Meeting Ian Ch. 01

I had never been good at tests; my SATs were low. Like worrisomely. As an English major, I could write an essay with the best of them. But the second I had to bubble in an answer, I was done for. New member meetings started with a quiz of what we learned the last week. I tried, I really tried but the first two weeks came back with failing grades.

Austin asked me to stay behind after the third as our new member educator he had the distinguished job of teaching all the pledges exactly what it meant to be a lambda and me not doing well on the tests was looking bad for him—and me. His voice wasn't exactly pitched low and I promised rapidly that I would do better on the next quiz.

I could feel pinpricks of tears start as I left the room running straight into Ian. Fucking great. The full chapter had meetings after the new member meeting and it was just shit luck that I ran into Ian. Or maybe it was better, he wasn't going to make fun of me.

"Whoa. Artie, everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's great." I muscled away from him walking stiffly away.

I was at home curled not around my assigned reading for classes but the small bound book of the traditions and histories of Lambda when I got a text: Want to talk about what happened today? I checked my phone: no contact. With dread, I guessed who it was but wanted to be sure.

Is this Ian? I texted back, hedging the time I had to answer.

Yep! Your friendly neighborhood IFC president is just checking in because it looked like Austin made you cry today.

I didn't cry. I texted back.

Yeah, I've heard allergies are really bad in September. Seriously, what happened?

Don't want to talk about it.

There was a long pause before the buzz came. Okay. How about we get our interview with over today. It might be the only time I'm free in the next few weeks.

He was such a dick. One of the requirements of initiation was to have an interview with every member of Lambda. It was only forty guys but those logistics were really hard as it was, without Ian threatening to withhold his.

Fine. Where?

West Campus in 15?

Begrudgingly, I agreed. And fifteen minutes later I was standing in front of the swipe in area of the large cafeteria. I was still in my slacks, not bothering to change after the new member meeting where we were required to be dressed up. Ian similarly hadn't changed wearing a tight Lambda t-shirt, a baseball hat and jeans.

With a perfunctory greeting to me, he lavished attention on the elderly woman who swipes the cards. "Alicia, how are you?"

"Ian, it's been too long. You're too skinny!"

"I live in a house now, Alicia. I have to learn to cook for myself."

"Bah," she waved away his concerns before smiling at him, "Who is your friend?"

"Artie, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the matriarch of the campus, Ms. Alicia."

I smiled and offered my hand, "Nice to meet you Alicia." I felt more than slightly embarrassed that I had been at school for more than a year but had never bothered to meet any of the support staff.

We both handed over our cards to be swiped and as I walked away, I heard Alicia call Ian, "guapo". Definitely not wrong.

The food in West Campus is mediocre at best. My burger was soggy and I cut my eyes at Ian's lasagna. Didn't look much better.

"Alright, I have to interview you. So, what's your major?"

"Boring question." He replied.

Not like I didn't agree, "It's on the sheet we have to fill out."

"So you're only going to ask what's on the sheet?" His eyes twinkled with amusement and I was struck with how pretty they are. Many people don't call attention to brown eyes, but these were no muddy depths. They were warm and soft, with amber flecks that refracted the light.

"I'm certainly going to ask what is on it. Otherwise, I'd be an even worse pledge than I already am."

He stopped for a moment, "Here's the deal, Artie. You tell me what happened and I'll be very helpful for you filling out the interview sheet."

"What's your major?"

He sighed, "International Affairs with a minor in Business. Now, what happened."

I dutifully scribbled out his answer. Wishing he hadn't seen me upset, "I failed both of the quizzes."

Ian blew out a breath, "Because you didn't study or what?"

"I don't take tests well. I failed the written part of my driver's test twice. I know everything but the second the test is in front of me... I just panic."

"So you promise you know everything?"

"Yeah."

"What year were we founded?"

"1895."

"List our founders alphabetically."

I did with ease and he sat back with a satisfied smile. "Great, I'll explain to Austin the situation and you can take your quizzes orally with him after the meetings."

"That's special treatment; my pledge brothers are going to be pissed," I said though I was internally doing cartwheels that it might be an option

"No, it's evening the playing field. You clearly have some anxiety over test taking so we are making reasonable accommodations. It would be special treatment to say you didn't have to take any assessment at all."

