By Greg Alexander
Trevor walked into Dirty Nick’s, sat down at the bar, and ordered a Guinness. Dirty Nick’s was a favorite for the boys of Delta Psi — for one thing because it was right down the street from the frat house, and for another because the owner was a former frat boy, which meant that guys like Trevor never got carded. Granted, Trevor had a fake, like everyone at Delta Psi. And anyway, he was coming up on 21 in a matter of months — he was old for his year. But it was good not to get carded.
Trevor spotted his group of friends sitting at one of the tables in the corner. They were all Delta Psi brothers, except for one or two dudes on the crew team. It wasn’t that Trevor had any particular problem hanging out with guys who weren’t in the frat, or on one of his teams, every now and then, but he found most of the guys at school to be tools, wusses, douche bags, or probably a little gay. The brothers of Delta Psi were the one exception — everyone one of them was a real bro, someone Trevor felt like he could chill with.