You're a dealer!

You come clean and tell them you're here to supply some goodies to the Delta Delta sorority girls.

"Haha.... wait... for real?"

The frat bros take a minute to regroup while they digest the info. It sure would explain the backpack and that none of them know you... And it also means they're not going to mess with you, but...

But you're losing Tiffany. An older dude and a **** dealer (with no social skills, apparently) isn't what high school girls visit campus to sleep with. At least not top-tier cheerleader babes like Tiffany...

The one with jokes puts his arm around Tiffany's waist, and she melts into his embrace. He cocks a shit-eating grin at you, as though to thank you for helping be a wingman.

"Honestly, I'm not into any of that stuff, but not gonna hate on it." This guy is winning it up at your expense. "Hey, no sweat then. Don't mean to bother you, bro. Get at that business."

The frat bro keeps his arm around Tiffany and circles her away from the group, off towards the bar. "What're you drinking again, sweetheart?" he asks her.

There goes Tiffany...

One of the frat bros, a big Offensive Tackle kind of dude, approaches you and says, "You got any, like, weed, man?"