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We make our way down the hall that reeks of a dozen different fragrances of perfume with a musty stench that seeps from the gray carpet. There’s fifteen rooms on our floor that house two girls in each room. Upstairs are the three-bedroom quarters. Scar and I are in the very last room; therefore, our trek to the only staircase on the other end isn’t a quick one.
We pass by three girls, one of which lives on the same floor. She’s quiet for the most part and I’ve got no issues with her. As for the other two—Melody and Hannah—they live at the Delta Chi House, the girls’ sorority, and both are major bitches.
As we pass, Melody sticks her nose in the air in an attempt to prove she’s above us.
Scar flips her hair over her shoulder, mocking Melody’s prissiness, and I laugh. “Some bitches never change,” Scar says, loud enough for the girls to hear.
“And some hellions stay the same,” Melody tosses the insult back at us.
Scar and I have quite the reputation for raising a little hell in high school. Well, not so much raising it, but sort of existing in it. We hoped the drama wouldn’t follow us to BCU, and so far, it hasn’t been too bad.
I steal one last glance at the girls’ backsides. “Is it just me or does it seem like Melody and her clique are never doing any of the dirty work we have to do? Granted, I know they’re in the sorority, but it shouldn’t negate their responsibilities as a member of The Society.”
Scar grumbles, “Oh, I’m sure Daddy bought her out of her chores. If only mine would do the same. Apparently, it’s important that I have the full college experience as a Blue Blood.” She fakes a gag, then impersonates her dad with a deep voice. “It’ll strengthen you in the long run.”
“Pretty sure my parents have the same mindset,” I tell her. My dad’s made generous donations to the school, but I guess it wasn’t enough to get me out of the party setup or cleanup. We’re not rich, by any means, but my parents do well for themselves. My father is a private investigator, which pairs nicely with his investigative skills as a Guardian in The Society. And my mom’s a well-known reporter for our local newspaper. It’s not required to have a career that correlates with our roles as Guardians, but it’s definitely useful. I chose to pursue a degree in journalism and it’s actually a choice I made on my own. I love writing, even if it is just poetry, and the skills I learn as a Guardian will, no doubt, assist me in doing the research for my articles.
We jog down the steep staircase to the first floor and the cold air from the open door hits my chest, puckering my nipples. “Holy hell,” I shiver, hugging myself. “When did Mother Nature decide to spring winter on us? It’s only the first of October.”
“We’re in the Colorado mountains, babe. Aren’t you used to it by now?”
“Nope. And I really hope this chill in the air isn’t a sign that we’re skipping fall and going straight to winter.”
There's a guy holding the door open that I don’t recognize. My only assertion is that he’s here to meet up with one of the residents. But when Scar and I step outside and I thank him, he allows the door to close and heads down the concrete steps behind us.
“Don’t you worry,” Scar says. “I’m sure we’ll get the full fall experience. Ghosts, goblins, witches brew, and all.”
“I sure hope so.” For as long as I can remember, I was always on my schools’ decorating committees that would set up for seasonal events, dances, and any social event. This is the first year I haven’t signed up to partake in any festivities because at BCU, the Delta Chi girls are in charge of planning.
Maybe that’s what I need to do…start getting involved again. Maybe I could offer the girls in the sorority my help. They can’t all be as bad as Melody. Forcing myself out of my room, while surrounding myself with people, could really do me some good. Obviously this ‘dwelling on my past’ thing isn’t working. After all, what more can I possibly lose, besides my dignity, if they say no?
One thing Iamcertain of is that Scar and I are going to have the best damn legs around after this school year. All this walking is surely good for our calves, especially when they burn this badly.
Fifteen minutes later, after walking in the chilled temps, we arrive at the Kappa Rho House. It's astonishing how different it looks in the daylight compared to the night.
Hidden among blue spruce and pine trees is a mansion-sized white house that homes over a dozen men who, for reasons unbeknownst to me, joined this fucked-up fraternity. We’ve already got enough going on with The Society and school, so why in God’s name would anyone want to take on added responsibilities during what are supposed to be the ‘best years of their lives’? Not to mention the things they do to each other are deplorable. Those poor freshmen boys have to walk through fire just to get into this fraternity, and once they are in, they’re tortured for an entire school year.
During the cold months, Kappa Rho and Delta Chi are where most of the parties are held since both sit deep in the woods. There’s also more social space since they’re actual houses, as opposed to the dorms which have only a bunch of rooms and a small lounge on the basement level.
The fraternity and sorority houses on campus are the only ones not named after a founding family. My family, the Crosses, aren’t a founding family, but I like to think our roles in The Society have baptized us as vital members.
I stop walking directly in front of the tall staircase. “You sure you don’t want to ditch cleanup and go drink coffee in front of the fireplace at the student center?”
Scar furrows her brow then gives me a playful shove. “Move it, girl. If we ditch our chores, they’ll make us do something much worse next time.”
I grumble in defeat as I drag my ass up the stairs, shoulders slumped. Scar reaches for the U-shaped handle on the door, but before she can pull it open, the mysterious guy from Willamette House—our dormitory—steps in front of us, sporting a rather impressive smirk. “Allow me.”
He’s not bad-looking, if you’re into the preppy-boy type, which I am. Blond hair, arctic blue eyes, and some weird connect the dot symbol tattooed to his arm. Although, I’m more concerned about his body temperature because it can’t be over forty-five degrees out here and he’s sporting a short-sleeved white polo shirt.
Scar steps inside with a scowl on her face and I know her protective side is kicking into high gear. If I had to guess, she wants to know why this guy was at our dorm and why he’s here now. I, too, should be curious, but now I’m looking at that tattoo again and I wanna know what it means.
See. I’m a terrible Guardian. The worst.
There is no doubt in my mind that I’m too trusting. No matter how hard I try to change that flaw, I continue to search for the good in people. It’s the one thing about myself that hasn’t changed, yet. Let’s hope no one takes away that innocent side of me.
I lean my shoulder into the building and drag my eyes from his crotch to his face. “What’s your name?”
Another flaw: I suck at flirting. Abso-fucking-lutely suck. I never cease to embarrass myself, much like right now.
