#Junkie (GearShark #1)

He moved.

Once in my rightful place at the podium, I made it a point to make eye contact for several seconds with everyone in the room. Some of them were hesitant to look back. I just stared at them until they relented.

I would not be pushed around in this house. Hells no. I would not be pushed around by some angry lower classman that was acting like someone took away his shovel in the sandbox.

“On this day, my loyalty to the Alpha Omega frat of Alpha University has been called into question. The accuser, presidential candidate Conner Nichols, under bylaw three five section one, has called a house meeting.” I glanced back at the turd. “I assume you planned on taking a vote?”

He nodded curtly.

“I’d like to know the evidence you have to support my alleged disloyalty.”

Conner’s face flushed. “You left brothers’ night! It’s a sacred and time-honored tradition.”

“Ah.” I turned my back to him. “This past Friday was brothers’ night. I left. Something came up, and I needed to leave. It was the first brothers’ night I’ve ever missed in my four years at this fraternity.”

Low murmurs went around the table.

Conner took that as a sign he was losing and making himself look like an ass. “That’s not all!” he shot out. “He’s stretched himself way too thin! He puts other people—people who are not members of this house—ahead of his own brothers! As a president, the men in this house should come above ALL others. This weekend was just an example of how you put us second!”

I kept my back turned to Con because I was sure if I looked at him, I’d deck him in the face. “I don’t like the fact my integrity is being called into question here.” The anger in my voice could not be missed. “I’ve spent the better part of two years dedicating myself to this fraternity. I’m the one who built the case against Zach to get him out. I’m the one who made sure there was sufficient evidence to make sure he stayed gone. I spend hours and hours every single week going to meeting after meeting and representing this house in a respectable manner.

“We all know once Zach left, no one wanted to associate with us. The Omega name was sullied. I’m the one who turned that around. I fought to get us invites, to get us to events where people could see us doing good. If you want to question my dedication to this frat, perhaps I should pass around the official logbook. Every single hour I spend on Omega business is documented. If that isn’t enough, I’d be happy to call the dean, on his personal cellphone, and ask him on this fine Sunday morning what he thinks of this bullshit.”

My chest was heaving when I finished talking. Shit. I was pissed.

“Maybe we should call Drew. Ask him how much time you spend with him.” Conner taunted.

Like a frayed string, I snapped. My hands made a sharp sound when I slapped them on the podium and gripped the edges until the wood dug into my hands.

“Just what the fuck are you implying?” I growled.

“That maybe the brothers of this house don’t want to be represented by a fag.”

The earsplitting sound of wood cracking splintered through the room when the podium hit the floor. I spun so fast to face Conner that my vision was actually blurry.

But I could still see enough.

“What did you just say to me?” I bit out.

His eyes widened.

Before he could say anything, I grabbed him up by the front of his shirt and lifted. His feet came up off the ground easily, and he dangled there like an empty pi?ata.

I couldn’t stop myself. I was like a train already derailed.

The sound my fist made plowing into his face gave me nothing but satisfaction. When I let go of his shirt, he sagged to the ground, and I yanked my arm back again.

I was so enraged I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel.

Hurt. Anger. Confusion. Betrayal.

“Whoa!” A few of the upperclassmen who’d been with me since rush restrained me and pulled me back.

Con sat up and pressed his fingers to the gash on his cheekbone. I’d split the skin open with the force of my hit.

The blood was what brought me down off the ledge. The sight of the red stuff oozing out of his face and the look of it on the tips of his fingers.

I didn’t regret it. Like fuck I would.

I wanted—no, I itched—to punch him again. But once could be considered a lack of judgement. Twice would be considered a choice.

“I’m good,” I said to the guys holding me. “I’m straight.”

Reluctantly, they let go but stayed at my sides. I turned to the rest of the men all sitting there and watching with interest.

“It’s clear to me the real traitor in this house is the douche who’s trying to get me cast out secretly. I find it funny he didn’t find fault with my leadership until Friday night when I backed Jack for president, not him.”

Another murmur went around the room.

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