I knew I was fucked the second those two shot glasses slid off the tray and smashed on the floor.

The whole party went dead silent for half a second, then the brothers started laughing and booing. Beer pong night, and I, the new 18-year-old pledge, was supposed to hold a tray of vodka shots steady while the seniors took them off one by one. Easy task, right? Except my hands were shaking like a damn leaf, and two shots ended up all over Ryan Dane’s sneakers.

Ryan. The president. 22 years old, Six-foot-four of pure muscle from lacrosse and the gym, cocky smirk that made every pledge sweat. He...