Chapter Text
Click.
Soft yellow light pours in from the single window in the center of the far cinder block wall as Violet lets the door behind her slowly shut. From the acrid smell that practically singed her nostrils, the thick white paint had just been freshly slathered on the bricks. Bulbous drips are frozen in time against the windowsill and outlets.
The joys of underclassmen dorms.
“Looks like your roommate has already been here,” her older sister observes, surveying the room with her signature calculating gaze. A purple comforter set is crumpled on the rightmost bed, along with a smattering of hastily-taped cardboard boxes across the desk and dresser. “What was her name again? Rhianna?”
“Rhiannon,” Violet corrects her sibling as she turns to the moving cart they had barely fit through the door. It's stacked precariously with boxes of her most precious belongings and clothes. “Mira, I can unload everything else. I know you’re busy, and you’ve really done enough for me today.” Her sister had always been overly protective of her, and never knew when her job was done.
Mira hoists a heavy box full of books into her arms and sets them gingerly on the desk. Annoyingly, she doesn't acknowledge Violet’s comment. “You have three more equally large boxes of these books in the cart. Where in the world are you going to put them in this small-ass room?” The woman picks up a book off the top of the box, bulging open from the sheer volume of titles, and thumbs through it.
“They’re Dad’s,” Violet explains, snatching the book out of her sister’s hands and placing it on the too-small bookshelf on the desk.
God, she did not know how to take no for an answer. Or leave, for that matter.
“I wasn’t about to leave them at the house and let Mom do who-knows-what with them. Did you hear me? I said that you can go.”
Mira steps around the shorter Sorrengail, taking a plastic storage full of bedsheets and pillow covers in her hands and marching to the bed. With a flourish of her arms, the mattress protector comes unraveled and she gets to work, fitting the corners over the bed. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says matter-of-factly. As she turns to put her hand on Violet’s shoulder, her eyes soften. “Plus, Brennan was the one who helped me move in. He would have wanted to help you, too.”
Violet blinks, her chest nearly bottoming out, and swallows hard at the mention of their late eldest sibling. Brennan. It was rare that she heard his name anymore, especially since their father died.
Mom makes sure of that.
Leave it to Mira to manipulate her into winning an argument.
She huffs sharply. “Alright, you win. Are you happy?” The fire she felt in her chest had been smothered like an old campfire. She had gotten good at turning off her more vulnerable emotions, as though she only had to slam a door in her mind to cut them off at the source.
Mira smiles. “Yes, in fact, I am.”
As the two finish smoothing the ruffled yellow comforter over top of the sheets, Mira tosses her a pillow and its corresponding case. Violet had almost gotten the zipper closed when she notices Mira went still, boring a hole into Violet’s skull with her intense gaze. Her skin prickles on the back of her neck.
“What?” Violet asks defensively.
“Nothing, I just… can I ask you to do me a favor?” Mira says. It was rare that Violet saw her sister so unsure. Goosebumps spread from her neck down her pale arms as she nods.
“You should find Dain after orientation." She sways slightly and crumples the pillowcase on the bed. “You know he’s back from Europe, right?”
Violet gasps quietly, her eyes lighting up with Mira’s words. “No – I mean, I didn’t know he was back already!” Dain, her childhood best friend. Just a year older than her, she hadn’t seen him since he left a year ago to start his medical degree with a year studying abroad in Europe. Memories of their last encounter flood her mind, but are quickly stamped out when Mira speaks again.
“He has a classmate – Xaden Riorson. They’ve been having… problems, and you should stay away from him, too.”
Riorson… Why does that name seem so familiar? Violet racks her brain.
And then, understanding hits her like a ton of bricks.
“Riorson… like Fen Riorson?” she asks incredulously.
“His son. He goes here too – he’s a legacy, same as us. His father is a huge donor to the university. But you know what happened with Brennan, and Mom –”
Before Mira could finish her thought, the door opens abruptly, hitting the side of the metal moving cart with a thud. Violet snaps her gaze to the intruder and instinctively moves to steady the contents of the cart as Mira falls silent.
“You must be Violet!” says the girl, who is obviously Rhiannon. She rushes in, not seeming to notice the swaying of the boxes. The room is awash in yellow afternoon light again when the hallway lights are cut off. Violet tenses as the girl throws her arms around her. Rhiannon is much taller than her, which isn't really saying a lot considering Violet stands at a measly five-foot-nothing.
Rhiannon pulls back a bit as Mira cracks a smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess you’re not much of a hugger. I probably should have asked.” She sticks her right hand out. “I’m Rhiannon.”
Violet’s neck flushes as Mira laughs, giving Rhiannon an embarrassingly wimpy handshake which Mira quickly overshadows with her own solid shake. “She’s just uptight,” Mira says cheerfully, “but I promise she’s not always a bitch. I’m her older sister, Mira.”
