I knew I was f****d the second those two shot glasses slid off the tray and smashed on the floor.
The whole party went dead silent for half a second, then the brothers started laughing and booing. Beer pong night, and I, the new 18-year-old pledge, was supposed to hold a tray of vodka shots steady while the seniors took them off one by one. Easy task, right? Except my hands were shaking like a damn leaf, and two shots ended up all over Ryan Dane’s sneakers.
Ryan. The president. 22 years old, Six-foot-four of pure muscle from lacrosse and the gym, cocky smirk that made every pledge sweat. He just looked at me, raised one eyebrow, and said the words that made my stomach drop straight to my balls.
“Basement,” he said. His voice was calm but final. “Now. All brothers downstairs. Time for th