I gazed at him astounded, "So I guess you're pretty good at the diplomacy side of your major?"

"Top of my class and everything." He had a really nice smile, all full lips and white Chiclet teeth.

"Thank you."

"It's no big deal, Artie. I don't want you to drop because of some misunderstanding. Austin should have asked what was up but he can be a little bit of a tool." He took a bite of his lasagna, grimacing, "Alright, ask me some questions but you have to answer them as well."

The questions were boring but he wasn't. Asking him about his siblings lead to a twenty-minute story of the time his sister and him got into a prank war. He was generous in his questions too, asking insightful follow-ups but never making me feel uncomfortable.

The only one that made me squirm was, "So, how are you liking Lambda?"

"Uh, it's interesting. I can see the brotherhood starting to form between me and the other pledges. I'm excited for the opportunity."

I thought I had fooled him until he started laughing, "You should consider switching majors. That was a very political answer, you'd fit in really well in my classes. What's the real answer, Artie?"

"It's weird. I guess I just thought there would be more social stuff. It's just been these interviews and tests and meetings."

Ian smirked, "Didn't think you were really into partying."

"Trying new things, expanding my horizons." No, not really into partying at all.

"You guys are going to come to the kick back before our party this weekend. If you guys do okay: maybe you can stay for the party."

The intervening days were boring. Filled with interviews far less interesting than Ian's which had ending memorably with Alicia sneaking him a plate of cookies. Food was on lockdown in West. You can't bring it out but Ian just accepted it with a gracious smile and a thanks and walked out no problem.

Friday came, we had gotten a message in our group text about the party and I only felt slightly superior that I had the upper hand, the inside track.

Austin had walked in to the room followed by several of the fraternity brothers, an entire handle of Smirnoff in hand. He plunked it down onto the table in the middle of us. One of the other brothers threw down some cups and a bottle of orange juice.

"Alright, here's the game. I can't make you drink this as a condition of being initiated but if you want to come to the party, as a team this handle has to be finished. You guys have an hour and half before people start arriving. Happy drinking."

Fuck. Our pledge class was small and a handle was way too much alcohol. I knew I was a fucking lightweight. And that was even more concerning when immediately Chase piped up, "Well to get this done we each need to take six, maybe seven shots."

The other guys all chorused variations of: "Doable," "Sure," and "Get me a cup."

The first drink we decided should just be us trying to kill the alcohol, four shots with a tiny bit of the mixer. Four shots was my maximum, the kind of drinking that had be regretting the day I was born. Aside from being smaller than most men, I was just not as tolerant to the booze. Not to sound as gay as I am, but I'd take a glass of wine over a beer or liquor any day.

I made it through that cup, shooting the shit with the guys. I don't want to advocate for underage or binge drinking but it really was a social lubricant. I could feel myself loosening up, being more a friend. So when the call for shots came, I was fucking in.

I didn't need a chaser. I was on top of the world. Why had I been afraid of booze before? I was making it my bitch!: All things I yelled out to my new friends.

By the time we tipped the bottle over and yelled out our victory, I was way too warm and pulled off my sweater leaving only white t-shirt and my jeans. Austin came back into the room and looked suitably impressed that we had completed it.

The party was already in full swing as we walked down the stairs. Boston isn't a big fan of fraternities and sororities having official bought houses. So this was just a house that seven brothers happened to be renting. It was four floors and all Lambda: affectionately called 48 after its address.

It was in pretty bad shape and parties like that night weren't going to help. I spotted one of the brothers dancing on their kitchen counter sandwiched between two girls and dancing like they were about to head upstairs, all three of them.

It was every stereotype I had imagined and it was fucking awesome. Drew slipped a cup into my hands clearly not seeing that my eyelids were barely staying open as it was. I drained the cup way too fast, moving into the party. It tasted like nothing but it definitely wasn't water. I got pulled into the throb of people dancing by a pretty little girl. She wasn't doing anything for me but I was hammered and dancing was the best thing for me. I shook my ass like I was getting paid.

