Made to be His ( The Archer Family 1)

Chapter 1

2009

Even from a block away, Andy Archer could make out the faint strains of "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" bumping from the open door of the fraternity house.

This was it.

Two months into her freshman year, she was going to a real-life frat party, complete with a trendily ironic 90's theme. She smoothed her dishwater-brown hair down over her red plastic jump suit a-la "Oops, I Did It Again" Britney, and her flip phone buzzed in her wristlet.

She pulled the little cube from her purse and eyed the message from her roommate, Shay. "Be there in ten. Don't worry, I won't bother to look for you too hard."

Andy rolled her eyes at the five winky faces following the message and shoved the phone back in her bag none too ceremoniously. She'd known it was a mistake to tell Shay about the invite.

Or, rather, about who'd invited her.

Andy's heart sped up again just thinking about it.

She'd been sitting in the pub with her brother, Matt, chatting while they watched the Yankees clinch the playoffs.

"I think the Philly's will take it this year," she'd said.

A deep, dark voice beside her had rumbled, "We can only hope."

Then her heart thudded into her stomach as she stared into Logan Grant's laughing gaze. Of course, Matt stood and greeted his friend with all the fist bumping and male grunts usually reserved for best friends and teammates, as if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis.

And for Matt, it hadn't.

After all, he wasn't the one who'd been desperately trying to seem like a normal human being every time Logan was around. He wasn't the one who had trouble remembering to breathe at the mere sight of his friend’s six feet of rock hard muscle.

Matt slid back into the booth and invited his friend to join them.

"What brings you here this fine day? Avoiding another test?" Matt asked.

Logan grinned back. "Two birds, one stone. I'm actually spreading the word. Alpha is having a party Halloween weekend, and it'd be nothing without our star pitcher."

"I'm honored." Matt grabbed his beer, and sipped. "But I have a date."

"Right." Logan frowned. "Well, when that goes bust, you know where to find us. It's 90's themed, so wear something topical. I'm planning on doing my best Fabio from the ‘I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter’ commercials."

"I loved those," Andy piped in, but then as heat spread to her cheeks, she automatically wished the earth would swallow her up.

Luckily, Logan didn't seem to notice. "Who doesn't? Well, anyways, I should probably try to find the people who don't think they're too cool for this shindig."

He slid from the booth and Andy watched him pass each of the stalls, noting the way every woman in the place turned to do the same. When he was nearly to the door, though, he turned and added, "Andy, you're coming, right?"

"I-I…" she stuttered.

"Of course. I'm pretty sure she still knows all the moves to ‘Bye, Bye, Bye,’" Matt called.

"Good, then I won't be the only one burning up the dance floor. I'll be keeping an eye out for you." He shot her another playful grin, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the doors again.

When she was sure the coast was clear, she glared at her brother. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Mostly to make sure you didn't spend Halloween in your dorm room watching the game." He took another swig of his beer, then added, "but also because I thought it was fun."

And so two weeks and one 90's-inspired shopping trip later, she found herself on Fraternity Lane, still staring at the porch of the house she was too chicken to enter.

Several clusters of people lingered on the stairs and around the patio furniture outside, while still others clung to the doorway like their life depended on it. From the railing, a girl dressed like “Genie-in-a-Bottle”-era Christine Aguilera called, "Britney Spears!" and pointed at her.

Andy nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my god," she slurred. "I fucking love Britney Spears."

"Who doesn't?" She cleared her throat, then skirted around the clusters of people on the steps until she'd reached the front door. She opened her mouth to ask if faux-Christina had seen Logan, but the cheer from inside the house interrupted her.

"What was that about?" she asked to anyone listening.

"Ugh," a guy dressed like Chuckie Finster said. "Damned Phillies can't catch a break tonight."

"The game is on?"

The woman beside Chuckie, clad in her own matching Angelica Pickles outfit, groaned. "Unfortunately."

"Great. Thanks." Andy muscled her way inside, ignoring the crowds of people around her and the stink of booze and weed in the air, until she found the TV on the far side of the common room. It was a small flat screen, and the knot of people crowding it was so tight that she had to stand on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of the score.