Last night didn't feel real. I walked into my dorm room with a naked Solana and Jake cuddled into her bed. I grimaced, the room smelling like an awful few rounds of sex. But part of me softened when I saw how close they were. He truly did cuddle her, I thought.
I'd woken up to him gone and Solana leaving a note saying she went on a morning run. Getting up was miserable enough, and I saw no point in walking to the cafeteria. I didn't want to run into Marcus. He usually ate privately on the patio, but he'd sit with a few students ensuring breakfast. Breakfast was never a safe zone with him there.
After freshening up, putting on my uniform, and stealing a granola bar from Solana's snack bin, I headed out of Evergreen.
The morning sun barely peeked through the thick clouds as I trudged across the damp campus, my backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders.
First up was calculus. I entered the room just as the bell rang, sliding into a seat near the back. The cold, sterile atmosphere of the classroom matched the dense fog of my thoughts. Numbers and equations blurred together as the professor droned on, my mind struggling to focus on derivatives and integrals. The sharp scent of dry-erase markers mixed with the faint, musty odor of old textbooks. Usually, I'd be comforted by the smell, but it did nothing to ground me in the present.
Next was literature, a class I usually enjoyed but today felt like another chore. The walls were lined with classic novels and portraits of long-dead authors. The professor handed out thick volumes of Shakespeare, and as we delved into Macbeth, I found myself drifting in and out of the lesson. I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, just like the characters in the play—fated to a path I didn't want to walk.
I met up with Solana for Chemistry in the greenhouse.
The class went by in a blur, even when Solana was telling me all about her night with Jake, which I was deeply uninterested in. She multitasked, mixing solutions and describing her sexy boy toy, but my mind was elsewhere. The periodic table on the wall might as well have been written in another language; I couldn't concentrate on anything beyond the looming dread of my classics class.
By the time I reached the classics department, my energy was depleted. The classroom was dimly lit, with shelves of ancient texts and artifacts lining the walls. The professor spoke with a passion that usually captivated me, but today it was just background noise. I sat near the window, watching as the grey sky outside darkened, mirroring my mood. Atlas was there, a few rows ahead, but I avoided looking at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. Luckily Irene wasn't here—probably skipping. The discussion centered around Greek mythology, one of my favorite sub-genres.
As I scribbled notes, a subtle sensation of being watched prickled at the back of my neck. Glancing up, I noticed Atlas's back turned toward me, which struck me as odd. My eyes drifted toward the doorway, where I caught a fleeting glimpse of someone in a blazer before they quickly vanished. What the hell?
As the class ended, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text.
Marcus
Velvet Room. Now.
My stomach dropped. Spare me.
I quickly gathered my things, not bothering to put my binder back in my bag as I made my way across campus to the Velvet Room, a luxurious lounge reserved for the elite of Aldridge in the academic center. The hallway stretched before me. The distant sound of chatter and footsteps faded as I moved deeper into the older part of the school, where the air was thick and the light dimmed.
I rounded the corner too quickly, colliding hard with someone, and sending my books scattered across the floor. The impact jolted through me, and I stumbled back, barely catching a glimpse of their startled face before we both froze in the narrow hallway.
I stared up at his tall frame, feeling a mixture of awe and fear. He stared down at me like I was an indescribable creature, peeking his interest. Shit, I thought.
But surely enough Damon's hard demeanor had structured back in place, and he glanced past me, walking down the hall as he left me with a binder of papers on the floor—the binder he made me drop after pushing into me.
I let out a sigh as I bent down to pick up the papers.
It wasn't every day that I bumped into thee Damon Saint-Hayes.
I brushed off the weird feeling and strolled down the campus path until I reached the ivy-clad brick mansion—the academic center. Ascending to the top floor, I approached the imposing double doors of the Velvet Room and pushed them open.
The walls were adorned with deep red velvet curtains, and the floor was covered in plush carpets that muffled my footsteps. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and smoke, a sharp contrast to the cold, clinical classrooms I had just left.
I entered the room to find Marcus lounging on a velvet couch, his legs crossed elegantly, a predatory smile on her lips. Kash, Issac, and Jennie were by the window, casually snorting lines of cocaine off a silver tray, their eyes glazed over with a detached sort of glee. The sight was almost surreal, like stepping into a twisted dream where nothing made sense, yet everything was horrifyingly real. Blair wasn't here to my benefit, but that did little to settle my ease.
Marcus' eyes flicked up to me as I approached, his smile widening. "There she is," he purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I was just telling them about the assignment you finished for me. You really outdid yourself this time, Rag."
I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, as he continued to praise my work, his words wrapping around me like a noose. But there was no warmth in her tone, no genuine appreciation—just a cold, calculated edge that kept me on high alert. I nodded, mumbling a quiet, "Thanks," as I glanced nervously at Kash, Issac, and Jennie, who were now watching me with amusement, their eyes filled with mockery.
