Page 18 of Deck of Scarlets

Panicked that she might have caught me red-handed with her stuff, I placed everything back the way I found it and hid it under her bed as the door opened behind me.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she questioned.

“I uh… dropped the cap to the perfume,” I admitted, trying to come off nonchalantly.

“Forget it. We’ll find it later.” The nervous tenor in her voice was a red flag that I couldn’t ignore. She didn’t want me to look under her bed, and if she didn’t know about me…

Her eyes flicked back and forth from my face to her bed. “Seriously, Remi. It’s fine. Leave it.”

I got up off the floor, not wanting to push her. “Okay, that’s fine.” I could have told her right then. Told her everything about my invitation, but her nervous demeanor was enough to keep the secret. Enough to find out exactly how important The Order of the Scarlet Quill was.

Chapter Eight

The walk to the University Hall had become awkward. I contemplated as we crossed the college path whether to finally come clean and tell Heather or let it die on the tip of my tongue. The more I thought about it, the more things started to piece together.

There was a good chance they placed the ones invited in the same room, so nothing was exposed. Apparently, it was a tight-lipped society that now had my curiosity piqued, and as much as I would rather stick to avoiding the abundance of clubs begging for recruits, there was no harm in finding out.

Fucking fantastic.

Call it a hunch, but I instantly knew who to ask. I just hoped he was here tonight.

We entered the building under a decorative balloon arch of the school colors; blue and white. The school mascot, Roar-eee the lion, was leaning casually against the wall, talking to one of the many photographers of tonight’s event. A hearty welcome sign hung just above, blowing softly in the summer breeze.

Crowds of freshmen covered the event room from wall to wall. At the back were six tables adorned with fancy tablecloths, which displayed silver trays overflowing with fancy school food. Long blue and white drapes hung from the ceiling, and soon, Roar-eee was dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

Some weird techno music thumped for background noise, while others around us chatted and gushed over who had the best summer. The further we traveled inside, the more chaotic it got. A group of young men started a beer pong game, screaming and high fiving one another whenever one of them scored. A few girls set up a karaoke machine, and others were left mingling in small groups, while the RAs and upper-class students ensured we had drinks and something to eat.

A random guy came over, I assumed one of the RAs, and handed Heather and me a red solo cup with weird red liquid.

“Uh, thanks,” I said. It had a bubbly look to it. Most likely, they gave us some carbonated beverage.

Before he could disappear, Heather grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back with such force he almost knocked the drink out of her hand. “Um, is there alcohol in this?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Some of the teaching staff are present, so we couldn’t spike the punch.” He left us staring at our cups in the middle of the room.

“Don’t like alcohol?” I teased, taking a sip of mine. The flavor tasted of cherry with a sour kick; it was rather enjoyable and reminded me of one of the many birthday parties I attended as a kid, which ended with me crashing on the couch from the sugar rush.

“I just can’t have alcohol while on anxiety medication,” she stated. Heather’s mouth hesitated on the lip of her cup, afraid to believe the RA.

“There’s none. You’re fine,” I assured her.

The panic on her face began to subside slightly. “You sure?”

“Yes. I do know what alcohol tastes like.” I laughed.

“Well, good. I’m glad you’re here to let me know.” Heather then went ahead and drank from her cup, looking relieved when she finished.

Just then, a woman with dark hair and wearing a purple skirt and white blouse held a mic to her mouth, trying to get the crowd’s attention. “Hello! I’m Jordan Reiner, and welcome to this year’s freshman mixer!”

Everyone cheered around us as I drank more from my cup, completely over this night already. Jeremy and Nickie would be spiking the punch and trying to play strip poker somewhere exclusive.

“Tonight is all about mingling with each other, getting to know the faculty, and understanding the importance of being a Lion!”

More cheering and whistling erupted in the room, with some frat guys behind us hollering like animals.

“Please, enjoy the food, drinks, and party games! At the end of the night, each of you will get a bag of goodies to help you survive your first semester here at Columbia University! Thank you again for listening, and have fun!” she finished.

Everyone gave her one more cheer until she stepped out of view.

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