parker wouldn’t know who you are after today.

—-----------------------

Shaking your leg and tapping the heel of your foot on the linoleum you look around, arms crossed as you rope over your future. The easy years are over, it’s all about focusing on your major now.

Your advisor is nowhere to be seen, you can’t imagine how many people she’s seeing this week. Eyes catching the inspirational posters in her office, they’re cheesy at best, but damn if they don’t make you feel slightly proud of yourself for getting this far.

Gripping your coffee cup, you look at the cafeteria logo and grimace.

Your meet cute was more like a meet ugly, but maybe he was having a bad day? It’s not like you were all sunshine and roses, the start of the school year sucked, and if you knew anything about last night, he was probably hungover. Unlike you, because you knew the consequences of your actions, you chose to stay in no matter how hard Ally had begged.

‘C’mon, please?’ she dragged out her ‘e’ and gave you puppy dog eyes.

‘Tempting, but no.’ your bed was extremely comfortable underneath you.

‘Please? I don’t wanna go alone.’ if you didn’t know Ally as well as you do you might have given in, but you knew she was full of bullshit.

‘I’m not getting out of bed, dressing, and going to sit in a loud ass frat house while you practice making babies with your boyfriend.’

Argument proved right the next day when she arrived back at the dorm at six in the morning, makeup smeared and a memory of a wild night. The only thing shared before she fell into her bed and passed out for the next two hours was, ‘why did you let me do that? You suck.’

Blinking out of the fog when the door opens, you’re greeted by the same advisor you’ve had for the last two years. “Halfway there, kiddo.” Grinning at her words, scared, but prepared for the next step. Mrs. Caliban swayed her hips as she walked to her desk, sitting in her chair and pushing her glasses to her hair.

“Let’s figure out what books you really need, hm?”

Settling into your seat and crossing your legs, holding your knee in place with your palms.

“I’m ready for some of that Mrs. Caliban magic.”

Watching her look over your classes you appreciate how hard she’s working, crunching numbers and using her knowledge as proof of purchase she tsks as she looks over your requirements log.

“Half of these you won’t use, my advice? Friend up with a sucker who buys one and use theirs on the rare or off chance you actually need it.”

Your heart soaring when she gives you your new sheet, initialing on her copy and stopping yourself from bouncing in your seat. You’re getting her a care package, you don’t care what she says. She’s your guardian angel that just saved you six hundred bucks and secured your ski tip this December.

“Mrs. Caliban, you just did wonders for me, you have no idea.”

You can’t tell if she’s blushing but her response makes you think she is.

“The miracles are why I do it, kiddo. Now, if you don’t mind, I have thirty seven others to make today.”

You caught the hint, scrambling from your seat and hooking an empty bag around your shoulder, prepared to be filled with less books than you were prepared for. How crazy.

Mrs. Caliban’s voice called out your last name before you could open the door, “I have a good feeling about you, I think it’ll be your year. I’m proud of you.”

And damn if that doesn’t make your eyes water.

“I’m counting on it now, Mrs. Caliban. Don’t be wrong.”

Her face tells you you have nothing to worry about, it’s an unamused expression.

“Tell me, baby. When have I ever been wrong?”

You can’t think of one.

—--------------

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, thumbs moving as quickly as possible across your keyboard. It was already planned for, and it was going to happen no matter what, but what your advisor just did for you tied the bow. And gave you some fun money.

‘Guess who just saved $600 and is DEFINITELY going on the ski trip?’

Ally’s response was immediate.

‘telling matt rn so he can secure the spot. SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS!!!!’

Butting your hip against the bar doorknob, you swung the door outwards and stepped outside, your eyes adjusting to the light. Blinking quickly, you peered up and took a wide step towards the right, heading to the bookstore.

‘Dude, you have no idea. Mrs. Caliban is a fucking hero.’

‘i will give her my life for making it possible for this to happen.’

‘you have no idea, i was about to be so miserable with no other girls there.’

‘Prince is close enough.’

Suddenly, he has something to say. The group chat was his idea but it’s really just you and Ally talking to each other while Prince reads it and randomly jumps in. Peeking up and approaching the line for the bookstore, which wrapped around the building you looked back down at your messages.

‘Hey, popping in to say a few choice words.’

‘Fuck you.’

You heart reacted his message, biting your lip in a silent giggle. Ally laugh reacted, which made Prince follow up with a middle finger emoji. Forgetting how close you were to the line, and lost in the excitement of saving money and going on a ski trip you lose focus and crash into the person in front of you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!”

And, oh fuck, you recognize that shirt. It was ingrained in your mind that morning. If you thought he wasn’t going to forget you earlier then you’ve just signed it into law, he’d never forget you now.

It’s proven when he hits you with the same insult from earlier, you don’t know why it annoys you so much, maybe it’s the assumption. Or maybe it’s because it should be obvious that you weren’t a freshman.

“Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” He says it with a bitter laugh, like he’s just so funny.

Peter Parker seemed like a nice guy. You didn’t know him, sure, but when you watched him at parties he seemed nice and respectful. And sure, you get his discomfort but only to a certain level. You did break his personal space twice, but him berating you and making you feel like shit just because you weren’t paying attention was a dick move.

It was an accident, both times. And you apologized profusely, at this point it’s on him to not accept the apology and be bitter. It says nothing about you and everything about him. So, it’s only fair if you call him out on his bullshit and state the obvious, he was a dick that spewed too many pet names.

It reeked of condescending and you didn’t have time for it. Maturely, you spun your back on him and redirected your attention on your phone.

Immaturely, Peter asked if you backed down, thinking you couldn’t win in a pissing contest with him.

You kept reminding yourself it spoke more about him than yourself, until you really didn’t understand the anger so you just have to ask.

This message was sent privately.

‘What the fuck is Parker’s problem and who hurt him?’

‘sig nu parker? i dunno, why?’

‘He’s a dick. Is he normally a dick or has he singled me out to be his hate train?’

‘why is parker picking on you?? no, he’s very nice. what did u do?’

‘I bumped into him twice and he keeps calling me freshman :(‘

‘well… u better kiss and makeup cause you guys are airplane buddies on the trip.’

You stare at your screen with an open jaw, Mrs. Caliban was wrong, it was a terrible year and it literally just started.

‘Oh you’re fucking with me, right?’

‘... right, Ally?’

‘😶 ummmm i would lie, but there’s no point.’

‘Oh my god, take one for the team and just sit with me. You’ll survive without Matt for four hours.’

‘i would. i swear i would, but we already bought the seats, speaking of… i was praying for a miracle and pre-bought your seat soooo. 😬’

‘And Prince wasn’t a good enough option????????????????????’

‘ok, princess. to be FAIR we didn’t know you hated each other so…’

‘plenty of time to kiss and makeup tho!!!’

Feeling safe enough to turn around, you ease when he’s got his focus on his own phone. Safely avoiding each other, you can breathe better.

‘Just so you know my current situation, he’s actively hating me so you kiss and makeup that.’

Until your shoes hit his, and he hits you with a cocky grin that sends your heart skipping. It’s unfair he’s so attractive, he can’t be mean and hot, they cancel out. Unless it’s on him, because then it’s down right tempting and frustrating.

“This one’s on me, sweetheart.”

Knowing you’ll have to keep the peace for at least three months makes it doable, and if you can keep it cool, then you could avoid each other peacefully. Until a five hour flight; with him, you’re rounding up.

Peter’s offer makes you question his character. He went from hating you in a second to.. dare you say flirt? Yet again insinuating you’re a freshman, you were about to correct him but stopped. No use, he’d figure it out soon enough. He’d also find out his flight partner soon enough, and if you thought you were unhappy with the news, you couldn’t wait to see him blow up.

You could see a backup plan written on his face. His attitude flipped in a second, he went from displeased to charming quicker than you’ve ever seen.

It’s not right how much you wanted to give in, but you wouldn’t be so easy, especially after he’s been so mean.

Calling him out on his bullshit, you could see he was humbled a bit. Not expecting his play to be announced step by step. What made it better was gaining the upper hand on him, this time you sent him away second guessing himself.

Smirking, you pull your phone back out.

‘Nvm, thought it over, Parker seems fun.’

‘oh. so he flirted with you.’

‘Now, why would you even say that?’

‘cause i know you, lol. also, he’s a tough guy to hate. it’s something about him.’

Well, you’ll just have to figure that out yourself.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH

The science building smelt like chemicals, a faint mixture of formaldehyde and bleach. It was oddly comforting and felt homey. Even if you felt like everyone around you was smarter than you, it didn’t feel intimidating. Everyone supported everyone in this hall.

Your feet subconsciously match to the beat of the music flowing through your earphones, smiling at a person sharing the hallway when you curve around the corner. You liked biology just fine, so much so you’re minoring in it.

But you could also admit that this particular semester was going to drag on. Field botany just wasn’t your thing. Plants were incredibly boring to you, they always have been. Save the planet, produce more trees, stop cutting them down, produce more oxygen, all those things.

At the end of the day, learning about plants sucked the life out of you and you were feeling very neutral about the class. You followed a classmate through the door, grazing over the mostly empty room. It was smaller than you expected, you had the pick of the litter.

Middle, middle row was the superior spot. Close enough to pay attention, but far enough to not gain it. Sitting in the center left you throw your bag in the seat next to you and start to set things up, pulling out your laptop, the class syllabus and a pen.

Putting your headphones away and sitting straighter, you focus on the whiteboard, in rainbow bubble letters is your professor's name, ‘Dr. Thatcher.’ It’s cute, you grin at the small hint of personality. Watching students slowly fill in the back rows you sit straighter knowing your row would be next, hopeful your neighbors would be friendly.

