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It might not have been her, but someone’s got to pay for what happened.
I spare a glance at my reflection in the mirror and then step into the shower, beneath the hot jet of water.
I’ve been friends with Syn since we were in diapers. I spent so much time at his house that his brother feels like my own…
Felt.
We might not have been blood brothers, but JP’s death still didn’t feel real to me.
I take my time with my shower and getting ready. The Freshman Welcome Mixer is a mere formality. An opportunity for the professors and the dean to welcome the new students and pretend that they’re in charge of this college.
Everyone knows who really runs this place. Even the freshmen.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, I’m waiting in the kitchen. It takes ten minutes to walk over to the church, which means Gemini will leave his room in exactly two minutes.
I swirl what’s left of the vodka around in my glass and then throw it into the back of my throat, enjoying the warming sensation.
On cue, Gemini walks into the kitchen looking like the angelic twin of the guy I saw a couple of hours ago. Like me, he’s wearing the college uniform.
In the 1800s, back when this college was built, someone on the governing board decided that despite being a college, all students would be required to wear a uniform. Because a well-groomed man must always be presentable for the world, so why not get used to it in college?
Of course, the uniform isn’t as uniform as the founding members envisioned. Now it’s more of akeep it work appropriate,and every student has their tailors create their uniform with a unique twist.
Me? I prefer a round collar.
Gemini? He goes from one extreme to the other. If he’s not in uniform, he’s in skinny jeans and hoodies—usually with the hood up. It drives Syn crazy, though he never comments on Gemini’s clothes. However, get Gemini in a suit, and he goes all out. He’s a man who wears corsets. Fucker looks good in them too. He’s got a tapered waist that suits them. I’m fairly certain one of his corsets would fit my thigh.
His long hair, which had been loose, unbrushed, and curling around the bottom of his neck, is now pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Annoyingly, the guy is also blessed with those Asian genes that seem to grant him good skin that never ages.
Gemini’s a good-looking guy, no question about that. He could pick up any girl—or guy—on campus and get them curled up like a pretzel, but I’ve never seen him with anyone. He just tells me he has a type.
“Let’s get this over with,” he says, his tone flat. He sounds as enthusiastic as I feel, but I know that will change when we’re in public.
“At least Syn isn’t here this year,” I say as we move towards the door.
That’s not because we don’t like Syn. JP felt like family, but Syn—and Gemini—theyaremy brothers. Unfortunately, Synclair Keyingham, direct descendant of James William Keyingham—the university’s founder, is required to stand beside his father as he gives the annual opening speech.
I don’t care if he’s my best friend’s dad, the speech… the whole damn thing is always boring as hell, even if it is fully expected for someone in his position.
The sun has set, and the rain has finally stopped as we walk to the church. Even though it’s late August, there’s a chill in the air, sending a shiver down my spine.
Or maybe it’s in anticipation of what’s coming later.
The church is already full. Freshmen are down at the front, required to sit in the first few rows. James Keyingham University is one of the most exclusive undergraduate institutions in the country. Attending here guarantees entry into any of the Ivy’s… As a result, there are only five hundred or so students in total.
The church comfortably holds all of us, including the faculty. Aside from the dean, they’re all seated in the transept, in raised rows so they can be seen by all the students.
The illusion of power is strong in them.
Gemini and I head up to the second level. Around the edge, practically hidden in the walls, is a viewing area deep enough for one bench. Only current members of the Elite are welcome up here. Without Syn present, there are forty-seven of us.
I walk through, with other members stepping back so I can pass, so that Gemini and I can reach the center seats.
While almost every other university has a Greek system, the one at James Keyingham is different. Exclusive.
Elite.
There is no fraternity or sorority on campus. There’s just us.
