He had no idea when exactly it'd all gone to shit, but this date was no doubt even worse than the one before. How was that even possible?

The man was named Chris... Or maybe Chad. Something with a "ch" sound at the beginning. That's all Scott Walsh really knew. He showed up at his apartment door and politely walked him down to his car. It all seemed to be going just fine. His date's shiny new car was an instant plus. He was groomed so nicely too; his sandy hair was slicked back tightly against his scalp and he wore a typical formal suit. It was almost a bit much for Scott's more modest tastes, but that was really the only complaint right off the bat.

And yet... something just still wasn't right about this one. Just like all the others.

Perhaps Scott was cursed... He had no idea what he really did to deserve this many failed attempts at romance.

This had to mark a new record. He'd was totally on his way to earning the title of Guy With the Most Failed Dates.

He'd styled his rich auburn hair with gel - gel that was way too damn expensive for a senior in college to be wasting - and put on his nicest outfit. A friend from his part-time job had set him up with this guy. She'd told him they'd be perfect together and that he was just his type, so he'd been very focused on looking perfect. His hopes had been pretty high.

So far it seemed she'd been right for the most part, and yet...

Something still wasn't clicking by the time he settled down in the man's glossy Maserati Levante and they peeled out of his apartment complex. It made it all the more disappointing. He was in a fucking $80,000 car and all he could feel was "meh."

It made Scott feel guilty as well. This man had picked him up from his shitty, single-person apartment, asked sincerely interested questions about him, and taken him to a fancy restaurant in the historic part of Glemson. So fancy that Scott felt a little under-dressed in the nicest clothes he had in his tiny closet. The guy wasn't even unattractive. He was a few years older- a thing which Scott was slightly hesitant to admit having a huge thing for... And fuck, he drove a luxury car. Scott figured he looked like some kind of gold digger by simply being out with this man. Definitely a score, so why the hell was he still not in to it?

The only real complaint he felt justified in having was over the comment about the hostess that greeted them. She clearly had Down syndrome and his date revealed a snobby nature when the first thing he said when they sat down was, "Wow, it sure is respectable to give a girl like that a job in place like this, don't you think...? But do they really have to make that the first thing we come in to and see? You know what I mean?"

If Scott hadn't already abandoned hope at that point, he probably would have in that moment. Fuck this guy; that girl was precious.

"So tell me about you," he proposed after a few minutes of painful silence. He was sitting across from Chris-Chad-Whatever in a two-person booth and the man had stopped attempting conversation a short while ago. He must have finally sensed Scott's disinterest. He surely was only continuing their pointless evening because he had some manners... The student quietly reminded himself to insist on paying for his own meal, as to also be mature about the whole thing. He'd already fought back the urge to protest when his non-spectacular date ordered an expensive bottle of wine.

Scott felt even guiltier when some spark of hope flickered in the man's eyes at his question. Fuck. He shouldn't have lead him on any more than he had already. He should have kept his mouth shut and simply let the night go on at its dreadful pace.

"Well," the sandy-haired man hummed warmly, "I'm a litigator. It's stressful at times and I work long, near ridiculous hours, but I find it rewarding. My clients and coworkers..."

He was still talking, but Scott had spaced out to try and hide a cringe. Great. A lawyer, just like his dad. He didn't ever want to relate family to a potential lover. Didn't matter if he was an entirely different kind of lawyer than his insurance-lawyer father. A much flashier, stereotypical kind of lawyer in fact. Either way, the law bored Scott to no end.

Maybe he was just being picky... He was so awful. He couldn't even remember the poor guy's name. It was driving him crazy.

Another voice to his side shook him back to reality as he sipped absentmindedly on his wine. It was definitely the best damn wine a college kid could ever hope to get their hands on... He felt so awful for playing his date in to getting it, but at least the slight buzz after a couple of generous glasses helped him along.

Must be the waiter, he told himself, asking if the food was alright. He blinked across the table at Lawyer-Man and groaned internally. He'd been caught not paying attention. The poor guy's lips were clamped in a tight, knowing frown.

At least the waiter was back to make things less-

Scott's heart stopped when he made eye contact. The whole world stopped. He hadn't thought the night could get any worse even if the Devil himself came crashing through the ceiling, landed on their table buck-ass-naked, and cockslapped the Tuck Everlasting shit out him for his sins that night.

Nope. Instead, the Devil was wearing a dressy white shirt, black bow tie, and matching black pants. He was standing at their table with his hands clasped in front of him in a polite, butler-esque manner.

He was wearing a manager's uniform and a name tag that burned Scott's retinas in confirmation.

Devil Manager probably would've jumped right on the offer to rub his dirty cock all over Scott's face. The auburn-haired student tried not to scowl- and get flustered- at the thought.

Dominic Vines was eyeing him with those slate gray eyes and that signature smile... That cursed smile was more of a smug, self-righteous smirk if one only dug deeper and experienced the true nature of his scumbag ways. Scott didn't know if he wanted to punch or kiss it off him. All he knew is that he'd convinced himself he would never see that smile again. Or, at least not feel anything other than hatred for it if he did...

"Hey there, Scottie. Come here often?"

Definitely punch it off.

A/N: Why am I starting a new story in the middle of school...? I'm probably not too smart. Hell, I just have to write this one.

A little disclaimer of sorts before we get in to the gritty shit... Some of the things you'll see in this story DO NOT reflect my own personal views on fraternities as a whole. While Greek Life definitely is not my thing in the least, please understand that I am not trying to generalize ALL FRATERNITIES OR THE PEOPLE IN THEM. AT ALL. There are some very corrupt ones and some good ones, like with anything else. Hazing is widely frowned upon and strictly enforced against. Any coincidences with actual frat or sorority names are completely unintentional. I'm not a master of the Greek alphabet.