Okay, I’d probably still be kind of mad, because I have to get up super early no matter what. It’s part of the perils of having an actual job, but I bet the men next door wouldn’t know anything about that. They’re probably all here on their parents’ money and able to let it run through their fingers like water. I wish I could afford to pay for a school I barely attend. As it is, if I don’t do well in my classes, I’ll lose my scholarship, so I can’t afford to screw off like the rich kids next door.
It’s not that big of a deal though because I’m used to feeling like this. I’ve been poor my whole life. My parents gave me as much as they could for school, but they don’t have a ton of money themselves. Everything they make goes to bills, and even now, they sometimes struggle to make ends meet. I send home money whenever I can because it’s the least I can do. I may not have had much growing up, but I always had my parents’ love.
I grab my phone from the bedside table and check to make sure my alarm is set. I have to be at work by five, so I need to wake up by four-thirty at the latest. God, I am not getting enough sleep. I shoot daggers at the frat house through my curtains. They can’t see, but it makes me feel better at least.
Next door, a girl squeals with excitement. She just asked for a tour of the fraternity, and a man with a low voice is telling her that he’ll show her around. I’m guessing the only thing he’ll be showing her is the inside of his room, and how soft his mattress is.
There are also distinct grunts and groans coming from both the third and fourth stories of the house. This is why I haven’t been able to sleep. I think if it was just random conversations, I’d have no trouble, but listening to other people have sex can be a turn-on sometimes.
Then, another long, melodious moan fills the air. The girl’s gasp mixes with the cacophony of a headboard banging, and then a man’s murmur as he growls in his lover’s ear. I have no idea how many guys live in that house, but they’re all doing well in the sex arena, that’s for sure.
I wonder if they know I can hear them. The people living in the other bedrooms of my house are college students too, but I never hear any of them having sex. Then again, the frat boys probably don’t even care. They’re probably proud of the debauchery that goes on over there.
I pull my pillow over my ears but it doesn’t help. How long can these people go at it? This has been happening since I moved in, so I know from experience these noises are going to drive me nuts all night. These men have crazy stamina, I guess in part because they’re young, virile, and healthy. Then again, I wouldn’t know because I haven’t been with even one guy in my entire life. God, I’m going to die alone, tormented in my spinster’s bed.
Then I bolt upright in a rage. What the hell! I’m half tempted to go over there and give them a piece of my mind. But then, I slump back down again. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the courage. I’m just a coward.
I squeeze my eyes shut to try and sleep but all I can picture are the bodies to go along with the moans I’m hearing. Hard, naked bodies, filled with testosterone. Bronzed skin, with six pack abs and enormous tools between those muscular thighs. I squirm in my bed. Oh my god, this is so wrong!
But I’ve seen the guys from Delta Tau Tau, and what I envision in my head is true. The frat is known for its athletic and good-looking members. I don’t think they can legally have an attractiveness requirement during recruiting, but somehow, they ended up with all the tall, hot men at Remington College.
Then again, I’ve never spoken to a single guy in DTT. Well, aside from the casual “hi” in passing if we see each other on the sidewalk. If I tried to say anything more, I just know it’d come out as gibberish because I’ve never been good at talking to hot guys. I always end up sweaty and red-faced, with my armpits feeling damp.
A tall figure forms in my mind. There’s this guy in the frat, Mike, who I’ve seen a couple times. He’s got to be about six foot four and his hair is black and swept off his forehead. His piercing blue eyes stop me in my tracks every time I see him, and he’s got the most amazing body. I wonder if he’s a varsity athlete. It would explain the sports bag I see him carrying sometimes.
Then, there’s another DTT brother, Brent. Last winter, I saw him outside chopping wood and I thought I was going to die. I get it: this is Vermont, so people actually chop wood, but still, Brent looked like a Viking come to life. It helps that Brent also has a fantastic six-pack that I’ve been lucky enough to see a few times. The DTT guys love to walk around half-naked with gym shorts hanging about their hips. Not that I’m complaining. My only substitutes are the male models on the covers of my romance novels, so seeing these guys in 3-D is a treat.
A few of the DTT guys I’ve seen float around before my eyes as I lie in my mattress. They’re tall and muscular, with charming smiles and knowing gleams in their eyes. Sighing a bit, my