Your head turns when the seat next to you is filled, it’s a frat boy.

“God, I am so fucking excited for this term, how about you?”

It’s Ethan Keznek. You never studied him, you knew who he was but you never actually noticed him, but looking into his eyes all you could think of was how long his eyelashes were. It seems like he’s noticing you too, he’s sly with it but he’s looking you up and down.

“Plants aren’t my thing, but I’m assuming they’re yours?”

A toothy smile, you can immediately tell he’s had braces before. He releases a breath before exploding, “god, they’re amazing, aren’t they? Self sustaining, self producing, they literally give us the air we breathe. How could you not find plants extraordinary?”

Ethan’s eyes have a twinkle, it shows passion. You tilt your chin at him, “please tell me you’re majoring in botany, the world needs a lorax.” He breaks into a laugh, it’s charming and contagious, you smile with him.

“Lucky guess, what’s yours?”

You shift in your seat to face him better, “biology’s actually my minor, I’m majoring in english.” Ethan whistles, “big reader?” You nod, “if you ever need some recommendations, I’m your girl.”

Ethan tilts his head and sticks his hand out, “Ethan Keznek, nice to meet you.” You stick your hand in his and shake it, it’s strikingly soft. You introduce yourself and his smile grows, “well,” he says your name and pauses, both of your eyes looking to the front when your new professor enters.

He talks softly, “I will make it my personal mission to make you enjoy plants this semester.” You turn to focus on the front but talk out the corner of your mouth, “unless someone like you cares a whole lot…”

You bite back a grin when you catch him laughing silently, both of you sitting in quiet when your teacher starts to introduce herself. She’s young and a redhead, everything about her seems symmetrical. Something tells you the semester wouldn’t be so bad.

The class was an hour, followed by an hour lab. Class wasn’t bad, the first day was always easy, mostly introductions to the class, the work and the expectations. You stood and stretched before slowly repacking your belongings, Ethan working at the same speed, you assume to keep up with you.

As he zipped his backpack, Ethan cleared his throat and looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and waited, “I know it’s the first day, but would you want to be my lab partner?” It’s the first time you’ve truly met him, but you feel nothing but comfortable around him, he’s kind.

“It would be my honor.”

—---------

Peter Parker was handsome, and pretty, and captivating and slightly mean. You couldn’t stay away from him, but his attitude was enough to make you question if he’s worth the frustration.

You swore to yourself you’d go after him this year, you promised you’d get him into bed. But you can’t deny how good Ethan looked in a lab coat; even safety goggles couldn’t dim those green-brown eyes.

“God I missed this, I was separated from test tubes and pipettes all summer.”

You breathe out your nose as a laugh, “you’re one of those kids that lost his shit over getting a chemistry set for christmas, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, mouthing numbers as he counts his drops, looking at you and the sheet in front of you, bouncing back and forth until you catch the hint.

“Oh!” You scribble the reaction, smiling when he corrects you. “It was a botany kit.”

Looking over at him you can feel a tiny tug on your stomach, it felt like you were losing the plot from Peter. You wanted it to work with Peter, you didn’t really know him outside of surface value, but it felt like you did, and you know that sounds weird, but when he’s around you feel a bit more like yourself.

But Ethan’s easy. “Of course it was.” Ethan’s back to measurements, “you doing anything Friday?” You nibble at your cheek, you know what he’s about to ask. “Nope, you?” He nods, “the frat’s doing freshman Friday,” Ethan looks over his shoulder to ask you, “planning on coming?”

Peter may have asked you first, and you promised you’d be committed to the task, but if he viewed you as a backup plan, you should have one too. Not that Ethan was a second choice, he was just another option at this point.

“Are you kidding? The Sig Nu freshman welcome is famous for a reason, you think I’d miss it?” Ethan diverted his attention to the PH chart on the page resting between you.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He cleared his throat and nodded at a test tube, “that’s a solid four, don’t you think?” You hold your hands up in surrender, “you’re the plant expert, lorax.”

Your pencil is plucked from your hand, he writes his fours odd. He can’t stop making you smile, “well, unless someone like me cares a whole lot…”

—---------------

The entire group was at your dorm. By the entire group you mean Ally, Matt, Prince, and Natalie. A pack of forgotten cards scattered on the floor, everyone focused on their red cups and speaking over each other. Sarah was unable to join in person, but she’s on a facetime call and jumping in when she can.

“On god, I’m gonna fuck my atonamy professor this year.” You choked at Sarah’s comment, Natalie immediately cheering, “who is it?” Sarah bit her lip explaining, “just the hottest hunk of ass to exist. Dr. Youge, and trust me, I wanna go rogue, if you know what I mean.”

“Can confirm, he’s sexy.”