Violet delivers a hard jab to her side for that comment.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” she responds to Rhiannon. If she's going to be stuck at Basgiath for the next four years, she might as well try to make some friends. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”
“Oh yeah, and it’s even better to know that you don’t seem like a serial killer!” Rhiannon says, causing Violet to smile uneasily and Mira to quirk a brow. “My mom has been very paranoid about me leaving for college." That was enough for Violet to laugh for the first time since she stepped foot on the mossy cobbled walkways of Basgiath.
She already feels her walls lowering quite a bit. It only makes her slightly nervous -- Rhiannon is much nicer than she expected out of a randomly-assigned roommate.
Half an hour later, Violet finds herself, her sister, and her new roommate (friend?) engrossed in conversation while they each unpack their boxes.
She could almost forget the conversation she and her sister had been having, if not for Mira’s apprehensive demeanor. In any case, Violet had banished Mira to sit on the edge of her bed after she failed to put the books on the shelf in the proper order of the Dewey Decimal system.
“Wait, so your mom is the Attorney General? Of, like, the country?” Rhiannon asks, mouth agape as she arranges a handful of small figurines of various mythological creatures on her bookshelf. She shakes her head. “I bet you guys could get away with anything.”
Both Sorrengails scoff simultaneously, as if they thought the same thing: that had to be a joke. Violet doesn't want her new friend getting the wrong idea about her mother, and rolls her eyes before responding.
“The opposite, really. In fact, I think she would make sure our punishment was worse than the crime.” That was definitely not exaggerated. If Lilith Sorrengail cares about anything, it's her reputation, and that unfortunately includes the reputations of her children. It's a fact Violet has known from a young age. Since then, she had learned to just try to keep her head down and stay out of anything that could be mistaken as trouble.
Rhiannon whistles. “She sounds hardcore.”
“She needs to be,” Mira cuts in. Ever so quick to defend their mother. “Trust me, law is cutthroat, especially as a woman. When you’re up in front of a whole country like Mom is, shit gets worse.” Violet eyes her sister as she jumps the couple of feet off the raised bed and smooths out her pantsuit. “Which, speaking of, I unfortunately do have to get back to Seattle.”
Violet smiles sadly and leapt into her sister’s arms, glad the boot-licking of her mother was over. As much as she was begging Mira to leave earlier, she suddenly didn’t want to let go.
“Give Mr. Aetos hell,” she says. Practically their uncle, Mr. Aetos was really a family friend, with Violet and his son, Dain, being raised almost side-by-side. Mira was lucky enough to get a paid internship at his firm in Seattle. A little nepotism? Maybe… but Mira was as smart as they come, and worked her ass off for that position. Graduated from Basgiath at the top of her class. No one questioned it after meeting her.
“Have a good orientation week,” she says, rocking Violet gently back and forth in her arms. A pang hits her chest as they broke apart and she wishes they could have lingered a touch longer. “You too, Rhiannon. It was nice to meet you.”
Rhiannon flashes a smile, and Mira spins out the door with a wave.
Violet’s smile falls with the click of the door, and she throws herself back on the bed. The thought of carrying conversation without her sister is exhausting. It’s not that she doesn't like Rhiannon, but being introverted had always been her tendency. It had been years since there was anyone other than herself and occasionally her mother living in the cavernous lake house in North Olympia.
“So… have you gotten around to meeting our floormates? Or am I the first lucky one to make your acquaintance?” Rhiannon teases. She sits across the room on her bed, facing Violet expectantly.
“Aside from any classmates I met at entrance exams, you’re the first,” Violet says, and then adds: “I can’t even remember their names, anyway, so they don’t count… I guess you win. Speaking of, what’s your major?”
Rhiannon laughs, the beads in her dark hair glinting in the light with her movement. “You’re funny, Sorrengail. I’m a political science major. I’m not sure what I want to do with it, though. Maybe work in politics, run for office if the opportunity presents itself…” She trails off and fixes her eyes intently on Violet, who had turned her head to face the girl while still laying on the bed. “Lemme guess. You are… an English major.”
“Nope,” Violet says with a smile. She could understand the confusion with the amount of books she had only just begun unpacking.
Rhiannon chews her lip. “History? Business? No, architecture?”
Violet sits up with a grin. “Music,” she says, “and history, so you’re half right.”
“I knew it!” Rhiannon pumps her fist in the air. “You play an instrument?”
“Yeah, piano. Since I was five.” It's the one thing her body seemed capable of doing really well, given that normal movement irritates her joints to no end and she lives in a constant state of chronic pain due to her Ehlers-Danlos syndrome diagnosis. It's also one of the last things connecting her to her brother, since he was the one that encouraged her to continue with lessons even when it felt hard to get out of bed most days.
Rhiannon whistles. Violet observes that she does that a lot. “I always wanted to take guitar lessons, but we couldn’t afford it. Don’t feel bad for me though, I clearly found other things that I was interested in.” A loose wave of her arm draws Violet’s attention to the figurines posters on her desk.
“Are those…” She struggles with remembering the name of what she was thinking of. Something dragons.
“Dungeons and Dragons,” Rhiannon finishes for her. She grins with pride. “I’ve got quite the collection started. I think the rest of it is at my house, but I’ll get those later. There was only so much I could fit in my car.” She picks up a vicious-looking dragon that is painted green. “This was one from my last session with my friends back home. I named her Feirge. It means ‘anger’ in Gaelic.”