One second I was feeling like a king obsessed with the fun, the touch, the heat, the synergy of us all being young and wild and free and then I was going to puke. The motion was dizzying and I could barely see.

I fought my way through the crowd but at every bathroom there was a line of girls on their phones who would go into the bathroom in strange groups. I was going to puke.

I fought my way outside and leaning against the porch finally heaved.

"So, how are we doing?" Even through the drunken haze, I knew his voice.

"Fuck off."

He just laughed, "I need to get you back inside. If a cop drives down and sees you puking, we're fucked."

I let him manhandle me into a standing position. Leaning on him massively as my head spun and my stomach churned, he led me through the party. He didn't stop to talk to all of the people that called out to him keeping his attention on me.

"So, the handle challenge went well did it? I heard you drank O'Haare's share when he bitched out." That thought drifted through my head. Did I? That sounds idiotic. Sounds like me when I'm drunk. "Here, sleep it off." He pushed me down onto a soft surface and set me up on my side with a bucket underneath me. I succumbed to the best sleep I've ever had.

Waking up was a hell-scape. My head was a horrific nightmare of pounding and aching. My mouth tasted like battery acid.

"Good morning, Randall," I groaned at how loud the voice was and then at my own groan.

Opening my eyes, I could see Drew and Austin's grinning faces, "Ugh, where am I?"

"48. You passed out in Sherman's bed." Fucking fantastic.

"Where is Ian?" I had to apologize to him.

"He's downstairs supervising the crew. We volunteered to come wake you up."

Hung over, my brain wasn't working at top speed, "The crew?"

"Yeah, you guys are cleaning up the house. So, grab a water and get up. They've already started."

I moved sluggishly, my body not responding well to all of a sudden being vertical nor the smell of lemon pledge that assaulted my body.

The first pledge I saw was Matt on his hands and knees scrubbing what looked like pure jungle juice out of the couch. As I passed he let out an excited, "Yo Randall. Sick party last night, right?"

I could barely let out a whimper, so I moved my head in a nod with a thumbs up. I sobered up with the water and with cleaning up the outside which was my designated area because according to Austin, "You claimed that when you yakked all over it." Was cleaning up my own puke a little demeaning? Yep. But it got me outside. I was bagging the solo cups strewn around the lawn when I saw Chris another pledge brother lifting his garbage into the dumpster, "Randall! You were on fire man! Rebecca was so sad when you left. You gotta teach me how to dance like that." Who the fuck was Rebecca? Another vague affirmation and I was free. I sat drinking my water when I saw a familiar profile.

"Ian!" I called out. He flung around, smirking when his eyes landed on me.

"Sup, Randall? How's the king of the party?"

I wasn't in the mood for his jokes, "How badly did I embarrass myself?"

He sat down on the bench, "Honestly, you killed it. I had three girls ask where you went. You were the life of the party until you started throwing up. That wasn't even too embarrassing. Drew, his freshman year, threw up on a girl."

"Why is everyone calling me Randall?"

It started as a stifled laugh but he couldn't contain himself, "According to the others, after stepping in and drinking for Matt. You took the last shot and declared yourself, Finish the Handle Randall. All in all, not the worst nickname and a fair rhyme for being that drunk."

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, trying to keep from cursing at my own stupidity. This is why I didn't drink. I don't like making an ass out of myself. "I'm sorry I passed out in your bed."

"It's all good. You needed it more than me." He was quiet for a moment, "Hey, seriously don't worry about it. No one was arrested. No one got really hurt. You stepped up and paid the consequences for the brother's respect."

It didn't make me feel better but strangely I had a new respect in the eyes of both my peers and the brothers. Them calling me Randall died out a little slowly for my tastes but I got over it. Suddenly, I had texts inviting me to dinner, to hang out. Being a dude is really weird.

Meetings got easier, with Austin actually letting me take my quizzes orally. That makes it sound like I blew him. I didn't. For maybe the first time in my college experience I was pretty happy.

The next party came too soon. My liver was still pissed at me for my hubris when we got a case of Natty- lights dumped at our feet. "Welcome to the Power Hour Gents."

