ee didn't text Roland more than a few times the rest of that day and the next before the party. He didn't mind it—in fact, his ego was just thrilled that the quarterback even swiped right on him. That was really all there was to it (and also, maybe, quite possibly the fact that he had also fantasized about the quarterback annihilating his head with his thighs).

Rushil once again joined Lee at Manley Hall and snuck into the dorm tower with every intent of sitting on Lee's futon and watching the show unravel. When Rushil came to Lee's door, he found the door propped open with a wooden wedge and the sound of Ezra's voice booming from in the room.

"You can't wear a leather jacket to a frat party! You'll get too hot, take it off, and someone will steal it!" Ezra shouted.

"But it looks good," Lee insisted. The leather jacket was flattering on him, and as he turned to check himself out in the floor length mirror Ezra brought, he found Rushil staring at them from the threshold. Rushil was wearing a plain black polo and light grey skinny jeans. The real star of his outfit, however, happened to be a pair of killer sneakers.

Lee looked him up and down and whistled.

Ezra said, "Damn, looking good, kid."

Rushil's cheeks colored pink. "Thanks, man," he said, smiling shyly. He turned to Lee and said, "You ready?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Ezra shouted, startling both of them. He pointed at Lee's brown, ankle-high shoes. "If this man is wearing brown shoes, he cannot wear a black leather jacket. Right?!"

"I-I guess, I don't... really know," Rushil confessed.

Ezra turned to Lee for a translation. "He's straight," Lee said.

Ezra blinked in alarm. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose as he said, "Wait, you befriend straight guys?"

Lee groaned and went back to his closet. He put the leather jacket back and pulled out a light black sweatshirt and said, "Okay, then what about this?"

"Yes."

"It's also black!" Lee shouted.

"It's not shiny, though!" Ezra insisted. Lee groaned again and started yanking off his shirt and swapping it with the sweatshirt. He was wearing a pair of loose, dark grey pants that rolled up at the hems, showing off a sliver of his purple socks.

Rushil pointed to them and said, "Nice touch."

"Thanks," Lee said, turning his heel to the side to put them on display. He put his arms out in a gesture to Ezra and said, "We good?"

Ezra gave him one last once-over before holding up a thumbs up. "Yes, good."

Ezra carted his mirror back out into the hallway as Lee shut off the light in his room and ushered Rushil out. He locked the door and slipped the keycard into the zipper pocket on the waistband of his pants.

Ezra wished them the best as they stepped into the elevator. Rushil waved until the doors shut at which point Rushil turned to Lee and said in a dull, vaguely angry voice, "What the Hell did you do."

Lee pretended to busy himself by rolling up the sleeves on his sweatshirt as he said in a sweet voice, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You just like to stir shit up, don't you? Poke a stick around in it, slosh it around in your mouth a little."

"Bullshit tastes like candy sometimes," Lee confessed with a diabolical smile. "It's oh-so sweet tonight. I can taste it already."

Rushil looked up at the floor numbers diminishing on the screen as he shook his head, saying, "I can't believe I'm best friends with a sociopath."

Lee snickered. "I have empathy—most days." But that night, he was ready to screw around and, as Rushil put it, stir the shit pot. His ingredients: A healthy dose of Roland Ball and a surplus of feeding Milo Park his own medicine.

20:45 We're pre-gaming if you and Rushi Roll wanna join

21:22 Sorry just saw this

21:32 Enroute to Sigma Alpha

21:40 Be my first dance partner? 😘

21:42 Wouldn't have it any other way 😎

______

19:30 🏈🤼‍♂️ is typing...

19:32 Are you really coming to the party tonight? I didn't think you were into it

20:35 Read ✔︎

20:46 I'm worried D: Leeeeee

20:57 Read ✔︎

20:58 STOP LEAVING ME ON READ D:

21:01 Read ✔︎

21:22 O Sorry just saw this

21:22 😡

21:23 You're gonna get it 😤

21:26 Get what? 😘

21:27 You gonna spank me for being naughty?

21:28 😳🤭

21:55 Hot wax, perhaps?

22:01 Park?

