Top secret

But the problem with hitting Send is, the other person still gets the message, because you fucking hit Send.

It freaked me out that you're a guy. And that I let you take the lead. Part of me wants to forget it happened. Most of me wants you to do it again.

"Keaton?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. And I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to get over my own bullshit before and just be your guy."

He swallows. "Can you be now?"

"I want to. If you'll let me try."

Come to Easthampton, Luke. Take the risk.

I miss you and I want to be with you. I want a relationship with you. And I'm no longer interested in hearing excuses. My family doesn't care. The frat will get over themselves. Your hesitation has nothing to do with any of the excuses you gave me last month. It has everything to do with you being afraid. Of me, of trusting someone. Of loving someone. And I'm telling you, here and now, you don't have to be afraid. But what you do need to do is decide. Decide if we're worth the risk.

This moment—when you're standing outside, wasting to meet your hookup for the first time.... it's the most nerve-wracking part.

There are voices inside. A man's and a woman's. So I must be in the right place. But I've never been to this hotel. I never even gave it a sideways glance. It's the kind of place rich folks stay on parents' weekend.

Honestly, it would never occur to me to get a hotel room just for shiggles. Who does that?

I hear someone coming toward the door, and I suck in my stomach. Don't judge—it's a reflex for someone who's used to being on stage without a shirt. I'm just pasting a friendly smile on my face when the door opens, and—

What the...?

Are you fucking kidding me?

The force of my emotions is confusing to me. Annika is well within her rights to say no to a sexual encounter that she doesn't want. Only an asshole would get mad at his girlfriend for expressing her discomfort, for choosing to back out. But I am mad. I'm mad because—fuck. No. Anger isn't what I'm feeling, I realize in dismay. That tightness in my throat, the shakiness of my pulse.

It's disappointment.

Crossing the rug to the door, I try to think of what I'll say when I step outside and apologize. That will be awkward, but at least I can say my piece. Maybe he's ugly, anyway. Maybe I'll laugh about this tomorrow.

Maybe this sick, sad feeling in my gut will go away.

Bracing myself, I open the door.

"My history with this place could not be more different." Hello, honesty. "I have no family legacy here. I grew up in this town, in the shadow of the college. When I was a kid, I'd watch all the European cars line up outside freshman yard on move-in day. They had stickers on the back from schools that I'd never heard of I'd ask, 'where the heck is Choate?'"

"It's nowhere interesting." a brother interjects, and wins himself a ripple of laughter.

I ignore the interruption. "They told me, never mind, kid, your school is this one with the bars on the windows and the metal detectors at the front door. But it turns out that if you have a lot of drive, you can still make it to Darby. And I rushed Alpha Delt when I got here, because I wanted the full college experience." Okay, not entirely honest here. But I can't exactly say, I rushed the frat because my brother is a hooligan. "I'm running for president today because I believe that this can be a place for everyone."

I check the faces around the room, and I'm getting some nods. So this is resonating with a few people, at least.

"In other words, let us carry the torch forward so that wings night and poker and spring bash are the rule of the land!" As I raise an arm grandly, my cynicism is rewarded with laughter. But I barely have any time left on the clock.

"And by the way, I happen to be a finance major. So I like some of the jobs that other people don't. During my term as president I want to implement a new electronic bookkeeping system to make the house run more smoothly. So there's more time for everything fun. Thank you for your... " I break off and glance at Reed.

"Time!" he says, tapping his phone.

"And now, each of our presidential candidates will have ninety seconds to answer the following question. Why do you want to be president next year? We'll start with Keaton."

Reed taps the stopwatch on his phone, and the timer begins to race forward.

Still, Keaton takes a thoughtful moment before he opens his mouth. "It's funny, but I have two different answers to this question. The obvious one is that my father was president of Alpha Delta in 1988, and before that, my grandfather was president in 1962. So this is what my family does. And this gives me a nice perspective on what really matters here not the missing toilet plunger in the green bathroom, but how to make sure that Alpha Delt is still here for the next hundred graduating classes."

There's no way I could ever compete with that kind of legacy. Which is why if he wins, the free room will go to the guy who needs it least.

"But, honestly, my history with this place isn't my real reason for running" Keaton's brow furrows. "Good thing, right? Because it's not reason enough. I'm really here because you are my people. When I come home every day, there's always someone to talk to. There's always a game on TV, and someone to say, "What's up? Grab a seat. The real reason I want to be president is because I care about this place and I can't think of a better use of my... "

"Time" Reed says.

Keaton cocks a thumb toward Reed. "What he said."