In Too Deep by Michelle Kemper Brownlow Page B

could do my mental “beauty queen wave” again. I think Stacy had her own wave, too, which made me smile.
    We waited in line for a good twenty minutes when Noah finally answered his cell phone.
    “Yo.”
    “Noah. Stacy and I are waiting at the end of the line. The line that’s not moving.”
    “Well, I’m a little tied up at the moment, Gracie.” My name came through the phone with a sarcastic sting.
    “Come on, you always come get us. It will only take you a second, please?”
    “You’re starting to whine. I’m hanging up now.”
    “Noah!”
    “I’m just kidding. God, Gracie. Relax!”
    Stacy and I stood and watched at least five other brothers come out and get their girlfriends before we saw Noah walking our way, smiling at a couple giggly freshmen on his way past. I was ready to explode. If I had remembered it was “Casino Night” I would have made sure Stacy and I were there even earlier and then I wouldn’t have had to call him.
    Calm down. Calm down. This is going to be the night he starts to remember how lucky he is to have you. Being a nag won’t secure that for you.
    My little pep talk lifted my spirits. It was a silly thing to be so upset over, especially when you compared it to cheating. I imagined I was waving at all the girls gawking at my hot boyfriend, wondering why we got to cut the line.
    Because I sleep with him, honey. I’m the lucky one. Enjoy the line.
    His sexy smirk came back as we entered the house. I beamed.
    “What are you wearing?” Noah asked with a loud chuckle, announcing to the entire lobby of party-goers that his girlfriend was a dork. I wanted to die. I opened my mouth to respond, with what, I don’t know, when he turned to one of the pledges and said, “Can you get “Janis Joplin” and her friend some beers?”
    He threw an “I’ll be right back,” over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.
    I felt like an idiot. I looked stupid. My newly cut bangs came with issues of not knowing what to do with them, so I thought the wide headband would solve the issue and suit my outfit, too. Apparently not.
    I turned to Stacy who had not heard a thing because she was ogling the brothers like she was at a fraternity-boy buffet. She had detailed daydreams of getting her hands on any one of the beautiful boys in front of her. I felt bad for Greg. She’d never cheat, but the way she gawked and what I knew went through her mind was borderline infidelity.
    She winked at me and mouthed, “Go find Noah” as she skipped off with Hank, the senior who held the “drive-thru” record in the house. I would have to text her not to leave the dance floor with him. I only knew about Hank’s “accomplishment” because, along with the perks of being a brother’s girlfriend, comes knowledge of things about the brothers that make you want to clean out your ears with bleach. At Sigma Chi, “drive thru” basically meant his room was like a fast-food place and, unbeknownst to the girls who went in, they were just holding a spot in the drive-thru lane. I think his record was twelve. Some of them were “happy meal” orders, meaning more than one girl at a time. Disgusting.
    Thinking about Hank’s room was only a temporary reprieve from my embarrassment about the “Janis Joplin” comment. Sometimes when Noah was drunk, he would get flustered at house parties like he was the mayor and had to make sure everyone was having a good time. This didn’t bother me until he got out of my line of vision, which he was at that moment. When three of the brothers strolled by looking me up and down and nodding with approval, I decided to swallow my insecurity about my outfit and make the best of the night. Doing that meant having Noah by my side.
    I found him downstairs doing shots at the bar. It was a lot cooler in the basement so I was glad to find him there. I walked up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist and laid my head against his back. He was sweaty, but he smelled so good. He