22:10 Comin' in hot (and sexy as hell) 🥳

______

Lee was already at Sigma by the time he texted Park that he was arriving soon. In fact, he was already on the dance floor, hips bouncing to the rhythm of his heels tapping on the tiles, hands clapping and raising over his head with the lights flashing over him and the circle of onlookers cheering him on.

He rocked his hips with sharp, measured jerks that made his flat ass look at least a little flattering. Given the whistles and the chants, he had to have been doing a good job. He popped his knees in and straightened up, heels clicking together before he bounced to the beat and summoned the circle to close in once again.

His ass rocked back against Roland Ball, who had his hands back on Lee's hips as he laughed and shouted, "Fuck! You've got moves, dude!"

The instrumentals took a low, quick beat that rocked them back and forth, Lee half-turned towards Roland so he could shout, "I've been going to house parties since I was a freshmen in high school!" It was when Sen was accepted into USFC Law and started his own party phase. House parties were different, though. The ones Sen went to often ended in low-key vibes and a drugged haze.

Frat parties, though? They were all high-strung, unadulterated energy.

Roland laughed in his ear as they swayed low and rocked back up. Lee liked it because he was the one setting the pace, not Roland, and it gave him a power high.

A girl stopped them with a hand tapping on Roland's arm. Roland nodded to her and touched her on the shoulder—a promise for the next dance. Lee turned around to face Roland, his foot slotted between Roland's braced sneakers and straddling his knee as they rolled their hips to the side and back again. As they went, Roland said over the music, "I was surprised when you messaged me!"

Lee rolled his eyes and said, "Park set up my profile. I don't think he realized what that meant at all until your profile came up."

Roland threw his head back and laughed. "I still don't think he fully grasps the concept of Tinder. Almost regret showing it to him, you know?"

Lee tipped his head curiously to the side. Roland asked if Milo mentioned that, and Lee said, "Sort of. I thought you endorsed it!"

Roland shrugged a little. Their hips rubbed together, the friction burning in Lee's muscles like hot water trickling down his spine. He shivered at the touch of Roland's hand against his lower back. He leant in close to say in Lee's ear, "Is it just me, or is this an intervention?"

Lee leant back, surprised. Roland smiled at him and said, "I don't mind it, just figured I'd ask before asking if you wanna take this upstairs."

Heat flushed to Lee's face, flooding his skin bright red. Thankfully, with all of the flashing lights, there was no way for Roland to know that. "Y-yeah, it's an intervention," he confessed with a grimace. "Sorry for dragging you into it."

"No apology necessary," Roland said. "You can't apologize for an ass that moves like that, you know."

"I know, but—" Lee started, biting his lip. He sighed and said, "I do think you're date material. I was sincere about it when I messaged you."

"Asking about my tattoo?" Roland laughed.

Lee could barely contain his giggle as he nodded. "Yeah, asking about your tattoo. Which, by the way, I was very impressed by. That is the most badass prison tattoo I've ever seen."

Roland burst out laughing so hard they stopped dancing. Lee let out a startled laugh when Roland grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "God, you kill me. Have you gotten something to drink yet?"

Lee shook his head, at which point Roland took him by the hand and paved the way through the crowd. People parted for them and Lee felt famous just existing near Roland. They were stopped more than once and Roland introduced him to people Lee likely would never see again. When the clock ticked closer to ten, they managed to escape to the outskirts of the crowds and hurry up to Roland's room for the bottle of Malibu.

Lee felt odd already being familiar with the place. He said nothing about it, though, as he stood near the threshold while Roland fetched the Malibu bottle from under his bed along with a case of Coke. Just as Roland was cracking open a can, a loud knock sounded behind Lee.

Lee jumped, cursing under his breath as he turned and came face-to-face with a set of hulking pectorals. Lee put his hands out as if to stop them from colliding with his face. He dragged his eyes up to the broad smile of the linebacker, Simon.

"Who's this squirt?" Simon said, pointing at Lee.

"Ah, Milo's toy," Roland said.

"Wow, subtle," Lee droned, turning back around with a flat stare.

"Well, Milo's Toy," Simon said. Lee audibly sighed, shoulders slumping as he turned back around. Simon held out a hand, so Lee clasped onto it. "Welcome to Sigma Alpha. I think the runt's in the basement."

"Thanks, but I'm in the middle of an undercover operation," Lee said. Simon raised an eyebrow at him and reached a hand up to scratch at his thick, black cornrows.