Violet leans forward, admiring the attention to detail on the dragon. It couldn’t have been larger than her fist, but it was clearly painted with expert precision. The light catches the golden eyes of the dragon, giving it the appearance of winking at her.
“Anyway,” Rhiannon says, setting the dragon down beside her, “do you want to try to find a spot to eat? It’s two now, and the opening ceremony isn’t until five.”
Violet swings her legs down and leaps to the floor. Her ankle pops under the pressure of the sudden weight, and she lightly winces. Damn my weak-ass joints, she thinks, but succeeds in biting back her grimace. No need to make her new roommate — friend? — worry about her already. “Sure. I’m not picky. I think the mess hall is just down the road.”
“Yay!” Rhiannon says, grabbing her purse from the desk chair. “If there’s a piano down there, maybe you can give me dinner and a show.” The girl winks at Violet and enters the hallway.
“Riiight,” Violet drawls. She grins as she follows Rhiannon through the door. So far, her first day has exceeded her expectations. An easy move-in and nice roommate are more than she could ever ask for. The thought comes to her quietly. Timidly.
Maybe I’ll like it here.
Orientation is held in a large, old, stone amphitheater on the edge of campus, toward the forest that borders the east side. It surveys a large, neatly-manicured field which, if Violet remembers correctly, used to be the old football field when Basgiath University was first built in the thick woods of western Washington. Since then, it had amassed quite a bustling college town, if a bit small.
America’s Oxford, people had coined it.
The nearly 1,500 freshmen that had been admitted to Basgiath this year are steadily filing in, filling up row after row. Violet and Rhiannon had gotten there quite a bit early, earning them a seat in one of the frontmost rows. It turned into a problem quickly given how damn hard the August sun was beating down. After a mere twenty minutes of sitting, Violet can already feel her skin sizzling.
“Fuck, you already look sunburned,” Rhiannon says. Her face is etched with concern. “You want my bag to cover yourself with?”
She had already started emptying her tote bag onto the stone bench when Violet shakes her head. “I’m fine, it’s my fault for wearing a tank top. Look, clouds are coming in, anyway,” she says, shielding her eyes and pointing to a thick wall of clouds on the horizon that must have been sent by some higher power to save her.
“Girl, you stress me out,” Rhiannon laughs and tilts her face back to soak up the sun on the dark skin of her chest. The pink and purple beads clink together before her braids settle.
Before Violet could retort, a shadow overtakes her and she was suddenly being swooped up to her feet and into someone’s arms – the second time that day she had been given a nonconsensual hug. Seriously, is it her size that makes people think they can just manhandle her?
But this time, she recognizes the earthly, soapy scent imbued into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, the warm, strong arms that wrap around her and hug her like he was never going to let go…
“Dain!” she cries. Her tension dissipates with the motion of flinging her arms around his neck. “I missed you so fucking much.” Her voice is muffled as she buries her face in his chest and breathes him in, squeezing her eyes shut.
He pulls back and holds her around the waist with a smile. “Violet! God, it’s been so long. Did you… dye your hair?” He takes the silvery end of her braid in his hand and traces his eyes up, following the ombre that fades back to brunette halfway toward her scalp.
“Um, yeah,” she says nervously, taking her hair back and smoothing it down over her shoulder. “I just wanted a change, I guess. And maybe to piss Mom off.”
Dain laughs at her comment, his eyes sparkling. His skin is a few shades darker than it had been when she last saw him, a side effect of spending his summer probably oiled up on the beaches of Greece somewhere, if she knew Dain.
“How was Europe?” she asks. They had communicated as much as they could, but it was hard when the man didn’t want to pay for an international data plan and kept himself so damn busy with his coursework.
She bites the inside of her cheek, not letting herself consider what other things he might have been occupied with in Europe.
“Oh, it was awesome,” he says. “I got to see so many places and study with so many amazing professors. You and I have to go sometime. You would love seeing all of the architecture and history in those cities.”
Violet feels her neck flushing once more, something that she had come to expect with Dain the last few years. Despite being practically raised as cousins, it was clear very early on that her fat crush on him was not going away, and it didn’t help that he only seemed to get more attractive the older they got. The new tan and short, defined beard are just an added plus of his foray to Europe.
“Yeah, that would be a dream!” she smiles at him. Violet startles when she remembers Rhiannon behind her. “Oh, by the way, this is my roommate, Rhiannon.”
Rhiannon moves her head to peek around Violet and wave sweetly at Dain.
“Oh, I know,” he says, giving her a nod. At Violet’s confused look, he furrows his brows and clarifies: “You do know I’m your guys’ RA, right?”
Violet raises her eyebrows. No, I did not. Admittedly, her stomach sinks a little bit at the thought that her best friend is going to be the person enforcing curfew, conducting room checks…
If anyone is a hardass about the rules, it's Dain Aetos.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. RA,” Rhiannon says. “You can call me Rhi.”
