Page 8 of The Wallflower

When they disappear inside, something close to irritation pricks at my skin. I could go in there, grab a tray, and pile it full of food. I could then plop down in a seat beside her, terrorize her with whispers in her ear, or watch from a distance, letting her know I’m close by and that there isn’t a fucking thing she can do about it. It sounds like a fun time, but I do everything I can to limit my time on campus. It's hard enough pretending while I attend classes and even harder when my patience is as thin as it is at this very moment.Your family name and image are the most important things. Don’t fuck it up.I can hear my father’s deep, angry voice in my mind, almost as if he’s standing right beside me speaking the words.

You got lucky this time, Maybel.

With the knowledge that I’ll be seeing her again real soon, I turn and start the short walk to the other side of campus. The crisp air carries with it a slight bite of cold. Fall is upon us, and winter will be here soon. I welcome the fresh air and take the time while walking to clear my head. It’s only about a mile walk to my family's estate, which butts against the school campus.

Right now, a couple of my closest friends and I live here. Of course we use the old Mill House for meetings, but those have been few and far between with everyone's busy schedules. Every year in October, we hold The Hunt. The one big event has been a tradition on school grounds for over a hundred years. The original hunt was nothing more than a glorified game of hide-and-seek back in the twenties.

It wasn’t until ten years ago that changes took place, making the event that much more elusive and popular. Every year, we strive to outdo the year before, and this year will be the first where we have no rules. Everything goes. If you accept the invitation and show up, you agree to those terms. Every year, fifty men and women, mostly Mill members, those members who were inducted into the society the previous year, are picked to be a part of the event. It means the new members, those who are inducted after the start of the year, after The Hunt, don’t get to participate, but..tough shit.

In the past, I’ve grown bored. It’s always the same girls and the same fake screams.

This year will be different, though, I know it. I can feel it in my bones. My family has been at the center of The Mill since it was founded three generations ago. I’m determined to make my time as president legendary. Hell, it already is when college students from other damn states beg to come to our public-facing events. If only they knew what happened in the shadows.

For now, I need to focus on the present. All I have to do is ensure Maybel makes it to the event, and then I can let myself go. I can experience the event for what it’s supposed to be. Ahead of me is the house. My feet crunch across the packed gravel drive to the old Victorian mansion. Back in the day, the house had been built by the dean of the school, then a couple years later, my great-grandfather acquired the place for his own personal and debauched use.

He wanted a home away from home for his eclectic activities, hosting illegal alcohol parties in the basement for the other high-profile students on campus. My grandfather had specific tastes, and I’d heard a number of stories from my father about the fuck fests that took place on these grounds. Unsurprisingly, it all started during the Roaring Twenties.

The wrought-iron gates open as I approach them, and I jog up the other side of the driveway to the landing and front door. The heavy wooden door creaks as I open it and slip beneath the Gothic arches. Stained glass and polished dark wood greet me, and the spicy scent of cinnamon tickles my nose.

Patty hobbles out of the kitchen and into the main entry, greeting me with a smile and a plate of cookies. She looks as she does every day, wearing the maid’s uniform my father provides all the help with. Her thinning dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand out of place. "Andrew, sweetie, take a cookie. They’re snickerdoodles, your favorite.”

My immediate response is to tell her to fuck off, but I pause. Now don’t get me wrong, Patty is a nice lady. In fact, she’s the closest thing to a grandma that I have, but small talk with my father’s staff is my least favorite thing. I’d rather gouge my eyes out than engage in a conversation that will most likely end up being repeated back to my father, becoming our next topic of discussion. Therefore, I simply smile and snag one from the plate she offers me and then another for later.

With a weathered smile of her own, she pats my arm and walks off, probably to offer the others the same cookies. That seems to be her life mission: stuffing us full of her delicious food. Otherwise, besides laundry, stocking the fridge, and cleaning, she leaves us to ourselves, especially during Mill business.

I climb up the wide circular staircase two steps at a time. At the top of the stairs is a landing that leads down a long hallway.Each side of the hall has numerous doors that lead to a number of bedrooms and bathrooms. And at the very end of the hall is my room.

The first room I come upon is Sebastian’s. Sebastian prefers silence to conversation and usually keeps his door closed, so color me surprised when I see it propped open. I pop my head through the doorway and find him sitting on the edge of his bed, a cookie in his mouth as he turns the page of a paperback. One glance at him and you would assume he’s all looks, with his perfectly moussed hair, devilish smile, and haunting green eyes, but contrary to popular belief, he’s smart as hell. I assume it’s from all the reading he does. We’ve known each other since grade school, and there's never been a time when I haven’t seen him carrying around some type of book. If he doesn’t understand something, he researches it until he does.

I gesture to the book. "You can read. When did that happen?"

Without missing a beat, he launches the cookie at my face. I catch it midair and shove it into my mouth. His eyes promise murder and destruction, but all I do is shake my head. Sebastian is many things—monster, asshole, crazy son of a bitch, and believe me, he is all those things and more, but he’s also loyal, determined, and the closest thing to family I have.

“Thanks!” I say around a mouthful of food.

“If you spent more time spreading pages in books instead of spreading legs, you might be half as smart as me.” The murderous look disappears from his eyes, but the usual aura of depraved darkness surrounding him clings to the air.

Everyone thinks I’m fucked up, but no one knows fucked up like Sebastian. While my own childhood has been shitty as hell, it looks pretty damn great compared to his. Either way, showing pity or apologizing for the past doesn’t make sense. We can’t change it, but sometimes I wish I could tell him it will be okay. That he’ll come through all of this on the other side. Hisattention slips back to the book, and I meander into the room, dragging my fingers across the bookshelf near the door.

“Spreading legs is more entertaining,” I quip, tossing myself into an old armchair near his bed. I prop my feet up on the edge of the bed, my dirty boots resting on his gray comforter.

“Seriously? Where are your manners?” He shakes his head and glares icy daggers through me. “You might be my best friend, but you have five seconds to tell me what the hell you want before I toss you out of my room.”

Before I can mutter a response, he shoves my feet off the bed and wipes at the comforter like I’ve ruined it in some way. We have a washer for a reason.

“Sorry, I left my manners at the front door.” I laugh and continue. “I’m here on official Mill business. I need to know the specifics of the plan for tomorrow night so I can put some precautionary measures into place."

The muscles in his jaw flex and jump. "Weird. I thought you asked me to plan the events this year. I’ve made certain everything is done, and you’re either questioning me to see if I’ve completed everything or attempting to oversee my work. In which case, if that’s what this is, you can fuck off and jump down the cliffs. I’ve spent hours planning this event and sending invitations out. Friendship or not, I won’t be questioned by you."

The cliffs being the far edge of the property complete with our own personal waterfall. Joke’s on him—I've been jumping off that ledge since I was a kid.

"I’m not questioning you or trying to oversee you. Everything is fine, but my inner control freak needs more information. Especially since I found someone worth chasing for the event.”

He stares at me, studying me, no doubt seeing the gleam in my eyes that's been dead for a while. "Consider me curious, who is she?”

"Who she is doesn’t really matter. She wouldn’t even tell me her name. As soon as I'm done here, I’m going to talk to Lee and have him gather some intel for me. I’ll use whatever information I can find to keep her compliant. I just need some ammunition first.”

“Hmm. Last we talked, you were going to the library to get your paper from that thieving nerd. You couldn’t even find the non-fiction books in the library. How the hell did you find this girl?”

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