Simon pointed at him again and said, "Is he serious?"

"Very... serious..." Roland said as he poured a hefty amount of Malibu into Lee's drink. He held the solo cup out to Lee, who took it and took a sip. There was nothing subtle about the alcohol.

Lee gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks Roland," he said.

Simon pointed to his cup and said, "Hey, why don't you have a Whiteclaw? I've got a pack of 'em."

"That shit's made of pure testosterone, right?" Lee said, and Simon threw his head back with a laugh. Lee grinned and leaned in as he said, "Sorry, I don't drink testosterone—I only suck it."

Simon's jaw dropped and he looked at Roland, who whistled low and saluted Lee. Simon pointed to Lee and said, "Did you hear this little bastard?"

"He's gonna fuck my boy Milo up," Roland said.

Lee laughed as Simon said, "I didn't know we were plotting to get Milo laid. I didn't know he was into guys?"

"Dude, your gaydar is nonexistent," Roland said, and as Simon argued against it, Lee slipped out of the room and down the hall.

He pulled out his phone to text Milo. He waited at the top of the stairs for a response and when he received none, he left another breadcrumb trail for Milo to pick up on, but he wasn't catching it. Lee sighed against the rim of his solo cup.

Might as well just let him know I'm here, he thought.

He could feel the music pulsing through the floorboards two stories up. It vibrated against the soles of his feet and drummed with his heartbeat in his chest. He watched as people came and went up the steps before finish off his solo cup. By then, Roland and Simon were on their way elsewhere, so Lee snuck into Roland's room once more to pour his own drink. The soda and alcohol were still out, so he poured a can of Coke in and topped it off with Malibu.

He made sure to close the door behind him before hurrying to the stairs. He paused at the second floor to sip his drink, his back to the wall across the balcony. The balcony railing was claimed by onlookers, but Lee could still see the party between their silhouetted figures against the colored lights swirling across the room and sending glittered spots across the vaulted ceiling.

Lee sipped his drink idly and texted Rushil to make sure the guy was still alive and well. The response had him grinning. "Are YOU still alive?!"

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he tapped in his response and sent it off. He grinned as he pocketed his phone and walked down the length of the railings. He leant against the wall blocking him from the main view from below. It was just enough for him to scan without being seen. He could see Roland and Simon in the thick of things, close to the speakers at the front where the DJ was, accompanying some girls who were standing on the floor speakers and shaking their asses.

And then, he could see Park at the archway near the basement stairs. Arms crossed, brooding—as if Park was even capable of brooding—looking disinterested in the party.

Lee could feel the first cup buzzing in his skull. He finished off the majority of his second cup before twisting around and heading down the stairs that deposited him at the edge of the dance floor. He bounded forward with a half-skip in his step, bouncing into the song with his eyes lingering at the archway where he saw Milo's eyes scanning the crowd.

Lee spun around and flattened his back to the shoulder blades of a beefy-looking athletic guy grinding against a girl bent over and twerking. He waited a few seconds before glancing around the guy to see that Milo's attention had shifted away from his general direction.

Successfully averted.

Lee wove through the crowd like this. He made accidental partners of guys and girls he used as cover. He slipped into a grinding line (not really by accident, but it seemed like fun until he was a part of it) and rocked his way between couples making out in the middle of the dance floor. He dodged spilled cups and spied Rushil near the windowsills talking to red-headed Olivia. Lee hid behind a basketball player as Rushil spied him and waved. He grinned devilishly, and Rushil's wave turned into a middle finger.

And then, Lee was at the speakers.

The song shifted to a bright, upbeat tune as Lee dragged his hand along Roland's back, turning him around with just a grazing touch. Roland leant down and Lee shouted over the music blasting their eardrums into oblivion, "Dance with me!"

"Aye, aye!" Roland said with a laugh, taking Lee by the hand and spinning him around like they were in a goddamn ballet.

Lee dropped to the side in a sweeping motion, his heels bouncing to the preppy guitar solo. Roland—bless his soul—caught the gist of it and went along for the ride as Lee raised his half-empty solo cup up and down the rest of it in two solid gulps.

As he drank, he looked to the empty archway where Milo had been.

Bingo.