“Okay, Rhi! I actually also managed to track down a couple of the other freshmen on our side of the floor,” he says. Turning and facing the incline of the amphitheater, he waves into the crowd and gestures until three men stand up and make their way down the steps.
“Rhi, Violet, these are Liam Mairi, Jack Barlowe, and Ridoc Gamlyn,” Dain introduces.
They each wave as Dain gestures to them. Violet notices Jack’s stillness, his face not quite exuding friendliness. In fact, he looks like he’d rather be dead than standing there.
Liam is tall, with tousled blonde hair that falls over his face in a wavy side part. His bright blue eyes and toothy grin are enough to elicit a smile from Violet involuntarily. The man radiates sunshine in the best of ways. “Hiya! Nice to meet you.”
“Mairi here and I are roommates,” the one with brown curls introduced as Ridoc says, slinging an arm over the blond’s shoulder. “Of course, I’m Ridoc.” He chews his gum and sends a wink to Rhi, who rolls her eyes and flips her sunglasses back down.
Jack is Liam's opposite. He doesn't offer a single friendly gesture. He instead fixes a cold look onto each of them. “Hopefully, we won’t see each other much. I’m rushing.”
His icy blue eyes fix onto Violet and... harden? Is he seriously glaring at her? Her skin pricks as she steels her own expression in response.
Jack's jaw ticks.
Breaking the stare, he nods to Dain and turns his back to make his way to the other side of the stadium.
And that’s it, Violet thinks. A smug asshole like him was not going to get the satisfaction of intimidating her, even if she's head and shoulders shorter than him.
“Is he usually like that?” she asks, making the disdain in her voice clear.
“A dick? So far, yeah." Ridoc clambers over the stone bench and into the seat next to Violet. “Just ignore him and his roommate. They're your run-of-the-mill douchebags.”
Dain chuckles uneasily and shifts his weight. He always does that when he is anxious and wants to change the subject. “So… yeah, that’s almost everyone on the floor. There’s a few other freshmen that should be around here somewhere. We also have three sophomores who you’ll meet later.”
Liam hops over and takes a seat next to Ridoc, looking up at Dain and crossing his arms. “Yeah, speaking of, I thought this was a freshman-only thing.” From anyone else, it might have been accusatory, but there was only curiosity from Mairi.
Violet and the others look at Dain expectantly. He stands a bit straighter and purses his lips in a proud smile. “This year, I’m the treasurer of the Basgiath University Student Government Association.” A beat of silence.
“Nice,” Ridoc says. Dain blinks, his shoulders falling slightly.
If there’s one thing Dain loves, it's recognition. In elementary school, it was being the line leader. In high school, it was getting captain of the academic team. Violet knows him better than the back of her own hand, and it's clear he's anticipating some kind of acknowledgement for being on the SGA.
She smiles knowingly at him and grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “Congrats! That’s awesome.”
He beams a sweet smile toward Violet. Cue more neck flushing.
It seems red will be a perpetual state of her skin at Basgiath.
“Which, speaking of, I have to go get ready. The headmaster and the deans are going to be talking to you all, and then we’re heading back to the dorm for floor meetings. I’ll give you all a tour later, if you’ll let me!” Dain waves before heading out of the aisle and down the stairs toward the stage that had been constructed on the field below.
“He looks like he’s going to be up our ass about curfew,” Ridoc groans when Dain is just out of earshot. Violet takes a seat next to him and considers defending Dain, but anything she thinks of dies in her chest. There's no point when it's absolutely true.
“Hey, he seems okay. Plus, I think he and Violet already know each other,” Liam observes, resting his elbows on his knees. He smiles pointedly at her and teases, “Lovers? Ex-lovers?”
“Back off, Mairi,” Rhiannon bites, not even bothering to move from her position as she soaks up the last rays of sun before it slips behind the cloud cover.
“No, Rhi, it’s okay,” Violet says. “He’s been my best friend my whole life. Our parents were coworkers, so we ended up kind of getting raised as cousins.”
“Where at? Alabama?” Ridoc laughs. The comment earns him a glare from Rhiannon, who finally sits up as shade washes over the amphitheater.
“Gamlyn!”
The would-be confrontation between the two is cut short by speakers sputtering to life around the amphitheater, music bouncing off the stone pillars and floors. Basgiath University’s fight song bursts to life, eliciting cheers from the crowd as most of them already knew all of the lyrics. Violet is not one of those.
Stand tall, stand proud, we wear the flame,
With hearts avowed, we claim the name.
Violet keeps her eyes on the stage, the black curtain backdrop opening to spit out an assortment of finely-dressed college deans alongside Headmaster Panchek, who stands with a grim expression — his usual mug. Behind them came what Violet assumes is the Student Government Association. They enter and move to stage right. Dain is accompanied by a woman and two other men, all of them wearing some sort of semi-formal outfit with BU’s ensignia emblazoned on it.
Light the flame, let it burn high!
We chase the stars across the sky.
Any other details are lost to Violet, however, as she stares at the dark-haired male student to Dain’s left, at least half a head taller than her best friend. She had never been one to gawk at anyone’s appearance, but god, did that man beg for her to.
