“You’re in luck, because it’s Rush Week right now,” Oliver says as we move into what seems to be the main quad. It’s full of tables and booths all advertising different sororities and fraternities. “Every Greek organization affiliated with Wayne State will have representatives here. We’ll just start at one end and work our way around the quad.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Oliver smiles, lighting up his whole face. When he offers me a hand to hold, as if this were a date, I grimace and shake my head. “Sorry. I’ve got a no touching policy. Unless you want me to hear every thought in your head.”
Oliver’s face heats up, and he matches my grimace. “Oh, right. I forgot about that.”
I try to smile, but the mood has slipped into awkward territory. Surprisingly, Oliver is the one to drive us back into comfortable conversation. “You can’t turn your gift off, then?”
I shake my head, grateful that I have to be paying attention to all of the booth banners so I don’t have to maintain eye contact. “I wish. That would make my life a hell of a lot easier.”
“What about clothes? Does it work through material, or do long sleeves, gloves, and things stop it?”
“Mostly. But I hate gloves. I hate having my fingers restricted, and I really don’t like to draw attention to myself any more than I have to. It’s bad enough I’m a small white girl living in inner city Detroit.”
Oliver sighs. “That’s true. I guess I don’t blame you. But…don’t you ever crave human touch?”
No way am I answering that question. I stop to look loosely at a yellow banner advertising a fraternity.
“That it?” Oliver asks, following my gaze when I stop walking.
After a moment, I shake my head. “I think it looks similar, but the symbols were different. I’m sure of it.”
Oliver heads over to the booth. It’s being manned by a couple of tall, well-built guys—one white and one black. Both look like basketball players. They’re leaner than the meatheads from my vision, and they seem like they’re slightly more intelligent, even though all the pictures at their booth are of raging parties.
They both eye skinny, geeky Oliver warily. “Hey, bro. You looking to join up?” the black guy asks.
He’s good looking, but his condescension toward Oliver pisses me off. As if he can feel me seething, he looks my way and then does a double take before grinning widely at Oliver. “Damn, man, your girl is fine.”
I know Oliver is about to correct his assumption that I’m his girlfriend, so I jump into the conversation before that can happen. “Thanks.”
The white guy joins the conversation, grinning widely at me. “Hey, beautiful, whatcha doin’ with this joker?”
My jaw drops. Are these guys for real? At least Oliver doesn’t seem to care about this guy’s low opinion. He slides me a sideways glance and gives me an eye roll that makes me smirk. I move close to Oliver and slip my arm around his waist. He glances curiously at me but follows my lead, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He’s so considerate that he’s careful to only touch my sleeve. “Haven’t you boys heard the news?” I ask. “Geeks are totally in now. And I’ll have you know that not only is my man brilliant, fun, and a god between the sheets, he’s powerful, too.”
Both guys’ mouths fall open, and their eyebrows climb up their foreheads. I shoot them a smug smirk and lean in closer to Oliver. “Oh, yeah. He’s got his own brand of self-defense. He could kick both your asses to defend me—kill you if he had to.”
I give Oliver a knowing wink. He had come to my defense before, and maybe he doesn’t use his magic anymore, but I have no doubt he would if my life were in question. My praise makes him squeeze my shoulders. “And it’s a good thing, too,” he teases me, “as much as you find trouble.”
“Very true.” I chuckle. Oliver is kind of hot when he’s being assertive. Maybe I misread him before. Maybe he’s not shy like I thought, but just introverted.
Both frat boys get over their shock and laugh along with us. They’re eyeing Oliver differently now, with curiosity and respect. “Okay, okay, shorty,” the first guy says to me. “We get you. No offense meant. So…” He turns his attention back to Oliver. “You looking to pledge?”
I give Oliver a questioning look that he snorts at. It makes me laugh. Man, this having a friend thing is awesome. “Actually,” I say, and Oliver happily lets me answer for him, “we were looking for a specific fraternity. I thought maybe it was you guys, but I can see now it’s not. Do you guys know of another house that has a logo similar to yours? Same yellow color, but the symbols were different. Loopier somehow.”
The white guy scoffs, and the black guy glares at nothing in particular. “Are you talking about those punk-ass poser bitches?” he asks.
I perk up at this. “So you do know them?”
The white guy shakes his head. “Those jokers made up their own house and walk around like they’re all legit, but they aren’t even Greek.”
“Girl, you don’t want nothing to do with them. They ain’t right. More like a cult than a frat, and they get rough.”
“I’ve heard their parties get weird. Real freaks, you know?”
“Yeah.” I nod at Oliver. “That sounds like our assholes.”
He returns my nod, then looks at both our new friends, sighing. “That’s them, all right. Do you know where their house is?”
“Do we ever,” the first guy says. “Those mutha truckers moved into a house down the street from us and then stole our design. They steal half our crowds whenever we throw parties, and they’ve scared off a lot of people from wanting to join us.” His face turns grave, and he lowers his voice as he pins both Oliver and me with a sincere gaze. “Seriously, you guys should stay away from them. You seem like good people. I’m sure you can take care of yourselves, but those freaks are dangerous. Everybody hates them, but nobody messes with them for a reason.”
“We’re having a party this weekend, though,” the other guy says. “You should both come.” He hands us flyers advertising their frat house and the party hours. The house address is conveniently written along the bottom of the paper. “And hey, bro…” He holds his hand out to Oliver. “If you’re interested in pledging, let us know. We’ll introduce you to the other guys and let them know you’re cool.”
I can see the smile Oliver is trying to hide as he shakes the guy’s hand. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for the info on those other guys. We’ll make sure to steer clear.”
“Steer yourselves to our place. Friday night. It’s gonna be awesome.”
“We will, man, thanks.”
With a casual nod, Oliver leads me away toward the next booth. “Huh,” he says once we’re out of earshot. “So this is what it feels like to be one of the cool kids.”
A laugh bursts from me that makes Oliver chuckle. I nudge his shoulder with mine as we walk. “Don’t let it go to your head, Ollie. I happen to like you just how you are.”
Oliver shrugs his shoulders and smiles at the ground as we walk. “Thanks,” he mutters, nudging me back the way I’d bumped him. Then he clears his throat and changes the subject. “So I take it we’re on our way to the punk-ass poser bitches’ house?”
I grin. “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna go all Nora Jacobs psycho psychic chick on those mutha truckers.”
. . . . .
The GPS in Terrance’s fancy car takes us right to the frat house. From there, our guys aren’t hard to find. For one thing, a very familiar yellow hooptie of a car is parked on the street out front. And for another, the entire house has been painted a pale yellow exactly like the frat house. No wonder our new friends at the booth were so bitter. They say copycatting is a form of flattery, but it’s still annoying. “Bingo. That’s our car.”
Oliver follows my gaze and snorts. “Nice ride.”
“You should see the tool who drives it. Come on. Be my lookout while I do my thing. When I get sucked into visions, I can’t pull myself out.”