Ditching Greek | editing

05| Promise

I inched closer to Gideon. "I didn't know you went here."

He scoffed. "Figures. You were always bad at noticing details."

I blinked at him. What did he mean by that? If anything, I thought I noticed the little things more than anyone else. To the insignificant factors to the large tell-tale signs, I saw it all...right? 

"Well it nice to see you, too." I tucked a strand of my curly hair behind my ear and dropped my gaze down to the floor. Taking one step at a time, I brushed past him. He grabbed onto my shoulder, tugging me closer to him. Startled at the sudden contact, I pushed him off, but he wouldn't budge.

"You shouldn't have gone to that game," he huffed under his breath, so low that I wasn't sure if I had heard him correct at first. Once it finally registered, I locked my eyes with him. "You shouldn't haven't done a lot of things last night, but going to that rooftop game was probably the worst choice."

My voice came out in uneven waves, timid and feebly. "W-why do you say that?"

"Those kinds of games are closed to the general public," he said. "There's no actual rule against bringing your friends, but it's an unspoken rule." His grip around the crook of my elbow loosened. "Promise me something."

"Why the hell would I promise you—of all people—anything. I owe you nothing."

Gideon rolled his eyes. "Still as stubborn as I remember." He chuckled. "Just promise to never come to the Houses Off the Hill ever again."

I wiggled my arm away from him, finally getting myself free. "Oh, believe me. I have no interest in ever coming back here or even going to one of your brutal games again."

Hazel was at the end of the hall, waiting for me. "What was that about?" she asked when I got to her side.

"Nothing you'd want to hear about," I replied.

"I actually would like to hear what it was about. Why were you talking to Gideon?"

"You know him?" I was shocked that she knew his name. Shaking my head, I stopped her before she could answer that question. I needed to change the topic as soon as possible. "Never mind, it doesn't matter how you know him. It's not important. What is in important though is figuring out how we're getting out of here. How are we getting home?"

"Oh, Clyde said he called us a ride. It's covered. A cab should be coming any minute."

We hurried down the staircase and found Monica, pacing nervously around the front porch. The wrinkles on her forehead dissolved when she saw us walk out of the XIX House. "Damn, why the hell were you guys in there for so long?!"

Hazel pointing her thumb over at me. "You can blame her. She was chitchatting with Gideon."

"Gideon Okafor?" she yelped, narrowing her eyes at me while we walked toward onto the gravel driveway. "You hate him."

"No, you hate him," I corrected her.

"Which means you hate him just as much as I do," she went on, "It's like Girl Law. Right on clause five, third appendix."

We chuckled a little too loud, causing a House across from us to open their window and scold over at us. I turned to Hazel. "Do you hate him?"

"I don't even know him like you two do. I've just seen him around the sorority houses a few times," she stated, linking her arm with mine, and glanced down at the screen of her phone. "Ugh. It's noon already."

Monica darted her eyes up and down the street. "Where the hell is that taxi?"

At that very moment, a black Mercedes cruised its way into the driveway and stopped before us. A man in his mid-thirties bounced out of the car and tipped his hat at us. "Which one of you ladies is Ms. Nabela Osmani?"

My voice cracked, "Me."

He gestured to the vehicle, "I was informed by my boss that you needed a drive to your apartment. Now if you could please—"

"I'm not going anywhere without my friends," I interrupted.

"Oh, of course not." He nodded several times. Cautiously, we all piled into the car and buckled in. Monica, for once, was silent the entire ride. Whereas Hazel wouldn't stop babbling.

"I thought we asked for a cab," she grumbled under her breath. "What did you do to Clyde to make him want to impress you? He knows you have a boyfriend, right?"

"Brandon didn't really come up in to the conversation this morning," I responded in an equally irritated voice. Why was he doing all of this? I hardly knew him. And I was planning on keeping it that way. He didn't intrigued me as much as I interested him. I was still sour with how he brought up my father and his riches. It rubbed me the wrong way. 

"That reminds me, do you have my phone?" I questioned.

Hazel fished out my phone from her back pocket and handed it to me. I unlocked the screen. Two new texts and missed call from Brandon. With a smile on my face I called him back. He answered on the very first ring.

"Hey, sleepy head," he sung. "I was getting worried. Did you sleep in?"

"Yeah. I kinda had a rough night," I answered bluntly. "And came home pretty late so I needed to catch up with sleep."

"Oh, where did you go last night?"

I hesitated. "Eh. Just out with the girls."

He chortled. "You can tell me. I won't be mad."

"It was Greek related." I wanted to leave it at that. "I went with Hazel and Monica."

"That's good that you guys got to hang out and you didn't just stay crammed in your room all night."

"Where did you go last night?" I asked rapidly. I wanted to shift the topic off of me. "You left our Skype date pretty quick."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he sighed. "Trey unplugged the computer and they forced me out of the house and into a bar not too far from our place." He chuckled to himself. "Fucking lunatics."

"We're not lunatics!" Someone screamed in the background. Was it just me was did they sound like a female?

"Who's that?"

"Sorry about that," Brandon said, "It was Claire."

"Who's...Claire?" I asked slowly and my heart leaped into my throat.

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