Matt breaks from his twelve minute makeout with Ally, “Prince, you think everyone’s sexy.” He’s nodding accordingly, “because they are.”

“Is this a good time to say Nate and I made it official?” The group overlaps in exclaims, Natalie in the hot seat for a second, her cheeks on fire.

“When?!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“What?!”

Natalie pushes her hair behind her ears, gold jewelry on display. “Um, well, basically he said he didn’t picture himself settling down but the idea of someone being able to swoop me up made him sick.”

You and Ally form a chorus, Prince joins in halfway through while Matt claps his hands over his ears, “awwww.” He can’t stand the squealing, “yeah, yeah, yeah…” Matt kicks your knee, “did you know Harvey's coming on friday?”

Interest piqued, you hadn’t known, but the promise of the night ending in sex was in your cards and it makes everything about the first week of school better. A reward, if you will.

In two days you have three prospects, Mrs. Caliban was right, this was your year. “I didn’t but…” your eyes shoot to Prince’s, you’d claim dibs because he was yours first, but you didn’t want a hookup to cause a friendship to rift.

“Oh please, I was sloppy seconds. He’s yours.” You stick out your tongue, “why else would he come?”

“The frat. To help the frat kick off the start of the year, because he's an alum. Of the frat.”

Natalie scoffs, “Ally, tell your boyfriend he’s stupid. Harvey’s obviously coming for girly and girly alone. Your frat is just a cover up.” It wasn’t, but Matt was gullible and hell bent on proving you wrong.

“No, it’s tradition. All the old chapter presidents come back after their first graduation. It’s a hello and goodbye thing, like a, um… what am I thinking of, babe?” Ally fixes a piece of his hair sticking straight up, “passing of the torch?” Matt’s thick hand squeezed her bum sending Prince gagging and Natalie blushing. “So fuckin’ smart, I love when you know what I’m thinking.”

Natalie jumps up after looking at her cracked phone screen, “and I’m thinking Nate’s wondering where I am cause I forgot we had a date tonight.” Ally hissed in through her teeth, “play the ‘helped a crying friend’ card, say Matt and I got in a fight.”

Matt stage whispers, “we didn’t have a fight, right?” His girlfriend shakes her head, patting at the tuft of hair sticking up from his scalp, “no, honey.” A grin cracks, “good-” Ally interrupts, “unless Nate asks, then we got in a fight and you made me cry.”

“A total mess, she was weeping all over the floor. Natalie had to help me get her into bed.” Prince jumps in, “I was also there, and crying in support of the Matt strike.”

“So, call you guys if I need to bury a body? Got it.” You speak over the group laugh, “yeah, right. Call Noa, she’d have that shit taken care of in an hour.”

“No, but that’s actually so true.”

“She’s scary but in a sexy way.” Matt groans, “again with the sexy, Prince, good lord.”

“Everyone’s sexy! We’ve been over this!”

Natalie slowly gathers her things, giving you and Ally a silent salute at the door, Prince and Matt bickering back and forth. Looking back at your laptop you shrug, Sarah’s made another silent escape. You wave to your friend watching the door creak open, Natalie doesn’t feel bad for missing out. Neither does Sarah, apparently. “Okay, have fun, byeee.” The door slamming made the boys stop, blinking aware and immediately forgetting why they were debating.

The main squad together at last, you bring the real topics to the table. Clearing your throat and pouring a new drink, you look at the group. “So, Paul, what’s the inside scoop with the pledges and how do I make money out of this?” (As if you didn’t already know.)

Ally and Prince start speaking over each other. “Nope!”

“Not happening!”

“There’s a reason Matt doesn’t vote! He’s biased!” Matt plows right through, “thou shall not steal, it’s a commandment, babe.” You snort, “and what would I be stealing?”

The blonde shrugs, “my knowledge.”

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

Sleep was tasting good today, you planned on sleeping in as long as you could. The type of sleeping where you get tired of sleeping and open your eyes wide awake and well rested.

The keyword was planned, it’s been a nice summer off from Ally and Matt, because you forgot how they were early risers and were dependent on you for their enjoyment.

“Hey, get up.” You politely ignore the request, it’s already too bright, Ally ripped the curtains apart so you’re hidden under your pillow.

“Oh roomie, please rise.” Even when a pillow slams down on your butt you don’t move, you even attempt to hold your breath, hopeful they’d think you were dead and let your body decompose into your mattress. You wheeze for air and try to scramble from the bed when Matt throws himself on top of you, bouncing and pushing all his weight into you, rattling your name off like an impatient toddler.

“I miss the days when Ally slept at the house,” you try and yell it out, it comes out in squeaks when Ally mounts Matt, “it’s my day off and I’m getting dogpiled!”

