I don’t even know why I’m still hung up on it. Yeah, it sucked, and it could have been so much worse, but it wasn’t, and I need to stop obsessing and get over it before I drive myself crazy.
My stomach rumbles softly, distracting me from my thoughts as I’m hit with a pang of hunger. I ate breakfast this morning but only had a coffee and a muffin when I was on the plane. It’s well past dinnertime, so it’s no wonder I’m hungry.
One of the perks of getting the house to myself is that I have free rein of the kitchen and whatever’s in it. Most guys in the frat have no idea how to cook beyond slapping meat or peanut butter on some bread and calling it a sandwich, but I learned how to cook when I was a kid and can throw a decent meal together as long as I have basic ingredients handy.
Standing up, I strip off my jacket and toss it on my bag.
It's silly, but I barely ever get the chance to make food for myself between school and my father’s house, and the thought cooking is way more thrilling than it should be, and I’m smilingas I leave my room and head down to the kitchen to see what I can rustle up.
9
XAVE
The campus is eerilyquiet as I drive down the road that will take me to my dorm. I have no idea how many students are actually here right now, but other than the guards at the main gate, I haven’t seen anyone around.
That’s not surprising since it’s still winter break and school isn’t opening up again until Tuesday. Most people won’t be coming back until either Monday or Sunday, but it’s still weird to drive through an empty campus.
The towering facade of my dorm, which we call the main house, appears as I approach it. I pull into the back parking lot and maneuver my car into one of the prime spaces near the entrance. As far as I know, Carter is the only person who stayed here over the break, and he doesn’t drive, so it’s no surprise that the lot is as empty as the rest of campus.
The night air is cool, and a crisp breeze ruffles my hair as I sling the strap of my bag over my shoulder and head up the walkway to the back door. Tapping my ID card on the sensor next to the door, I wait for the usual click of the door unlocking. Instead, a small light on the bottom of the sensor flashes red.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Carter says through the speaker on the sensor.
I glance up at the camera over the door since I know he’s looking at it right now. “Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Depends on why you’re back early.”
I flip the camera off. “How’s this for an answer?”
“Try again,” he says, and I can hear the humor in his voice.
I flip him off with both hands. “Better?”
The lock clicks, and I pull the door open.
The house is a smaller, less flashy version of Hamilton House, the main dorm where most members of the Rebels live, and it’s where the leaders and their admin team stay. There are dozens of rooms in the house, but currently, only nine of us live here.
Just like Hamilton House, the main house is a lavish Gothic Victorian mansion that looks like it could double as Dracula’s vacation home. It’s opulent and extra and everything you’d expect to find at a school like Silvercrest, where money talks and the traditions of trying to one-up each other are still alive and well today.
While the outsides of the main house and Hamilton House are nearly identical, except for the main house being significantly smaller, their interiors are vastly different.
Hamilton House is set up like a typical dorm with common areas on the main floor and the upper floors housing the private rooms. It also has multiple basements, but only the first level is open to members, and that’s where the pool, gyms, storage areas, and several secure meeting rooms can be found.
The main house looks like a typical mansion at first glance, but it’s a literal maze with hidden corridors, secret rooms, and multiple concealed staircases that will take you to specific areas and nowhere else. And even though I live here, a good portion of the house is still a mystery to me since there are entire sectionsof the place that are off limits to everyone except the leaders and Carter.
Everything inside the main house is the same Gothic Victorian style as Hamilton House, but all of us who live here have single rooms and our own bathrooms instead of double rooms with private baths. There’s also a small guest house tucked into the edge of the property near the woods where the staff used to live, but it’s been vacant since they were relocated to the small town off campus with the rest of the people who work at the school decades ago.
My footsteps echo on the dark hardwood floors as I head to one of the back staircases and dash to the third floor. Once I’m in the hall, I pull open one of the heavy wooden doors that looks exactly like the others around it, revealing a hidden staircase that leads to the fourth floor instead of a room or closet like one would expect.
I flick on the light switch, but the single bulb doesn’t do much to illuminate my way as I hurry up the stairs and exit through another heavy door. The fourth floor is actually divided into three sections that can only be accessed by different staircases, and I’m the only person who lives in my section. A couple of guys live on the far side of the hall, but there’s no one anywhere near me, and the extra privacy is a nice perk.
I unlock the door to my room and step inside. The rooms in the house all have the same Gothic decor and feel but aren’t identical like the ones in Hamilton House. My room is one of the nicer ones, thanks to my status as part of the frat security team, and has a huge canopy bed, an ornate desk with a comfortable chair, an oversized dresser, a huge wooden wardrobe instead of a closet, and a bookshelf. I also have a small attached den with a couch, an easy chair with an antique stained glass reading light, and a coffee table, while most of the guys only have an open sitting area in their rooms.
My bathroom isn’t anything special, but it’s got everything I need, including a shower and separate claw-foot soaker tub, a large vanity with a massive mirror over it, and a small cubicle that houses the toilet.
Out of habit, I scan the room to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and nothing seems off as I toss my bag onto the small bench at the end of my bed. I shrug off my jacket, then throw it on the other side of the bench and unzip the main pocket of my bag so I can get the laptop and phones we stole from our kidnappers.
Thanks to the ridiculous layout of the house, I have to go back down to the third floor, then use another hidden staircase to get to the middle section of the fourth floor. No one lives in this section, and as far as I know, the rooms here aren’t used for anything and are kept locked at all times. Bypassing the rooms, I stop in front of a heavy wooden door and glance up at the tiny pinhole camera in the frame.