Even from a distance, she can tell his warm-toned physique was all sharp edges and defined contours. His eyes roam the amphitheater as though its occupants are under his command, dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes.
Light the flame, Basgiath true!
Bold of heart and fierce of view.
They suddenly flicker just to Violet’s left, and the corner of his mouth quirks before their gazes suddenly crash together. If Violet had any sense, it's now gone, because she had definitely just been caught burning holes into his gorgeously sculpted face.
And she's still staring.
Her pulse quickens. Did he just cock his head at her? His expression doesn't change from the neutral, bored expression he wore, but is she imagining him looking her up and down?
Why is she still staring?
Raise your voice, let spirits soar,
For Basgiath forevermore!
At the song’s boisterous conclusion, the freshmen student body cheers, the more zealous ones standing and whooping as though they were watching the Basgiath Dragons football team score a touchdown against the University of Poromiel Gryphons themselves.
She doesn't know who breaks eye contact first, but her heart thunders as her focus suddenly shifts toward Headmaster Panchek’s movement on the podium.
What the fuck is wrong with her? That was embarrassing.
The entire exchange had felt like an hour to her, but had barely lasted the length of the fight song.
“Welcome to Basgiath University!” Panchek’s voice booms through the speakers. He places his hands flat on each side of the microphone snaking out of the embossed wood. “Let me be the first to officially welcome you all to the next four years of your professional and educational development.
“Orientation Week is a time-honored tradition at Basgiath. During the next four days, you will discover your place among our challenging and dynamic community. The intellectual experience at Basgiath University is unlike any other; countless world leaders, politicians, and members of high society can trace their beginnings back to our hallowed halls as the United States’ leading Ivy League university.”
Panchek traces his gaze across every row of the amphitheater as he speaks. Violet was grateful for the cloud cover even more, now, as she could actually see the stage without squinting. Dain looks like he's standing at a militaristic attention position. Violet failed to notice before how close the girl next to him is standing; their shoulders are almost brushing.
Her chest twists uncomfortably.
You are not jealous over Dain-fucking-Aetos, she scolds herself.
“And on the other end of the stage, we have our representatives of the Student Government Organization,” Panchek says, sweeping his arm. “President Xaden Riorson, Vice-President Garrick Tavis, Secretary Amber Mavis, and Treasurer Dain Aetos.”
Her world tunnels until it's just her and the stage. Dain and that girl (was she whispering to him?) and… Xaden Riorson.
The very man her sister told her to stay away from.
The longer she lets her eyes flicker back to him, the more she is convinced that the entire interaction was fabricated by her sleep deprivation. It had to be.
In the background of her thoughts, each of the deans of the colleges give a brief word, but she registers nothing.
Rapturous applause snaps Violet out of her stupor, and she stands and claps autonomously. The officers and professors onstage filter back behind the curtain, and the crowd of freshmen begin herding back toward the dorms.
Next to her, Ridoc yawns. “Well, that was boring,” he states. Violet is fairly certain everyone shares the same sentiment, despite her heart feeling like it was coming down from running a marathon. “Hopefully the party tonight is better. I need to get in with some hot upperclassmen ladies.” He clicks his tongue and elbows Liam. The blonde just smiles and rolls his eyes.
“Into cougars, now, are we?” Rhi teases as they shuffle down the amphitheater steps.
“Or just anything that moves,” Violet chimes in, her comment earning a loud cackle from Liam and Rhiannon and a pout from Ridoc. She lets the moment drag her out of the embarrassment still coursing through her system. Together, the three make their way across the field and toward the looming stone buildings of campus once more.
“Alright,” Dain says, closing the door to the second floor lounge. “Thank you all for being here. I hope your first day on campus has been good so far. Let’s just start with roll.” He settles in an armchair and opens a thin binder.
Violet had settled on a long couch with Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Liam. Jack and a man she didn’t recognize lean against the wall nearest the exit, both of them scrolling on their phones and looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. A pair of guys and a pair of women at another couch. At a table sit the other second years Dain had mentioned: Imogen, with her short, pink hair; Sawyer, a skinnier guy with cropped hair; and Bodhi, who sported a darker tan and curly hair.
As Dain calls out each of their names, Violet discovers Jack’s infamous roommate’s name is Oren. Ridoc had been right — Oren seems about as approachable as Jack. Which is to say, not at all. Pryor and Tynan are roommates, and Luca and Aurelie are the final set.
“So, as your RA, I’m responsible for ensuring that you all know the housing rules and that they all get followed. First things first is the curfew,” Dain says, eliciting a scoff from many of the first-years.
“What, so you’re like our mommy?” Oren speaks. “Am I gonna get grounded if I’m late to curfew?” The two of them against the wall laugh like hyenas. Violet officially had the ick.
If Dain was bothered by the comment, he doesn't show it. “Sunday through Wednesday, the curfew is midnight. Thursday through Saturday, it’s two in the morning. I’m not going to check and make sure you’re in your rooms, but the outside doors will lock at curfew and you’ll have to sign in at the desk to be let in,” he explains. “Or get someone inside to let you in. If you start racking up a bunch of sign-ins, you’ll probably get an email from your advisor.
