Liam Vale

Theta Rho did not do small.

The house glowed like it had been dipped in gold — string lights strung from balcony to oak tree, bass vibrating through the porch boards, bodies moving in a rhythm that felt less like dancing and more like conquest.

Liam thrived in it instantly.

“Vale twins!” someone shouted from the lawn.

The orbit formed within seconds. Girls in cropped sorority tees. Freshmen trying to look older. Upperclassmen pretending not to stare but absolutely staring.

Liam gave them what they wanted — a grin sharp enough to cut glass.

Ethan stayed half a step behind him. Relaxed. Observing. His hearing aids caught the music in controlled bursts, but his eyes did most of the work.

They hadn’t even made it through the front door before Maddox Reyes intercepted them.

He didn’t need to be loud to command attention.

President of Theta Rho. Political science major. Olympic-hopeful swimmer. Campus fixture. The kind of guy donors remembered by name.

“Vale twins,” Maddox said, shaking their hands one at a time. Firm. Intentional. “Glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Liam replied smoothly.

Maddox’s eyes assessed, not admiring — measuring.

“Come out back,” he said. “Let me introduce you properly.”

The back porch was elevated, quieter than the main floor chaos. A cluster of upperclassmen stood near the railing — less red-cup frenzy, more curated conversation.

“This is Carter,” Maddox said, gesturing to a tall senior in a quarter-zip. “Finance. Internship at Deloitte lined up.”

Carter nodded. “Heard you two are throwing ninety-five.”

“Ninety-seven,” Liam corrected lightly.

Carter grinned. “Even better.”

“And this is Julian,” Maddox continued. “Pre-law. Runs our philanthropy events.”

Julian extended a hand. “You guys planning on sticking around more than three years?”

Ethan answered that one. “We’re planning on graduating.”

A few of the guys laughed.

“Love that,” Julian said. “Athletes who care about class.”

Maddox moved them down the line — Trey, who handled alumni relations; Micah, social chair; Ben, risk management.

The introductions weren’t aggressive, but they weren’t casual either. Questions slipped in between sips of beer.

How are you handling media so far?

You guys doing your own social or working with the athletic department?

What’s practice schedule like?

Liam responded like he’d been doing press since birth. Confident. Polished. A little teasing.

Ethan answered directly. Efficient. No fluff.

Micah clapped Liam on the shoulder. “You’ll like it here. We take care of our own.”

“And we don’t tolerate idiots,” Ben added evenly.

There was a flicker of meaning in that.

Liam clocked it — but brushed past it.

Maddox watched the exchange quietly, hands folded loosely in front of him. Evaluating chemistry. Control. Ego.

After a few more minutes, he tipped his head slightly.

“Walk with me.”

He led them to the far end of the porch, near the steps where the music softened and the night air cooled the noise.

This part felt different.

More deliberate.

“You made a good first impression,” Maddox said. “That matters.”

“Good,” Liam replied easily.

Maddox looked at Ethan. “You don’t talk much.”

“I talk when I need to,” Ethan said.

A faint smile. Approval.

Then Maddox’s expression shifted — not hostile, but serious.

“I’m going to be blunt,” he said.

Liam’s posture straightened almost imperceptibly.

“You’re not normal freshmen.”

“No kidding,” Liam said.

“I’m not talking about ego,” Maddox replied calmly. “I’m talking about scale.”

He gestured toward the house — the chanting, the phones in the air, the girls openly watching them.

“You two came in with NIL deals before you threw a single collegiate pitch. Your faces are already on posters. Bastian’s been chasing a championship for three seasons. Donors are watching. Sponsors are watching.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened slightly.

Liam smirked. “Pressure’s not new.”

“Good,” Maddox said. “Because attention is only going to increase.”

He leaned one shoulder against the railing.

“And attention isn’t just about baseball.”

Liam tilted his head. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Maddox said evenly, “dating at your level is not casual.”

The music thumped behind them.

“Every girl in that house would love to say she’s with one of you. That’s not romantic. That’s social capital.”

Liam didn’t look bothered. If anything, he looked entertained.

“And?” he prompted.

“And if you pick wrong,” Maddox continued, “you don’t just break up. You trend.”

Silence.

Ethan exhaled through his nose.

“Frat scandals. Jealous screenshots. Drunk comments. Misinterpreted DMs,” Maddox said. “It doesn’t take much. You’re brands now. Whether you like it or not.”

Liam crossed his arms. “You giving us relationship advice?”

“I’m giving you optics advice.”

He looked directly at Liam first.

“You like attention. That’s not a flaw. It’s useful. But if you chase it carelessly, it chases back.”

Then to Ethan.

“You don’t seem as interested.”

Ethan shrugged. “It’s noise.”

“That noise can cost you,” Maddox replied. “Sponsors prefer clean narratives. Discipline. Focus. If you date — date smart. If you hook up — be private. If you drink — stay upright.”

A beat.

“I don’t want Theta Rho in headlines for something stupid.”

Liam’s grin returned. “You think we’re stupid?”

“I think you’re eighteen.”

That landed.

Ethan gave a small nod.

“I’m not getting wasted,” he said simply. “I have homework tomorrow.”

Maddox studied him, then nodded once. “Good.”

Liam laughed. “He’s allergic to hangovers.”

“I just don’t like feeling slow,” Ethan replied.

“Keep that,” Maddox said quietly. “That discipline? That’s what keeps athletes in the league and out of apology statements.”

The bass surged as someone opened the back door. A group of girls spilled onto the porch, spotting them instantly.

“Liam!”

“Ethan!”

Phones up.

Smiles wide.

Maddox stepped back, conversation clearly over.

“Enjoy the night,” he said. “Just remember — at your level, nothing is as private as it feels.”

Liam flashed his most effortless smile and moved toward the girls like the tide pulling him forward.

Ethan lingered half a second longer.

“Appreciate it,” he said.

Maddox gave him a knowing look. “You’re the cautious one.”

“Someone has to be.”

Then Ethan followed his brother back into the noise — drink still half full, head still clear.

Across the house, chants started again.

“Bastian! Bastian! Bastian!”

Liam let it fill him. Let it crown him.

Ethan let it wash past him.

The attention was intoxicating.

But neither of them were drunk.

Not yet.