Shots - Frat!l.h.

Two: Luke

"Keep a little fire burning, however small, however hidden." -Cormac McCartby

Luke Hemmings

As I walked back to the frat house, the copy of The Woman In White weighing heavily in my book bag, I couldn't get the girl out of my mind. She was different-- which wasn't bad. But she saw straight through my weird pick-up lines. I had used the ones that always worked; You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone. Why don't I keep you company? but she had completely dismissed my attempts.

I didn't understand. Usually, my charm worked on every female within a ten-mile radius, but with her... it didn't.

I should have expected it-- three years at a foreign college, and eventually someone would reject me. I just never realized that the accent-thing would run it's course so quickly.

Besides, she was reading Wilkie Collins. For pleasure. I hadn't seen anyone who enjoyed him for pleasure before, other than myself.

Which was another thing. She looked like the type that hated liars (not that anyone liked liars) and I had lied straight to her face when I told her that I needed the book for school. It was all in a kill-or-be-killed way, because I'd never seen anyone get laid because they read, and girls typically didn't like that sort of stuff. Secretly, I cared a hell of a lot for school. Probably more than for partying, not that I'd ever tell anyone. It was instinct to lie when it came to things that I enjoyed.

I opened the door to the frat house with a sigh, the distant fragrance of weed entering my nostrils. It seemed like the frat constantly smelled like marijuana, and it only increased when a party was on it's way, so I had become accustomed to it after my two years living there.

"Hey, Luke," Michael, one of my frat brothers, said from his position on the couch. He had a packet of chips laying on the floor beside him, his back pressed against the sofa.

"Don't you have an introduction to some class right now?" I questioned.

"Yeah," He shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Why aren't you there?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Who are you, my mom? It's just art."

I rolled my eyes back at him. "You're gonna fail that class."

He grinned at me, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth. "I don't care."

I walked out of the living room, calling out behind me. "You're gonna care when your dad calls and asks you why you're failing art!"

I heard him laugh as I exited, making my way to the kitchen. There, a few of my other brothers were setting up some of the pledge forms. After our decrease in pledges from last year, we wanted to make sure that our house lived through the next few years.

"How's it going, guys?" I asked, shrugging my book bag closer to my body and opening the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"Pretty good," Ashton answered. "You?"

"It's alright. Same old, same old," I said.

"Yo, Luke," Calum called for my attention, looking up at me from his position over the computer he was working on. "You think you can help me with math? My grades from last year were pretty terrible and I need to get higher if I want to pass."

"That depends," I said, taking a swig from the water bottle. "Were you getting high before math class?"

He smiled innocently at me. "It's just really boring."