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Both times before, I wished I'd a place in my port for my entries...this time I do! |
| Damon had to keep his mind off Beth. That was all there was to it. Hell Week was bad enough without him screwing up worse. And every time he thought about Beth, he screwed up. Just last night as he kneeled for hours, shoulder-to-shoulder with his pledge brothers, the grains of rice scattered on the floor digging into his flesh with a pain reminiscent of a seseme seed wedged between two teeth, he couldn't keep his mind off Beth. The curve of her face swam before his eyes, her musky jasmine perfume seemed always in his nose, and the thought of her toned, sun-tanned legs disappearing beneath a black mini skirt drove his mind to distraction. Not good. Especially during Hell Week. Last night, he'd been roused from his reverie when a Sigma brother had stood before him. The brother pulled a match box from his pocket and shook out a match before sliding the box back into its cardboard sheath. "The Greek alphabet, scab. Five times to this match. Don't burn me." He struck the match; it flared within inches of Damon's nose. Damon shifted and the pain from the rice rippled up his thigh. He sucked in his breath and began as fast as he could. "Alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, zeta, eta, theta, iota..." Around "omicron," Beth's face suddenly flit into the view of his mind's eye. He sparkling emerald eyes were heavy-lidded. She tilted her chin, her glossy lips parted. Damon ached to put his mouth on hers. And he faltered. "Chi" came out before "phi" and he stumbled, stopped, re-started. The brother dropped the match to the floor, stomping out the flame with his sneaker. "Dual!" he shouted, and the other brothers cheered. The next day, they marched the pledges out to the field behind the frat house. Damon wore a ridiculous, ill-fitting powdered wig and he sweat profusely beneath the heavy fabric of the gilded costume he wore. He was ordered in the middle, back to back with another pledge who had screwed up the frat's founding fathers list. Armed with pop guns with "big loser" flags inside, they were about to take their ten paces and shoot when a Sigma brother shouted "Wait!" "Our guests have arrived!" Damon's heart sank. From the woods at the left entered a gaggle of gorgeous girls from the Tri Delt soroity. In the middle of the group, neck craned and looking distressed, walked Beth. |
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