“Get up! There’s belgian waffles at the dining hall!” You had the entire day to nap, there were waffles to be eaten. You wriggle around until the bodies on you disappear and you’re heaving for air. Throwing the blanket off and standing you give your friends a staredown before ripping your shirt off. Matt throws his hands over his eyes and screams, “thou shall not commit adultery, thou shall not commit adultery!”

“If you sleep here you see my boobs, Ally knows the rules!” Matt’s screaming at his girlfriend, “it’s a sin! Adultery is a sin!” Ally pushes his side, “you screamed sin before you saw nipple!” You’re changing clothes as fast as you can, if anything Matt would be scarred and keep Ally with him at his place, then you might be able to get some real sleep.

“Sorry, Matt, but, uh… maybe if you sleep at your house you won’t see my boobs?” Ally gives you a glare from God himself, “Matty, this is what she wants. Next time, you better stare right at them.” Her boyfriend cries out, “no!” You roll your eyes, “all covered, you sinner. I’m ready for waffles.”

Matt can’t even look at you in the eyes, a weary finger is pointed at your chest. “Temptation lives in you.”

—----------------

If there wasn’t butter coating each small square in your waffle, there wasn’t enough butter. Noa Carter slides into a seat next to you, wiping syrup from your chin, you smile and take another bite.

“Pledge secured?” Your eyes shoot around, looking for Ally and Matt, it eases your racing heart when they’re still in line loading up.

“I’m meeting with Trent tomorrow night.” You feel gross, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. “Do you think anyone’s gonna find out?” Noa chews on the straw from her ice coffee, “if Trent lets it slip to anyone else then Matt finds out, if he finds out Ally does, and once she knows, everyone knows.”

“Fuck, I know. He can’t say anything, we- I mean, I have leverage.”

“You think he can’t buy his way into school again?” You shake your head, speaking while you chew, “not without everyone knowing.” Noa tilts her head, she’s saying ‘fair point,’ with her motion. You grab her hand, “hey, thanks again. For the help, and keeping it between us.”

Noa was nice, but not kind. She was a valuable resource for the group but made it clear she was into friendships for the transactional side. Noa could keep a secret, and she knew people in places you didn’t know existed, but if you used those talents she’d need yours in return. A deal with the devil each time you talk to her.

“You’re indebted to me, you know that, right?” She was serious too, not fucking around while trying to get the last bit of coffee through the ice. You nod stiffly, it could be today or twenty years, but when she calls in that favor you have to abide.

“Hey, Noa!” Ally’s always nice, Matt barely looks at her before shoving the corner of a waffle in his mouth. Noa looks at him in disgust and taps her knuckles on the table, “I'm out, see you later.” Ally pouts, “bye, Noa!” She smiles politely, “goodbye, Ally.”

You thank her again with your eyes, “you coming to the party tomorrow?” Noa rotates her hand back and forth, giving you a so-so response. “We’ll see.” Watching Noa walk off you can understand how people find her both mesmerizing and scary, she carries herself in a way that screams she’s the smartest in the room and you believe it.

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” You face Ally and watch her chew on a strawberry, “dunno yet, wanna dress me?” Her face lights up, nodding quickly she swallows, “I got this top over the summer and it’s gonna look so good on you!” Matt speaks staring at his phone, a gameplay blasting through his speakers. “Will Harvey Guyn find it hot?”

If you could reach across the table you’d smack him, instead you finish your waffle. “Does he even have a room there, cause fucking on a twin is torture,” you look at your roommate, “unless we put the beds together…”

Ally raises her hand to cover her mouth while she eats, “I’ll be sleeping with Matty at the house, when I come back Saturday afternoon, and the room is how it was when I left and my sheets are clean… I’ll be none the wiser to what happened.”

You slide your plate away and reach your fork over the table to steal a banana slice, “I was joking but it’s nice to know you’re so-” you chew and stare at Matt while he rubs at his nose and wipes it on his pants; you look back at Ally and grimace. “-kind.”

“Harvey’s crashing in the chapter room, so unless you like a pull-out couch I recommend staying at yours.” You look at Ally, “what’s the chapter room?” You’ve never heard of it, or seen it. And you’re positive that besides the top floor where the members slept, you’ve been in every room of the house.

“A secret room that no one but chapter officers are allowed to be in. I’ve seen it but I’ve never been inside. I tried one time and Matt told me to leave.” Eesh, if Matt kicked Ally out that means it’s a cardinal rule. “So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep in there?”

Matt nods, “correct.” Ally leans into her boyfriend and grabs his elbow, he keeps his focus on his phone while she whispers in his ear. Taking some time to look around the dining hall you recognized a few faces, waving at a girl you shared a few classes with last year.

When you looked up to the upper level, you locked eyes with Peter. You were being sucked in and couldn’t stop. It was like he was telling you to come closer, come talk to him, like he’s inviting you to his table. The chatter in the room fizzled away, time stood still. It felt like your hearts were in sync, it felt like he was looking into you, it felt like you had a crush.