“Next, of course, is quiet hours. On weekdays, quiet hours start at ten PM. On weekend nights, they start at midnight. The walls are cinder block, so you have to be trying really hard to get a noise complaint…”
Dain rattles off the rest of the rules before leading them in an awkward icebreaker where they introduce themselves and shared their favorite PopTart flavor.
As they all got up to leave, Dain catches Violet by her elbow. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
Violet shrugs, her stomach fluttering at Dain’s touch. Stop it, Violet. “I don’t know, I need to practice, and I’m not one for parties,” she says. It was all honest, but deep down she knows that it's still just excuses for her to recluse in her room, unbothered and alone.
“You need to get out at some point,” he says, fixing his hands on each of her arms so she was fully facing toward him. “Plus, I missed you. I want to hang out with you. Promise me you’ll think about it?”
She holds her gaze with him for a moment, chewing her lip before breaking into a slight smile. “Okay, fine. Your way or the highway, Dain Aetos.”
Shockingly, the party does not disappoint.
Violet finds herself being dragged from the great double doors of the dorm into the cooling night air by both Rhi and Ridoc, who possess one of her hands each.
The large courtyard that forms the epicenter of the housing sector of campus is alive with hanging lights, blaring music, food trucks, and various carnival games. It was a feat that they had managed to get all of this set up in the handful of hours between move-in and sunset.
Rhi had raided her closet, and crafted for her an ensemble that consisted of sneakers, ripped denim jeans, and a borrowed black strapless top that was precariously covering her chest and stomach. Her shoulders evidently drew the short end of the stick, the wafting breeze eliciting light goosebumps across her arms. It was definitely not something she would ever wear of her own volition, but Rhi had insisted.
A flash of color catches her eye in the direction of the street, and Violet turns her head to find Imogen, with her bright pink hair, and Bodhi splitting away from the festivities to join two shadowy figures leaning against another building, motorcycles idling.
Riorson and Tavis.
The two men had changed into leather jackets and riding gear, helmets tucked under their arms. Violet breath catches as Xaden pushes off the wall with one foot, running his hands through his tousled hair before tossing his helmet to Bodhi. Imogen takes her own helmet from the seat of one of the motorcycles and slides on behind Garrick, wrapping her hands around his waist. Xaden boards his own monstrous bike, Bodhi riding on his back.
Definitely hot.
As Garrick’s ride revs to life and pulls onto the street, Xaden revs his own, earning a handful of glances from the courtyard at the loud sound. He glances back and gives a small wave in apology, before he sweeps his eyes back toward the street.
Then he makes eye contact with her for the second time that day.
This time, she was able to tear her gaze from him, turning her back to the street.
“Hello? Earth to Violet?” Ridoc says, waving a hand in front of her and causing her to flinch. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” she responds, plastering on a smile and pretending like she wasn't just indulging in her asinine crush. Only a few moments later, she hears the other motorcycle take off and her heartbeat allows itself to slow down. Again.
Rhiannon’s eyes are locked on the street. She has a bemused look on her face that Violet can't quite interpret.
Before she can say anything, hands are on her bare shoulders, causing her to yelp. She spins around and is face-to-face with Dain again. He's beaming as he looks at her.
“I knew you were going to come,” he says. “C’mon, let’s find some food.”
She sees some familiar faces in the crowd, probably from the orientation. The attendees seem to be mostly freshmen and sophomores, but there are clearly upperclassmen also in attendance, a fact they find out as they quickly lose Ridoc and Rhiannon to the dance floor.
The table they pick is more Violet’s speed. She sits with her legs crossed, Dain across from her. Multicolor lights drench his face in color and the loud music makes it hard to focus.
“You really had to pick a table right by the speakers?” she shouts at Dain.
He ignores her protest. Or maybe he can't hear here. Either way, asshole. “I’m going to go get some drinks! I'll be right back!” he shouts back, standing up and heading toward the circle of nearby trucks.
Then she was alone.
As the minutes tick by, there's no sign of Dain. Just bodies filtering past as people mingle. Violet feels more uncomfortable sitting there alone when everyone else is dancing or otherwise being social. Heat works its way up her face. Logically, she knows no one is paying a lick of attention to her, but that doesn't help the feeling that all eyes are judging her specifically.
A cursory glance at the food truck reveals that Dain is very much occupied in a conversation with a bunch of people that she doesn't recognize, but one that she did: Amber Mavis. He doesn't even have drinks in his hand.
Yeah, he's an asshole for sure.
A huff escapes her lips, coming out as a sharp burst of air that flicks the loose strands of her braid out of her face. Whatever. Rhiannon was on the floor. Hopefully she hadn’t found anyone to hook up with yet.
Standing and pushing the chair across the grass, she works her way through the crowd to the densely populated space in front of the DJ booth. Already, spilled drinks had saturated the ground and stirred the dirt into a disgusting sludge. How anyone was having fun in this was lost on her.
