Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

T he smell of fresh coffee pulled me from my stupor, earthy and sweet undertones followed closely behind. Heavy lids peeled themselves open and my vision fought to come into focus on a volume of Macbeth. The spine had been broken, deep creases formed in the navy blue of its cover.

I was still in Ambrose's office with my head resting on the pillow of my arms—which were rather unfortunately covered in a bit of drool.

Pops deep in my back sounded as I sat up and scrubbed the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Uneasy chugs beat in my ribs from too little sleep.

"There she is." Ambrose smiled, sitting on the opposite side of the desk. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I muttered.

"Clearly you needed it, you slept through two classes."

"Two?" I gaped. "Fuck! You should have woken me!" I scrambled to my feet, snagging my discarded bag and coat from behind him in the chair. The room spun in dizzying circles and I regretted getting up so fast.

"Where are you going?" he asked, following close behind.

"Lunch and then my afternoon class, I can't miss everything today." Only when I paused by the door did I get to see the disappointment flicker over his face.

"I wish you would. I'm nearly done with work and we can spend the rest of the afternoon at Oakwood House." He snaked an arm around my waist, fingers teasing the curve of my ass where the hem of my skirt had risen from haste.

"As much as I want to, I'm trying to stay in good standing." My hands splayed against his chest. "Not just to get off my mother's shit list, but also because I'm enjoying this program."

"I understand." Ambrose pressed a kiss to my forehead, breathing in deeply. "You said you came here this morning for a reason. What was that?"

Fuck, I had forgotten in the haze of sex. I drug my tongue over my lip as I considered not asking him at all.

"God, that was an unwise decision to make, Vivian." His hand came under my chin, the pad of his thumb glided over my lip, pulling every thought from my mind.

"Ambrose," I breathed, nearly begging. "I can't think when you do that."

"I can't think at all now that you've come into my life. You consume my every thought, my every emotion. I'm utterly obsessed with you, my darling." His voice was low, heavy with smoke and need as he brought his mouth nearer mine. "Tell me you'll stay and I can ravage you in the way you deserve."

My skin tingled and core warmed, alight with arousal as I breathed him in, our mouths reeled in yet pulled away in some torture of a dance. "I can't." It was a feeble reply and though I was still sore, I wanted him to.

"You wound me." He released a breath. "What did you come here for this morning, if not to tempt me with your luscious thighs. "

I pressed them together at his mere mention. "Sam. She saw me coming in early this morning. She knows."

Ambrose inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing. "I hadn't realized she was so astute. Do you trust her?"

"I do, but she said everyone knows. That they can tell just from how we look at one another."

"Is it so obvious then? Fuck . You may become more of a problem than I anticipated." He squeezed the flesh of my ass and pulled me against his hips where his rigid erection protruded from its prison. That glorious mouth came to my neck, trailing kisses until he reached my earlobe which he nipped.

I desperately needed to ask him about what I'd heard before I lost my train of thought altogether. He was so good at consuming me.

"What is the society your father spoke about?" I blurted.

Ambrose pulled back, stricken.

"I'm sorry?"

"When I was in your office, I swear I wasn't eavesdropping, but I overheard him talking about white doves and a society you're to inherit with the university." I admitted, gripping his forearms. "What was he talking about?"

"I don't know, you misheard." He spun, heading back into his office, with short and restrained steps.

I followed.

"Don't lie to me, Ambrose. I know that Oakwood has a secret society, and that's all I can think it is! There's no record of it, of course, but I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're not." He sat in his chair, shuffling through a thick pile of papers. "I don't have any answers for you."

I leaned over his desk, willing him to look at me. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying. Go to lunch, I'll see you at the library this evening." He opened his red pen and flipped the first page of a paper to grade.

"Ambrose. Please , you can trust me. If you're a part of the society, I won't tell anyone, I just want to know what it is and if it has anything to do with the person I keep seeing." I pleaded.

His hand trembled as he removed his glasses to clean their smudged lenses with the bottom of his vest. "Go on, Vivan. I'll see you later."

"Please."

"Vivian."

"He said you were supposed to inherit it—is that what it's called? White Dove? I just want to?—"

"Enough!" Ambrose stood, his hands slammed on the desk and I jerked back in surprise. "Enough. This is not a discussion I am having with you. You do not need to worry about what you heard. Now please, go ."

The budding warmth in my chest was doused. Something sour choked in my throat and as the emotion built there, I turned without so much as a word.

I didn't go to the dining hall, too sick to my stomach to even attempt eating anything. I didn't try to find Sam, though she was surely next on my list. Ambrose's silence only made me more curious and if anyone else on this campus could answer my questions, it might just be the jock looking for me last night.

I went for Walt.

Damp leaves scattering the walk squelched beneath my Mary Janes. I made my way to the buildings on the southwest side of campus where the lacrosse players were stationed for easy access to their field. Students buzzed about the Halloween Gala being held next month, almost every single group I past was discussing their costume choice instead of fretting over midterms in the next couple weeks.

I couldn't blame them, though. Midterms were the farthest thing from my mind, unfortunately. The very idea of a secret society being uncovered consumed me. I needed to know more, to piece together this weird puzzle that hung vaguely in the air around me.

Pattinson House came into view, a sprawling 1800s abode with all the glorious charm of the time. The maple trees that stood guard outside the front doors were nearly shed of their stunning Autumn coat, dulled orange leaves brushed together and released themselves as a gust of wind gave them flight.

The skunk scent of marijuana greeted me even before I opened the door and old Blink-182 shook the windows with a startling rattle.

Walter , I rolled my eyes.

I tromped up the stairs, past the young men in the common living area and toward the source of the smell and noise. My fist met the door with a sharp bang, scarcely audible over the music.