It felt stupid to think anyone could come close to him.

Peter wasn’t looking away, instead analyzing you the same way. He wasn’t sneering, he was curious. You never knew brown eyes could be so captivating, you wonder if he knew how dangerous he was.

Forced to break away when Ally noticed, “who are we looking at?” You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want anyone to know. You stop her from turning, “I thought I saw someone I went to high school with,” you look back up, Peter disappeared.

“False alarm.”

-----

It was just you and Spider-Man in your room.

His plush body laid across your chest, your arms wrapped tight around had flattened him. You spent your day watching Netflix, but after hours it became boring and you switched to scrolling through your phone, hopping between apps before you ended on instagram.

You clutched Spider-Man tighter when you hit the search tab, his name popping up first. He never used his main account, three posts from the past two years. You found his burner account, it was set to private. You wanted nothing more than to push that request to follow, but he didn’t know you like that just yet.

The second you were allowed to follow Peter Parker’s finsta, you’d plow through all one hundred and twelve posts, analyzing each one. You chew your lip for a moment and go to Ally’s page, searching through her followers you see his account, you debate on getting her phone and stalk that way, but it feels like cheating.

It’s eight pm and you think nothing other than frozen yogurt would stop your obsession, so you grabbed your keycard and left Spider-Man to keep your spot warm.

You had an early class the next day and a party with three people you could talk to, one of them being someone that would forsure be in your bed. If only Peter would have you in his bed first. If you were being honest, you’d love to see Peter fight for you.

It’s only slightly exhausting being delusional.

The food hall was dead and you went from mildly hungry to starving the second you smelled food, detoring for a quick sandwich you stuffed it in your bag before crossing the floor for your sweet treat. A prickle on the back of your neck told you to look to your left, at a table with his brothers, was Peter Parker.

It felt like a gravitational pull, you manifested him being in your life since last year and it’s finally happening. The next time you and Prince go out you’re pulling him into a psychic’s shop for a reading. You were caught by who you think was Tarrent, if you remember correctly, he hooked up with Natalie your freshman year.

Blue eyes met yours, just the smallest hint of a smile. It sent you turning your head and stepping behind the bathroom wall for a breather, hiding in embarrassment. You counted to thirty before peeking your head from around the corner, Tarrent kept your secret, no one was looking at you.

This time, watching yourself, you don’t bump into anyone in line for frozen yogurt. You’d hate for another lesson in spatial awareness, unless it’s coming from Peter, in that case you’d take any kind of conversation.

Even when he’s berating you he’s pretty.

Leaving with your cup of dessert you watch Peter walk right by you, hearing his mumbles of a Beastie Boys song. You couldn’t help yourself, a chance at hello. It was an opportunity to have a normal conversation, maybe more of his shining character would come through. Taking a seat at a hightop near the bathrooms you wait until your target comes out.

Humming at the taste of sugar hitting your tongue you look over to his table, you notice Ethan and you hope he doesn’t notice you too. To put it bluntly, you didn’t want Peter thinking he had competition. You don’t even consider Harvey Guyn as competition, he was just a good fuck. He didn’t get dinner with you or take you on dates, and you didn’t want that. At least not from him.

Harvey’s conversations were dry and always built around impressing the people around him. He had great successes for someone his age, but daddy’s money didn’t impress you much.

You sit straighter when you hear the bathroom door open, listening to Peter mumble rap a chorus you jumped in, “another girl, another fight.” He jumped slightly, surprised to see you sitting right next to him. Taking another bite you stare in his eyes while you wrap your tongue around the spoon, Peter sounds breathless when he speaks.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Peter.”

The look on his face told you if he didn’t notice you before, he did now. Did you just stand out from the crowd with one word? You think so. Peter clears his throat lightly, “and you are…” he wants you to fill in the blank, you find some joy in being mysterious, even if it’s just for another night. You pluck your spoon from your mouth, a wide smirk paints on your lips.

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” It mildly annoyed him and it made your stomach tug, something about his expression made you happy to bother him. Until he called your bluff, you might have planned this one interaction but everywhere else he just seems to notice you. You’ve always had a wandering eye for him but he’s just now catching on.

Giving him a scouts honor, you promise you haven’t been following him, because you haven’t. It’s that universal pull, each time you’re around him it’s like you’re tasting air while also being breathless. He’s pretty, too pretty for his own good.

Peter’s tempting even when he’s slightly misogynistic, you think he likes your attitude. If there’s one thing you learned, it’s that a man likes it when he has to do a little chasing. You have an early class and Spider-Man at home.

Sliding from your seat, your shoes squeak on the linoleum. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” Dare you boldly claim he looked a little disappointed? It seemed like he was. You wish him a goodnight and he returns it, you can’t stop your satisfied smile when you feel him watching you leave.