She had just caught sight of Rhi’s beaded hair when unfamiliar hands grab her around the waist. Her blood runs cold as her first instinct is to freeze. What the fuck was it with everyone thinking they could touch her today?
The hands begin descending to her ass. Violet tries to jump away, but the crowd makes it nearly impossible, so her next instinct is to start swinging.
She spins so fast she feels her right ankle pop, and her balled up fist connects with someone’s sternum, pain lancing up her forearm. It doesn't do any damage to her assailant, but spinning had broken their contact.
“Get the fuck off of me!” she yells, looking up wildly to see Jack Barlowe’s icy blue eyes staring back at her.
“C’mon, Sorrengail,” he slurs, making another step toward her. He was clearly on something. Her heart hammers in her chest. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it.”
Hyena laughter in her ear behind her. Oren.
Oren’s hands on her waist. Jack pressing in. Had no one heard her fucking scream at him?
“Jack, get away from me,” she says firmly, trying not to let her voice shake. Her hands peel Oren’s off of her and she steps aside the best she could. Surely they wouldn’t chase her if she tries to run?
One more step from Barlowe. That's all the justification she needed. Violet reels her leg back and drives her knee up into him, short enough to be at perfect ball-kicking height. The impact sends pain shooting across her thigh but had the intended effect of dropping Jack to his knees in the filthy mud.
“What the fuck?” Oren growls, eyes flashing from Jack to her. He makes a lunge toward her, causing her to take a step back and bump into someone.
He is only stopped short by Dain throwing out his arm across Violet, stepping in front of her. “Back off!” he booms, getting the attention of anyone nearby. The crowd finally gives them a bit of a berth, but most people still avert their gaze from the situation. “Get the fuck away from her before I file an incident report,” he threatens.
Oren scoffs but quickly retreats at the threat, pushing into Jack’s shoulder as the man rose while clutching his package. He mumbles something inaudible to Jack, and the two stalk their way out of the crowd. Barlowe turns and fixes a deathly look to Violet before disappearing.
She lets out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding, looking up at Dain.
He turns and grabs Violet’s wrist — still throbbing from landing a hit on Barlowe — causing her to seethe with pain as he pulls her the opposite direction out of the crowd. He doesn't notice until they make it to a nearby tree.
“Oh, sorry,” he says, releasing his grip. He relaxes as bit, but his brows are still laced with anger. “Are you okay?”
Violet tugs down Rhiannon’s top, suddenly feeling like she might as well have been naked. She didn’t even notice that Oren had been trying to pull it up her stomach. “Yeah, I’m good,” she lies, tears pricking her eyes. As the adrenaline wears off, she feels the pain in her hand, knee, and ankle even more vividly. Fucking joints.
Dain’s eyes are narrowed, following what she assumed were Jack and Oren through the courtyard. “The guys that they just disappeared with,” he starts, “are bad news. God, if they touch you like that again, I’m filing every report I can think of.”
Violet rubs her knee and winces. Reports would do nothing to help her in the moment. “It’s okay, Dain, seriously. I’ll just avoid them. It’s not like there aren’t cameras in the dorms.”
He turns his brown eyes on her, his gaze softening. “You got a nice hit on his balls, though,” Dain says with a smile. “I would have thought you could take him if Oren wasn’t also there.”
Violet smiles, a tiny amount of pride swelling in her chest. It was a pretty solid kick. It doesn't sate the shame bubbling in her stomach.
And neither does Dain when he next speaks: “It’s like people feel entitled to do whatever they want to you because you’re pretty and weaker.”
She looks away quickly as if he hit her, tears definitely threatening to fall. She forgot how damn tone deaf Dain could be.
Weak.
Her entire life, she had just been characterized as weak. By her mother, her siblings, her doctors. Weak joints, weak muscles, weak, weak weak.
This is the first time she can recall Dain saying it.
“Yeah, probably. I don’t know. I want to go back to my room,” she says. Still not meeting Dain’s eyes.
”I’ll walk you back,” he murmurs, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her toward the hall.
Fuck.
Violet sighs, looking at the sock sloppily hanging from the doorknob of her and Rhi’s shared room. Music blares from one of the guys’ rooms down the hall, so thankfully she can't hear anything from inside.
Dain checks his watch. “It’s only ten thirty,” he sighs. “I’ll have to get them to shut that off here in an hour or so.” He looks at her. “Do you want to wait, or…”
“I just want to go to bed,” she says. It came out a little whiny, but she doesn't have the energy to care. The day had been so damn long and she feels already on the verge of a breakdown.
“You can sleep in my room.” Violet’s neck jerks toward him. Pink starts to dance across his cheeks. “I have a couch,” he adds quickly. “I’ll sleep there and you can take my bed. The sheets are fresh, I promise.”
Violet smirks, quickly forgetting why she was upset with Dain. “Good, because I’m really not interested in breathing your BO all night.” She takes a step toward the male side of the floor, Dain on her heels.
“I do not stink,” he says, unlocking the door. “I smell of petunias and roses.”
“Is that what the ladies tell you to make you feel better?”
“Shut up.”