"Walt!" I yelled, throwing my arm into another knock. "Open up!" I jiggled the knob, cool under my hand, with a rough shake. " Walter! "

He tore open the door, a tightly rolled joint hanging from his mouth without care. His eyes were red and puffy and the smoke billowed out of the room from behind him.

"The fuck, Viv?" he accosted. The cherry of his joint burned bright as he pulled. Walt blew the thick smoke into my face, a sweet strain from the smell of it. With both hands on his chest, I shoved him into the bedroom and slammed the door behind us.

He didn't have a moment to react, simply falling onto his bed which I noticed was a full rather than a twin. Lucky. His room was about the same size as mine, full of little bits of him—a collection of lacrosse gear, rumpled clothes strewn haphazardly, and an acoustic guitar I didn't know he had. I opened his dorm window to let out some of his hot boxed smoke and pressed the power button on his Bluetooth speaker with too much aggression, but goddamn him.

The sudden silence was deafening.

My heart stayed racing after Ambrose's blatant rejection and Walt being in here, high and detached from everything, irritated me.

"What's your problem?" he asked, tipping his ashes into a solo cup on the windowsill. I snatched the joint from his fingers and took my own hit. Whatever he had wasn't mid-grade shit; it was citrusy and lovely, dizzying with a single hit.

"My problem, Walter Blackfield Jr , is you. " I tamped the joint in the red cup.

"I wasn't done with that," he grumbled, flopping onto his back.

"I think you were."

"You sound like Mother."

"And you sound like an ass. What the fuck were you doing looking for me in the middle of the night?" The mattress sagged under my weight as I sat beside him.

"I didn't go looking for you last night." Walt rolled onto his side and the springs creaked.

"Sam said some jock asked for me, I assumed that was you." My brows pinched.

"Believe it or not, Vivian, if I wanted to get ahold of you, I'd at least text or something." His eyes narrowed. "Unlike some people."

"Then who was looking for me last night?" Unease washed over me in a wave of trepidation.

"Where were you? Clearly not at home. "

"I—I was at home."

"If you were then you'd know who was looking for you." Walt sat up, his arm resting on his knee. There was a mischievous glint in his eye which was only highlighted from his high, as if he'd caught me stealing a cookie from the jar and could use it as leverage with Mom and Dad.

"Stop that." I gave him a weak punch, the weed had begun to work its magic and steadily brought me back down to earth. God, I could nearly take a full breath for once. "I was with Dr. Wilder."

Walt paled, his face draining of all color and his eyes wide as the moon.

"What?"

"I was with Dr. Wilder." I repeated.

"Which Dr. Wilder?"

"Ambrose—Jesus, I mean, my professor. Not the president." I scrubbed my face with my palms. "Why does it matter? I wasn't out late."

"You said they came looking in the middle of the night, Viv. That's late."

"I don't feel like being lectured about what's late, not right now." Not at all, even. Especially with the fact that Ambrose usually did the lecturing on lateness.

Walt exhaled, his shoulders sagging. "I'm glad you weren't home."

Curiosity piqued once more. "Why's that?"

"I…" His wide blue eyes met mine and sometimes, it was like looking in a mirror. "I can't tell you. But just know that it was probably a good thing."

"You can't do that. You can't say some ominous shit and expect me to just take it at face value. Do you know something?"

He stayed silent.

Frustration was flamed by his silence, a tight and uncomfortable burn that had me feeling helpless. And I thought of Ambrose, of what I'd heard in his office yesterday morning, of how he shut me down today.

I looked at my brother, his color scarcely recovered over his cheekbones. His eyes were sunken, purple underneath even in his high, and his stubble scattered over his young jawline as if he hadn't shaved in days. He still looked…exhausted. A shell of his normal self.

And he hadn't been speaking to me really at all.

"You know what it is," I said, coming to stand. "I know you do."

"What are you on about now, Vivian?" Walt rolled his eyes.

"White Dove."

Those eyes cut to me, hard as stone and unyielding, a fucking dead giveaway. "I don't know what that is." His lips thinned and his temple pulsed.

"You're lying." I couldn't stop the smile of triumph. I knew this bastard as well as I knew myself. "Is it Oakwood's secret society? Tell me now!"

"I. Don't know. What. You're. Talking about."

"Stop lying to me!" I threw my hands out, palms up, in desperation. "Ambrose lied to me, now you're lying, I can't do this! I heard President Wilder say something about a dove being chosen, and a society, and Ambrose inheriting it, I?—"

He came to his feet fast, throwing his hand over my mouth. "Shut up, Vivian. I'm serious. Shut. Up."

My protest was muffled under his large hand which still bore the scent of weed.

"You're treading extremely dangerous waters here, little sister. And if you love me, as your brother, I'm asking you to shut up and stay out of it. Alright?" The plea in his eyes overtook every sense of stress, expressing only his anguish.

His next words were barely audible, hushed and tight. "I'm going to remove my hand now, but I need you to promise me you'll shut. Up. I won't ask you what the fuck you were doing with Dr. Wilder last night if you promise me to stay quiet."

I nodded reluctantly, fear turning to tears behind my eyes.

"Okay, please, shh." Walt pealed his hand from my mouth. "Thanks for stopping by, Viv," he said more loudly with a false cheerfulness.

"Are you in trouble, Walt?" I whispered sharply.

"Next time, make sure you text alright?" He flicked the Bluetooth back on, blasting his music while he dug the roach from inside the plastic cup.

He lit the end of it, puffing away his worries as I watched dumbstruck.

And something in it sent alarm bells blaring. Something fishy was going on, something that haunted Walt and made him feel as though he wasn't safe.

I wasn't safe.

I chewed on my lip with a racing heart and as my brother slouched onto his bed, I left.