Quickly stomping up the stairs you look back at Peter’s table, you escaped with only one person looking back at you. Tarrent shoots you a wink, it wasn’t one that was directed at you, but directed at your actions. He knows nothing of you but you have his support, it makes you curious at best, cautious at worst. You stare at the floor until you reach the door, pushing out and taking in the fresh air.

It didn’t feel as refreshing as when you were with Peter. You shrug it off, you already had someone waiting back at home.

Spider-Man’s just as dependent on you as you are him.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

Morning classes sucked because they were in the morning. Morning classes were awesome because you felt like you focused better, and there was a better student to teacher ratio. Ally whined when your alarm went off, you stood with her in solidarity, because fuck waking up to a slow steady build of music.

“Sorry, roomie.”

Her hand poked from a blanket, waving you off from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was in annoyance or understanding. She had another hour before her class and she was planning to crush thirty of those minutes by hitting snooze.

You moved quickly and quietly, only packing what was needed, and opting for an oversized university hoodie sans your bra. You believed in one thing, casual friday; and you honor it every week. Silently shutting your dorm door you cruise down the hallway, taking in the deep silence and empty scene.

You weren’t a morning person at all, you preferred to wake up slowly and on your own terms, most times hitting snooze way too many times. But you loved the slow calm of the morning, watching the sun fully rise, hearing birds scream the earth awake, feeling empathy for every person with tired, puffy eyes.

Morning’s were gentle, and sometimes you really enjoyed gentle. Friday was your creative writing class and you think it’ll be your favorite for the next year.

Your hypothesis proved true because your professor was the hottest silver fox you’ve ever seen. Every fantasy of being bent over your teachers desk was racing through your mind, you didn’t know how you could ever pay attention.

When he talks, his words curl around your ears, a stubble buzz in your stomach makes you focus in on his lips, watching them pout around ‘S’s. “Hey,” she was late, but Noa was there. “Hey,” you whisper back.

Her smirk is devilish, “talk to Trent yet?” It’d be a punishment until you finished your plan, then she’d let it die. It’s something to do with making her efforts worth it, and making you owe her a favor. You almost regret asking her, but the payoff is worth the narcissism.

Since freshman year, you, Ally, Prince and Natalie made a bet on one person rushing to make it into full recruitment. Sarah joined last year but backed out this year, she’d be too busy in her nursing classes, she made it pretty clear she’d be absent this year.

When it started everyone pitched in a hundred bucks, Natalie won. Last year everyone pitched in five hundred, Ally won. You love your friends, but it left a sour taste in your mouth that people who didn’t need the extra pocket money won.

You weren’t lying when you had a summer job, but it was quickly drained with class and book payments. None of your friends had to worry about that. So, when you found out that your high school friend's ex-boyfriend's little brother was rushing for Sigma Nu, a plan formed.

You upped the stakes this year, big time. Tripling the honey pot by three, fifteen hundred each. That was half of your summer job money, but the payoff was worth the temporary loss. You had an in at the frat and you knew how much the competition games meant, being number one fraternity was the most important thing for Sig Nu, especially after losing it last year to Alpha Delta.

Next step was getting someone to secure the information, enter Noa. She had cracked into every frat on campus and gotten the files, printed them out and completed the job with a pretty folder. It was Noa’s idea to get dirt on Trent, you commended her for her smarts, she claimed she just really hated him.

The real plan was making sure your pledge made it in and no other friends won so you wouldn’t have to share the honey pot. It was skeevy and made you feel slightly dirty, but sometimes you have to play in the mud so you can eat dinner for the year.

As long as no one found out, you’d be okay. Although, deep in your heart you know that while your friends would feel betrayed at first, they’d understand and come around. Mostly because Matt would use some christian wisdom on them and smite them into forgiveness.

“Tonight.” Noa nods, “you impress me, friend. You really, really do.” You give a nervous smile at your new professor when he calls you out for talking, with his wise smirk, you believe Peter Parker may have some competition.

—----------------

At fifteen past four, you got the message you’ve been waiting on, you bit your lip and opened the text, the contact saved as Harvey G.

‘You’re coming to the party tonight, right?’

‘Just for you 😊’

‘I love when you lie to me, it really gets me going.’

‘You know what gets me going? Fucking you on a twin XL.’

‘Dirty talk, that’s my girl.’

‘Wear something pretty for me and I’ll let you call me daddy tonight.’

‘You wish.’

You’d be wearing something pretty tonight, but not for Harvey. You were dressing up for the pure intention of catching Peter Parker’s eye. It was a personal mission to turn you from a backup plan to number one, worse comes to worse, you’d pull out the best friend card and use Ethan as a pawn. Harvey was a set hookup, you didn’t need to impress him with anything. You’ve never even slept in the same bed, and you didn’t care to. He looked like a snorer.

