Hillary Essex's the president of her sorority. It's her senior year and she'd looking forward to finishing her term, mixers, formals, and maybe a little bit of Jack.
Not Jack Daniels. Jack Morrey of Omicron Mu.
Problem is the Omicrons and the Gammas don't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things and Jack's getting fed up with Hillary. Meanwhile, one of Hillary's sisters Flora won't stop nagging her about some supposed administration plot. Hillary doesn't know why she'd bothering. It's probably just another Greek Life rumor...
And before Hillary knows it she's trying to juggle boy problems in one hand, Gamma issues in another and she may just need a third to take care of the rest of Greek Street
The headlights of the waiting charter bus cut through the murky night as it pulled onto Greek Street. Car doors were slamming as the Sigs arrived from the pregame. Some of them had Gammas in tow who were laughing too loudly. Hillary, still clear-headed, was starting to wish for some of the buzz that came after a shot or two.
“No,” she was telling the Sig president. “You can’t let your guys bring that jug of Hawaiian punch onto the bus! No one’s going to believe that it’s just punch.”
“It is just punch,” he insisted. “Special punch.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure it’s very special, Scott. But our risk reduction rules don’t let us have alcohol on the bus. There’s no way to regulate whether it gets passed to someone underage or not. You’re telling me your bylaws let you do that?”
“What the bylaws don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.
“Just try it. You’ll like it.”
“Fine,” she snapped. Quick as a blink, she snatched it from his hand, and took a sip. It burned all the way down to her belly. “Delicious,” she told him. Scott smiled. He was still smiling when she overturned the jug into the grass.