It almost feels like they didn't spend a whole year apart.
Dain’s room is fairly sparse, but slightly more spacious than Violet and Rhi’s room, being the RA suite. Not only did they get a tuition stipend, they also got better facilities. The brown couch is against the opposite wall to his bed, where Rhi’s bed would be in their room. While there wasn’t a second bed or desk, he did get to keep two dressers and bookshelves, which he had stacked on top of each other to make a six foot shelf filled to the brim with medical textbooks. His desk light is on, illuminating his Macbook and yearly planner that he kept religiously since the seventh grade.
Violet settles in on his bed, watching as he peels off his emblazoned polo to swap it for a tee, his back to her. He looks different than the last time she saw him, not that they had ever truly been in an intimate situation before. For some reason, the time they had spent apart stoked Violet’s nerve to stare at the rippling muscles. Those were new.
He pulls the green shirt down his torso. When he turns, she quickly finds interest in the titles on the nearby shelves. From her peripheral, Dain approaches the bed, and the temperature rises with his proximity.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” Dain says, placing his hand on her injured knee. He starts working his fingers into the muscles right above her kneecap, where she was sure to have a bruise from how hard it collided with Barlowe’s pelvis. "And I'm sorry I called you weak. I could tell you were upset."
Violet closs her eyes and swallows, refusing to make any noises at Dain’s touch. Or to acknowledge how red her face must be. It was a good thing the only light came from his dim desk lamp. “I’m alright. Thank you,” she responds finally, and opens her eyes to see his downcast, looking at her legs.
Violet clears her throat.
He looks up at her and takes her injured hand in his, spreading out her digits and lightly rubbing the back. Already she can see the skin darkening. As much as his touch sent butterflies flying in her abdomen, too much had happened tonight for her to make any rash decisions about fucking her childhood best friend on her first day of college. No, that would be crazy.
It doesn't change the fact that she wants it.
Subject change. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about something,” she says, reluctantly pulling her hand back toward her lap. “Before she left, Mira told me to stay away from Xaden Riorson. Do you know him well?”
It was impossible to miss the annoyance that washes over Dain’s features at the name. She can't deny she feels slightly guilty for ruining the moment between them by bringing up another man that she thinks is attractive.
No, it's more than that. He had been staring at her. Like he knew her.
Violet can't say much about it, though. To her knowledge, she had been the one staring first.
“Yeah, that dick. He doesn’t like me because of who my dad is. I don’t like him because he’s a control freak and know-it-all. He probably has something against you, too, even though it was his dad’s dumbassery. I have no idea how he managed to get student body president.” He scoffs. “I’m sure he paid people off, just like his father does. I’m not sure he’s genuinely nice to anyone outside of his clique. Why are you asking?”
He narrows his eyes.
Violet feels like there is an accusation somewhere in there. “I’m just wondering,” she defends. “I know to stay away from him. I just saw him today and was wondering what he was like. If he was like his dad. Plus, he seems to know Bodhi and Imogen.”
Dain nods. His hands resume motion around her knee, and she would have pushed him away if it wasn't a distraction from the dull pain. She definitely isn't horny listening to Dain peacock about another guy. “I try not to involve myself with personal details about him. Can't help Bodhi and Liam being on my floor, though.”
“No ‘keeping your enemies close?’” Violet teases. She senses him lighten up a little bit.
“I just know I’d get pissed off and obsessive. But you’re right. I’m going to be running against him in the spring for president and competing with him for internships next year, so…” he trails off. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m not,” Violet says, but even still, his statement elicits a yawn from her.
Dain smirks. “Go to bed, Vi. I’ll see you in the morning.” He strides to his desk to click off the lamp, and the only light left is from the faint flashes in the courtyard, throwing striped shadows on the wall from the blinds.
“Goodnight, Dain,” she mumbles, laying back and squirreling her way under the comforter, thick with his woodsy, warm scent. “I’m glad you’re back.”
A beat of silence.
“I missed you too.”
Not long after, faint snoring is emanating from the couch.
Violet is exhausted, but her mind still races. She often does this when she is completely overwhelmed — her mind insists on trying to catalogue all of the information before she is able to muddle it up in her sleep.
Rhiannon, Ridoc, Liam — they're nice. They can be counted as friends, she thinks. Jack and Oren might as well have a neon warning sign flashing over their heads. She hadn't formally met Imogen, Bodhi, and the others yet, and now doesn't know if she should, because…
Xaden Riorson.
While she is still unaware of much of the details surrounding Brennan’s death, she knows Xaden’s father was one of the named defendants in the case against Basgiath Medical Center, the teaching hospital a bit farther north where her brother spent the last part of his life. After Brennan passed… the Sorrengail family was awarded a hefty sum from the Riorsons’ vast wealth.
It wasn’t enough to spare her father of a broken heart.
Tossing onto her other side, Violet stares at the cinder block wall painted the same shade of eggshell white as her own. For the second time that day, tears prick her eyes. They fall in a steady, uncontrollable drip, blossoming onto the fabric of the pillow, until she next opens her eyes to dawn light streaming in.