He slides something metal out of his jacket pocket and a moment later, he’s pouring amber liquid from a flask into his fountain soda.
“Jesus, Noah,” I say softly. “It’s Thursday night.”
“And? Rum tastes good on Thursdays, too. My dad’s girlfriend Kolina gave this to me as a gift last week when I visited home. She’s Danish.”
“Rum isn’t exactly a Scandinavian liquor.”
Noah glances at me. “I think my dad is obsessed with her, though.”
“Is this the woman who has the son our age?”
“Unfortunately,” Noah says. “And I fucking hate him.”
I hum. “If your dad marries her, you know what that means.”
“Don’t even say it?—”
“Stepbrother,” I tease Noah. “Hope you’re ready for one.”
Noah gives me a shove and when I look up afterward, I see Sev’s gaze land on the same area, like he’s wishing he was shoving me, instead.
“If that guy ends up being my stepbrother, I’ll put a bullet in both of us,” Noah mumbles.
“What’s his name again?”
“Torin. Torin Jensen. Stupid name. His dad was Irish and his mom is a Danish model, and that’s why my dad is drooling for her.”
“I think that’s kind of a cool name, actually.”
He starts dumping more rum in his drink until I reach out and catch his wrist. “Go easy on yourself. Here.” I shove my tall water in front of him. “You can’t drink that unless you drink this first.”
“Okay, Frat Dad,” he says dryly, but at least he chugs half of the water.
I keep an eye on Noah and catch the conversation that Rayne and Ollie are having about the alumni dinner coming up. The secret societies always treat the event like it’s a Hunger Games level competition, seeing who can win the favor of the richest, most successful alumni and secure jobs and internships.
And ever since I joined Onyx, we’ve won just about everything.
Last year, it was markedly favored to Onyx, though, even more than usual. We’re used to being successful, buteveryavailable position went to someone from Onyx Society.
I’ve heard that Daggers guys have their suspicions that my father may have had something to do with that.
They think my dad pulled strings.
Bribed people.
But I’ve never believed those claims.
I know my father was a horrible man before he died, but I refuse to believe that he had a hand in manipulating that many CEOs last year.
This year we have to be very careful.
Even though the bribery claims are false, we still need to make it right for the other societies this year. Ensure that another war doesn’t start.
“The alumni dinner held in the same hall as the winter formal, right?” Ollie asks.
I nod. “But it looks nothing like the formal. They transform it into a big, glitzy room with white-tablecloth dinner tables and a stage for alumni to give speeches. It ends up looking like the Academy Awards.”
“And people party,” Noah says. “Therightpeople do, at least. I always sneak in a little something.”