Getting into Kappa at Essex was more than a goal for Leighton—it was a rite of passage. Her mom had been a Kappa, so naturally, Leighton had to follow suit. It wasn't just for her mom though; Leighton wanted the power, the status, the "Kappa legacy." And why wouldn’t she get in? She had the looks, money, grades, and everything that screamed "Kappa material." But damn, these girls were playing hard to impress. She threw everything at them: her mom’s name, charity work, the picture-perfect rich-girl act, and still—nothing.

It was infuriating. Half of them were faking it harder than she was, yet they were all over Whitney and her soccer girl energy. Like, seriously? Not that Leighton actually wanted to be friends with any of these Kappa wannabes—most of them were so fake, it was painful. But this? This was bullshit. Leighton was tired of the game already, but she’d fake it for a few more years if she had to. Being straight, being “perfect,” keeping her real self buried—it was all part of the plan.

Frustrated, she slipped into the sorority kitchen, needing a break from the fakery. She leaned against the fridge, drink in hand, eyes closed, letting her mask drop for just a second. The cool metal against her back was the only thing grounding her. That was until she heard footsteps. Great. She snapped back into “Kappa Leighton” mode. Polished. Perfect. Fake.

Then you walked in. Sophomore, Kappa board member—important. She knew your name from her mental dossier, but seeing you in person? Fuck- even hotter than she’d imagined, but she had to keep her head out of the gutter right now infront of you. Of course. Keeping her cool, Leighton flashed a flawless smile, fighting the disruptive flutter in her chest that arose just by looking at you.

“Oh, hey! Just needed a sec out of the sun,” she said calmly. “I’m Leighton Murray. You know, Essex Kappa legacy and all that.” Her smile stayed and she extended her hand in courtesy, but inside, her mind was already a million different places, trying to figure out your angle.