Marcus' smile faded, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "But before I reward you," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, "I need you to do me a favor."
My heart skipped a beat as our eyes locked. "W-what do you need?"
Without a word, he tossed a stack of photographs from the coffee table beside him. The pictures scattered at my feet, each one more unsettling than the last. They showed Damon wandering the deserted halls of the classics department at night, and in some of the photos, he was entering a room marked as closed for renovation.
"Um, I don't know what this—" I began, but Marcus cut me off, his smile returning, twisted and cold. "I think my step-brother is hiding something from me," he said, his voice dripping with suspicion.
I glanced at Kash and Jennie by the window, their faces grim, as the weight of the situation settled in. "I'm sorry?"
Marcus tossed one final photograph at me, and my breath caught in my throat. It was a picture of Damon leaving the room in the morning with … Mrs. Margot.
As I stared at the photos in confusion, his composure shattered. He hurled his teacup against the wall with a furious cry, the sound of it shattering making everyone flinch. Jennie dropped the tray she was holding, her hands trembling.
"Look at me bitch," Marcus hissed, his voice venomous. "Speak a word of this to anyone and I'll kill you."
I shook my head frantically, fear gripping me.
"You're in the classics department all the time. I need you to find out what he's doing in there with her. Are they fucking? I need to know that too."
I nodded, desperate to appease him, but doubt crept in. "How am I supposed to—"
"I don't fucking know, Rag! Just find out!" he snapped, her voice rising.
I knew why he asked me of all people. I was the only one who knew—who knew about him and Mrs. Margot. In freshman year I had run into them in a classroom, both undressed and lips connected. I immediately ran out and I'm sure I made a sound while doing so. The next day Marcus was at my doorstep.
By my second year, Marcus told me Mrs. Margot had stopped having relations with him. He was angry about it, angry enough to take out his anger when we had sex. I left his room with so many bruises I lost count. I could only imagine his anger now that he's seeing his step-brother with his previous lover.
I could barely hold back tears.
Marcus' gaze shifted to Jennie, who was still trembling. "Did you fucking drop it?"
Jennie nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Fuck," He spat, his voice laced with contempt. "You're all imbeciles." He turned his icy gaze back to me. "Get out."
—
The quiet embrace of my dorm was a sanctuary I cherished more than anything. The stone walls of the gothic castle, draped in shadows and flickering candlelight, felt like a protective cocoon, wrapping me in a warmth that only solitude could offer. I could lose myself in the rustle of pages, each turning a whisper in the silence, each word a step deeper into another world.
It was in these moments that I felt most alive, most at peace. Aldridge, with its endless drama and chaos, was nothing more than a distant memory here. All I needed was this quiet, this space, where time seemed to slow down.
But then, just as I was sinking deeper into the quiet bliss, a noise shattered the silence. It was faint at first, a mere whisper against the backdrop of my thoughts, but it grew louder, more distinct until it became impossible to ignore. My heart skipped a beat, and my fingers froze on the page.
I strained to listen. There it was again—a soft, deliberate creak, like the sound of footsteps on old wood. My pulse quickened, a chill running down my spine as I slowly turned my gaze towards the door, half-expecting to see some ghostly figure emerging from the darkness.
Before I could react, a sudden rush of movement and a loud "Boo!" broke the tension, making me jump out of my skin. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I realized the source of the sound—Solana, standing in the doorway, a mischievous grin on her face, clearly pleased with her prank.
"You should have seen your face!" she laughed, her voice echoing in the stillness I had once found so comforting.
I glared at her, my fear quickly melting into irritation. "What the fuck Solana!"
"So," she began with an excited grin, "there's gonna be a party on Friday in the West Woods."
I raised a brow, my skepticism clear. "Really?"
"Yes!" Solana said, her eyes alight with excitement. "It's supposed to be huge, a few freshmen but mainly upperclassmen. Jake was telling me all about it today!"
I frowned, still unsure. "It all sounds great, but ... I'm not sure I'm up for that."
Solana rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on! It's mostly about letting loose and having fun. It's a chance to unwind and meet new people. You're always cooped up in here—just give it a shot!"
I hesitated, glancing at the inviting comfort of the room I was leaving behind. "I don't know..."
Solana's grin widened. "You won't regret it, I promise. Just come for a little while. If it's not your scene, we can leave early."
I took a deep breath, still feeling doubtful. "Alright, I'll think about it."
—
The week passed in a blur of homework, reading, appeasing Marcus, and trying to uncover the secrets of the closed-off room Damon was supposedly sneaking into at night with the music teacher.