Sending a quick text to Ally to try and figure out the game plan, she responds with a very general answer, so you text Prince to come over and entertain you. He responded with a salute emoji, ‘prepare to be entertained.’

—--------

You and Prince are tilting your head at the same angle, you’re trying to make sense of what you were seeing but the proportions weren’t adding up. It didn’t seem natural, you block out the exaggerated moaning and follow in tilting your head the opposite way when the camera switches positions.

“I mean… that couldn’t… feel good… right?” Prince is looking for your opinion, you nod with him. “Yeah, I don’t… this can’t be real, right?” It’s like you've been heard, the camera angle changes and you’re staring at a man’s asshole as he piledrives into his female co-star. Prince gasps with you, “oh my god! How is she doing that?!” You whistle low, “drugs, Prince. Lots and lots of drugs.” Suddenly, Prince becomes interested.

“You know, sometimes I forget how much the female body amazes me.” You narrow your eyes, “call me a female again, I dare you.” Prince’s voice squeaks, “no thank you, you powerful, beautiful woman.” You pat his green hair, “good boy.”

For once, Ally entered into your dorm without Matt following behind. Prince clapped and told her he was proud she could walk inside all by herself. Her response was, “aw, you’re so cute when you’re lonely.” Prince pretended to bite her.

“So,” Ally opened her tote bag and pulled out a paper bag filled with Sammi’s Sandwiches. “Wanna eat and get ready?” Prince starts bowing, you follow suit.

“All hail queen Ally.”

“Damn right, bitches.”

The second you took your last bite Ally had you in front of your closet mirror while she stood behind you with two shirts on hangers, alternating to hold up each one over your torso.

“Ugh, I wanted you in the green but I think the black would be better.” “Yeah, I think if I hang around Prince it’ll be too much green, ya know?” Prince coughed and breadcrumbs spewed. “I’m sorry, you think you’ll be hanging out with me instead of Harvey?”

“I can’t exactly go in there, grab him, and get out, can I?” Your roommate nods while she fixes your hair, “you absolutely can, I do it with Matty all the time.” You roll your eyes at her in the mirror, “that’s different, you guys are like… common law married at this point.”

Prince is sitting sideways in a chair letting the blood rush to his head, he sits up slightly and slips out a possibility while you adjust your bra strap. “What are the chances Harvey gets so plastered tonight you won’t hookup?”

The elastic snaps on your shoulder when you give him a cold glare, “don’t even try to be funny.” He grins wickedly and presses his thumbs to his middle fingers, “not funny, babe. Manifesting.”

Ally has to hold you back when you lurch at him.

—--------------

You’re lucky you have Prince to keep Ally occupied, you’re a little too lost in your thoughts as you all walk towards frat row. Keeping your arms to your chest you conserve heat, it’s starting to get chilly at night. The first thing you wanted to do was get Trent out of the way, then you’d chat with Ethan while you scope the scene for Peter. Oh god, Harvey. You had too many men to entertain tonight, it would be near impossible to keep them from bumping into each other outside your revolving door.

You just had to play calm and make a game plan. Number one would be Trent, number two would be Harvey, so you could make plans for after the party, number three would be Ethan and certainly not least, you’d be keeping an eye on Peter Parker. Your palms feel clammy thinking about your secret with Trent, you push each plan back by one. The first step would be getting some liquid courage. Brought back to life by gentle bantering, your opinion is needed.

“I could totally ice Matt out, right?”

“Bro, I have two hundred on it right now.”

“You think I can’t live without him?” You butt in, “no, but you can’t let him think you’re mad at him. Even when you’re fighting you tell him you’re not mad at him. It’s gross.” Prince nods while Ally gasps in offense, “I’d love to see it, I think he’d have a mental breakdown.”

“Is it so terrible of me that I don’t like making my boyfriend sad?”

You hang an arm around Ally’s neck and pull her in, “it makes you a better girlfriend than I could ever be.” She giggles and hangs onto you, “I think frat boys like that, maybe it’s time you start sleeping with a member and not alumni.”

You’re not hiding anything out of spite, but because you felt like you wanted to figure it out on your own. And she’s a little pushy, if you were to spill on Peter before ready she’d try everything possible to get Matt involved. Sometimes Ally’s wingmanning ruined potential hookups, and by sometimes, it’s every time. “Ha. Good one.”

Prince steps in to hand his arm around your neck, you three of you stumbling in unison. “Don’t worry, friend. You’ll have your pick on the ski trip.” You flashed a smile, following a crowd of bodies across the crosswalk.

Letting each other go when you hit the first frat house you fix your shirt. Ally was right, it looked really good on you.

There were at least forty kids waiting to get in, only two members on door duty. Following freshmen up the steps you smile at a brother, Prince pays his entrance fee while you hold hands with Ally.

You take a deep breath, and release it when you step in the house.

Welcome to the start of the year.

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