If I walk up to him, will he ignore me? Would there be tension or a familiarity that’s been constant most of my life? What’s the reason he’s been avoiding me?
My tumultuous thoughts keep me company as I make my way across campus. Eventually, the glow of the fraternity’s castle comes into view, guarded by the ornate iron-wrought gate. I slow my steps on the gravel-filled driveway and then stop in front of the entrance.
Like magic, the gate slides open. They have great security… or someone’s anticipating my arrival.
Hesitation slithers down my legs, keeping me from moving. I shake it off and pull my coat tighter around my shoulders before marching forward. The faster I get in there, the faster I can get this over with.
The heavy, wooden door of the castle opens without a sound just as I reach the threshold. A figure emerges, backlit by the lights from the foyer. It’s an older man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, and polished onyx shoes.
The man inclines his head and extends his arm with flourished movement, his gloved hand pointing in my direction. “Welcome, Miss Scott.”
I nod, too unsettled by everything to form coherent words. It’s one thing for the gate to swing open when I show up, but to have this man open the door before I knock is another. Not to mention he said my name, which means he knows my identity. The security in this place is epic or really fucking scary.
“I am Mortimer. Mrs. Emerson has asked me to escort you to the lounge. Right this way, please.”
My mind instantly hones in on the founding family name of Emerson. Another bitch who’s probably drinking the crazy kool-aid. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not dealing with Professor Ames. He’s like a not-hot Professor Snape: smart, creepy, and a dick.
As Mortimer leads the way, the grandeur of the castle’s interior momentarily diminishes my nervousness. The entrance hall is adorned with colorful tapestries depicting different coat-of-arms and battle scenes from the Revolutionary War. I glance up at the chandeliers, now electric instead of using candles, and their sparkle momentarily dazzles me.
We climb a wide staircase that’s covered in a rich burgundy carpeting. The carved banister is smooth to touch, worn by generations of hands. At the top, he guides me down a long hallway and my heels sink into the plush material underneath my feet.
I scan the area and frown when I find we’re completely alone. Although I have no idea how many fraternity members live in this building, I figured I would’ve seen at least one by now.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
The butler never stops walking but turns to briefly look at me over his shoulder. “All will be revealed in time, Miss Scott. You’ll see.”
His cryptic response makes my nervousness return in full force. I’m not sure why I’m so jittery. This event is sanctioned by the university, at least to an extent, so it has to be safe.
Right?
Mortimer stops in front of a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor before pushing them open. I peek around him to find a room draped in blue and gold.
“Mrs. Emerson will be with you shortly,” he says.
I nod and step into the room, finding it empty. The large fireplace takes center stage and gives the space a welcoming glow. Plush sofas have been placed in front of it, the flames from the fire dancing along their deep blues and bright golds. The walls are draped with swaths of cream-colored silk and accentuated with golden filigree patterns.
My inspection of the decor comes to a halt when the doors open behind me. I immediately take a step back, my gaze focused on the newcomer. Mortimer guides her inside, giving her the same speech he did to me, and shuts the door once more.
June glances around the room, taking in the antique furniture, but when her gaze lands on me, it widens. My friend hurries over to my side, her long legs scissoring gracefully. The black dress she wears is similar to mine in style, straps lining her shoulders and the hem stopping just above her knees.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You first.” She eyes me up and down. “Though it looks like we’re here for the same party.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The uncertainty of the situation rushes through me, loosening my tongue. “I, uh, had a littleincidentinvolving a certain asshole professor. Signing up for this event was my way of getting out of trouble. Your turn.”
June folds her arms with a sigh. “My academic advisor called me into the office yesterday and told me that my ‘failure to participate in community activities could lead to my scholarship being revoked,’” she says, making air quotes. “I can’t afford the tuition, so here I am, despite the fact that I was never told about this.”
“I was accused of cheating. Well, not me, but helping the guy next to me do it.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m here to exemplify a model student.”
“Join the club. Do you know what we’re supposed to do exactly?”
“Not a fucking clue. The email I got from Professor Ames was short and didn’t tell me anything important other than the date, time, and what to wear.”
