The Ten-Year Game Plan

Chapter 5-Josie

The frat house that was throwing the party was one that I didn't recognize.

I wasn't a wild party girl or anything close, but because of Gisele knowing almost everyone on campus, I thought I had a pretty good handle on which places threw the best parties and which ones were known for getting out of control. The house at the address Donovan had sent me was not known for either of those things. In fact, I wasn't altogether sure it was a frat house.

Since I'd come straight from work, I was still dressed in my uniform of shorts and a tank top. I didn't have an alcohol blanket either so I was chilled as soon as I opened my car door. My brother was soooo getting punched in the neck for this.

As soon as I walked in, I realized why I'd never been to a party at this house. It was one of the team houses. Usually, these parties were reserved for athletes and whoever the athletes deemed acceptable to come with them. Nobody stopped me as I moved through hordes of drunk, muscular looking young men and tall, lean looking young women.

I wondered if any of them could tell that studying was the only marathon I was capable of.

"Josieeeeeeeeeee!" I turned at the familiar voice and grimaced when I saw my brother, grinning widely at me with his eyes half-closed. Every step he took closer the more I could smell alcohol and vomit on his breath. Gross.

"Hey buddy," I put my arm around his shoulders, "let's get you out of here, huh?"

It was how I used to talk to him when he was 8 and I was 12, but it seemed to work anyways. He nodded and stumbled over to a table where he put his red solo cup down. Definitely jungle juice— the deathly concoction of sweet tasting alcohol that was usually served at these kinds of things— spilled over the top when he slammed it down.

"Fish," there was that annoying voice again. I turned and blue eyes were grinning at me. Donovan glanced down at my shorts. "Come a long way since the Bermuda shorts days of fifth grade, huh Troutman?"

"Shut up Donovan."

"To be quite honest with you, I don't really know which one I prefer more."

"Do you want my help or not?"

He shrugged, "not really."

"Fine," I huffed out, beyond irritated, "then deal with the consequences of your own actions by yourself." I turned as if to leave.

"He's your brother."

He was right, of course I would never leave Marcus to fend for himself. I would, however, wait in the car so I didn't have to speak to this prick.

"I am surprised you came," Donovan added when I didn't answer.

"You told me my brother was basically dying. Of course I came."

"That's dramatic—"

Marcus took that time as an opportunity to stumble back into me, spouting nonsense about how excited he was to come to this school and I shot Donovan a look that would've murdered him if that kind of thing was legal... or possible.

"This is your fault."

"How is this my fault?" He looked shocked that I would even insinuate his involvement.

"You're joking, right? He was your responsibility to take care of and now he's barely able to— no, you know what? I'm not doing this. I'm taking him home."

I turned with a sigh, helping to lead my brother out of the party. Out of my peripherals, I noted that Donovan was holding on to the other side of my brother. At this point, I didn't have the energy to argue with him. Plus, I needed help lugging Marcus out of here.