To my dismay, Jake began spending more time in our dorm, and Solana started inviting him to our movie nights and card games. Surprisingly bubbly for someone so wealthy, Jake had a golden retriever-like charm with his tousled brown hair and freckles, and I found myself feeling like a third wheel. Since he was always accompanying Solana, I got the chance to investigate Damon.
Most of my nights were spent in the hallway of the room where Damon was suspisously stayed, or at Marcus's dorm with his friends, where rumors swirled—one particularly intriguing claim was that Damon had known Mrs. Margot a lot longer than he knew. Marcus caught Blair up to date.
"Seriously? A teacher?" Blair's disbelief was palpable. "Damon is in the business department. Why'd he be screwing with her?"
"But he plays classical music," Jennie reminded her.
"But he quit years ago," Marcus interjected, his expression emotionless.
Damon was the heir to a multi-billion dollar company and a future valedictorian, but his reputation had been marred by scandal. Damon and Marcus became step-brothers last year after the Saint-Hayes Group and Crawford Law Firm merged to create a sub-company. Damon's father married Marcus's mother a few months after Damon's mother died.
It was said that the Saint-Hayes Group CEO was having an affair with the daughter of the Crawford Law Film CEO. Makes sense given they married so quickly after Damon's mother died. But it wasn't so simple. It was tragic actually.
During his freshman year, Damon played a duet with his mother, a violinist, but she suffered a heart attack during the performance at a highly regarded event. The whole thing was a disaster. I remember during my first months of Aldridge, the whole school was reeling over the news, with news outlets at our gates every day to interview Damon. I even heard that he never left his dorm.
Marcus never talked about his relationship with Damon, just at the frustration that their parents made them share a dorm this year. "Yeah, he did indeed quit," he said. "He never picked up an instrument again. But I remember when Mrs. Margot used to teach him … all those late-night sessions and practices."
The crew went silent then, and I knew that the thought was biting into Marcus. I had never seen her so distressed.
"Why does it even matter?" Kash asks, eating a bag of chips. "So what? He's fucking around—"
Marcus slaps the bag out of his hand, startling him. "It matters because that son of a bitch is always being praised around for following the fucking rules and being the best at everything!"
Kash averted his eyes, Marcus completely fuming. "You know how frustrating it is to always come second place? For your mother to compare you to some emotionless bastard? How do you think they'll feel to know that little mister perfect is fucking his music teacher? I'm sure the tabloids will love it—"
"You gonna tell the tabloids?" Blair gasped. "Marcus that's insane—"
"So is messing around with a woman twice his age," he snapped back.
Blair, Jennie, and Kash were silent, unsure what to say. Marcus snapped his head toward me. I held his gaze, the fury in his eyes. He turned away without giving me a remark, and I thought back to what he said.
Messing around with a woman twice his age. How ironic.
That evening, I stationed myself in the dimly lit hallway near the closed-off room, the flicker of the old fluorescent light casting long shadows on the walls. I read Jane Austen by the window as I waited, the chilly draft from the hall rustling the pages of my book. For three nights, Damon never appeared, making me wonder if Marcus had been mistaken. But on the fourth night, I heard footsteps—heavy, purposeful—and quickly hid behind a pillar. Damon strode past, his confident stride echoing in the empty hallway, and entered the room, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud.
My heart raced as I decided to stay an hour longer to see if anyone else entered the room, but there was no other passageway, and he was staying in there alone.
Just as I prepared to leave, the door suddenly swung open, and Damon stood there. He looked like a striking figure from a noir film, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft light spilling from the doorway. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine with a mix of shock and fury.
Frozen in place, I met his gaze. He was imposing—tall and muscular, with a commanding presence that dwarfed me. I looked at him shocked, but my survival instinct sparked through me as I tried to make a run for it, going for the hall. But he grabbed me, his anger flared like wildfire as he pulled me roughly, slamming me against the cold, grimy brick wall. My cheek pressed hard against the rough surface, and my body trembled as he loomed over me, the harsh light casting deep shadows across his chiseled features.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.
"I-I … I got … lost," I stammered, trying to steady my breathing.
His cruel snicker made my eyes sting with unshed tears. "You got lost?"
I was an idiot to think he'd believe, but desperation clawed at me. "Just please, let me go."
"Why should I?" His voice was sharp, accusatory. "You were fucking stalking me, weren't you?"
His condescending tone sparked a fierce defiance in me. I tried to push him off, but he only pressed harder, pinning me with a steely glare. "Why the fuck would I stalk you?" I retorted, meeting his gaze defiantly.
His brow arched in surprise. "Then why are you here?"
I wanted to groan. "Go ask your step-brother that," I spat out, my voice edged with bitterness.
At the mention of Marcus, his grip loosened slightly. I seized the moment, grabbing my dropped bag and scrambling to my feet. Damon didn't turn around as I fled down the hall, my heart pounding and my entire body shaking.