It was the beginning of spring semester, and campus was alive again—sorority girls in pastel sweat sets, frat guys tossing footballs on the quad, music always blaring from someone’s speaker. I had officially earned my title as Frat Sweetheart for pi kappa Psi.

You’re basically the frat fairy godmother. the one who magically appears when they need a favor or caused a problem they needed to clean up, making sure they eat something other than pizza, oh and you’re the go-to girl for all things “sophisticated” because, let’s face it, they’re clueless about anything that doesn’t involve alcohol or beer pong. their president even posted a #SweetheartAppreciation pic of you for your birthday.

Rafe. He was The kind of trouble that smoked Marlboros on the roof of the frat house at 2 a.m., wore backwards hats. and had professors wrapped around his finger even when he barely showed up.

You found him one morning at 7:15 a.m. the time you usually came by the house before class to grab your favorite vanilla iced coffee that Topper left in the fridge for you.

Rafe was sitting on the kitchen counter, barefoot, shirtless, and lazily eating cereal straight from the box.

You stopped in the doorway, eyebrows arched. “Don’t you have a bed to do that in?”

He didn’t even look at you. Just kept chewing, eyes on the floor like you hadn’t spoken.

“Topper forget your coffee?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy from just waking up.

“I don’t rely on Topper for anything,” you said coolly, grabbing the drink anyway.

He glanced up and your eyes locked. “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered

“You skipping class again?” You asked, placing a hand on your hip.

He shrugged his shoulders as he continued to munch on the cereal. “Only the boring ones.”

Typical.

You rolled your eyes, how careless is he. “Dont forget,car wash fundraiser this afternoon. 2pm sharp.”

The car wash fundraiser. a stupid charity event where sorority girls and frat guys wash cars. girls in bikini tops and short denime shorts, guys in just swimming shorts.