I honestly didn't know what that was. Apparently the game was a shot of beer for every minute for an entire hour. There were other variations that I learned but this one might have been the most irritating. It was nearly impossible to have a conversation with a shot needing to be had every minute. Luckily, the game only turned out to be around 7 standards drinks. Still way too much for me but way less than I had the previous week.

I was back in that fun zone. The fun zone without the puking. No puking, no inhibitions. Also apparently no shirt, but who could tell when that got lost in the mix. All of a sudden, I was on the dance floor in just my jeans. A crush of women around me. Here's the thing: I wasn't the hottest guy out there by a landslide. I'm pretty short and my muscle tone really exists in my forearms and fingers (and my brain). But I danced. It's always pissed me off that most men at parties won't even try to dance. I in no way was good at dancing but I was having fun and thus the girls were all over it.

Drunk girls are both my best friends and my nemeses. A pair of lips found my neck, even drunken I was uncomfortable. I didn't want to do the whole drunken make-out thing with some girl. Might be some people's thing, definitely not mine.

I extricated myself from the limbs and the lips, going in search of one of my pledge brothers so maybe we could play a game of pong.

In the kitchen on the third floor I find Drew, Austin and Ian refilling a jungle juice container. Well, Drew was more watching with his arms casually slung around a girl's waist.

Drew spotted me first, "Artie! Come meet my girlfriend Emily."

Emily was lovely and they made a really hot couple. Drew had all his deep skin while she was a porcelain doll. She only started to piss me off when she noted really loudly, "Wow, your neck."

Drew started laughing as well, a loud unrestrained, booze-filled sound. "Shit. She got you good."

Ian and Austin were paying attention as I tried to crane my neck around. Austin helpfully piped up, "You have a bunch of lipstick and a few hickies. All the other pledges are going to be jealous."

Ian's eyes widened for a moment but he didn't say anything just resumed pouring vodka into the mix.

Ian stirred in the vodka to the juice and other mixers. There really was no telling what went into it. "Can I have a cup?" I asked.

"Sure, as long as you don't puke. Where'd your shirt go?" Ian said, looking down at my chest. I could feel a flush start at my collarbones. Ian looking at my body was strange but exciting.

"No idea."

"I'm sure those horny girls probably took it as a souvenir."

"Yeah, I like the dancing but the rest wasn't really my scene."

"Oh, I know." Ian smiled at me. We were both leaning against the counter, our hips almost touching. "You want me to get the lipstick off you?"

"I mean I can get—"

Ian had a wet towel against my neck, slowly rubbing away the shiny pink aberration. His thumb pressed against the hickie, already sore to the touch but my body inexplicably hardened.

I twisted my body away, anxious that he didn't see. "It's fine, Artie. Don't worry about it." Of course he had seen, an awful flush suffused my body, my cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. I turned to run away but his fingers latched on to my jeans. "Come on Artie, communicate. Why are you so embarrassed?"

Was he actually kidding? "I just popped a boner because you're touching me. Of course I want to bury myself right now." My accent was coming out stronger as my wanting to die and my drunkenness conflated.

His fingers splayed a little bit, "See communication is key. Let's go upstairs okay?"

If anything I was just more embarrassed, once again Ian was going to talk me down. Mutely, I followed him to his room, the same one I had taken over the week before.

He closed the door behind him and I opened my mouth to explain that it wasn't him. It was just the situation and the drunkenness. I didn't get a chance.

I wasn't a shrinking virgin. I've been around the block once or twice. But I gasped when Ian's lips found mine and then somehow I became the girls who had been dancing on me. I was ravenous for it, for him. I didn't know I was allowed to lust over him. I had been but this hadn't even been in my realm of possibilities.

I melted into his warmth, his arms coming around me pressing me into the flat planes of his chest. His lips were soft but pressing, insistent, and I was more than okay with him getting his way. The first swipe of his tongue set me on fire. He didn't tell me to stop as my hands roved around his body grasping at his back pulling us closer together.

He was moving us. He lifted me and pressed me slowly down onto his bed. It wasn't the first time I had been there but the circumstances were worlds away. He followed me down, but his lips left mine. "That girl left some pretty weak hickies on you. Let's improve them."