Chapter 7 Jace
JACE
Veering off one of the many paths that snake around campus, I head into the woods and toward a rock wall Jax and I discovered during our freshman year.
I’ve been on edge since I woke up this morning, and the meeting earlier didn’t help.
I don’t like being left out of the loop, and with the announcements today, a lot of people kept me out of the loop.
My dad and uncles are part of the core group of alumni that Jordan said would be choosing the leaders from now on, and while I understand that they were just following the rules, it still pisses me off that they chose not to tell us that there was something going on, considering all the shit we’ve had to deal with this year.
I’m also salty that no one bothered to tell us about the new security measures, or that things were so bad that they had to put these measures in place, especially since Jax, Killian, and I were just named as three of the four members of next year’s leadership.
If we’re supposed to be the ones in charge of security and safety next year, then why the fuck are they keeping us in the dark now when we’ve always been privy to this sort of information in the past?
I don’t really give two fucks about the key logs or the new rules about guests, which is what everyone else seems to be focusing on. The thing that’s making my brain itchy is not knowing why the changes are being put in place.
In order to change how the leadership is selected, they would have had to change the society’s charter.
The last time they did that was last year, when they added an amendment that allowed us to have three leaders instead of four, but eliminating elections means they had to completely rewrite the section on leadership, and they wouldn’t have done that on a whim.
Knowing what I do about how things work, nothing within the Rebels is done “just because,” and changes don’t happen overnight. Something had to have triggered all this, and whatever it is has probably been an issue for years, if not longer.
I’m not surprised that Jax, Killian, and I were named as leaders next year, considering how involved we’ve been with the inner workings of the frat for the past few years—even if they don’t want to include us now.
And the three of us were going to put our names forward for the elections anyway, but Shane’s appointment is surprising.
He’s a founding legacy like we are, and his father is also part of the core group of alumni that ours are, but that’s where our similarities end.
Shane’s the type of guy who does just enough to fulfill his responsibilities with the frat, but that’s it. He doesn’t participate in activities if they aren’t mandatory, doesn’t volunteer for extra committees or duties, and he sticks to the background when he does get involved in things.
I have no hate for him on that front because the only reason I’m so involved in things is that it’s expected of me.
And because I don’t trust anyone outside of my family to keep me and mine safe.
But there has to be a reason he was appointed, and why they decided to go back to a four-person team next year.
Nothing about the situation makes sense, and not knowing what the fuck is going on is driving me crazy.
I need to get out of my head for a while.
The only way to do that right now is to climb.
Being around people isn’t an option, and I know from experience that nothing good will come of tonight if I don’t burn off the restless energy that will ultimately lead to me losing my shit and having to deal with the aftermath.
The school has a climbing gym, but even the most difficult section doesn’t pose any sort of challenge for my brother or me, especially since the gym staff won’t let anyone near the walls without full safety gear and someone acting as a belayer.
That’s not the kind of climbing we enjoy, so we found our own spot.
Plus, the wall is closed at night, and that’s one of the best times to climb, at least it is for me.
Most people wouldn’t even consider free climbing when it’s dark out, and every climbing instructor or wall employee will tell you that climbing alone in the dark is the worst thing you can do, especially with no equipment, but I’ve never been one to follow the rules.
The moon is just over a quarter full tonight, and the sky is clear of clouds, so it’s bright enough that I can see without straining, but not so bright that it’ll be easy.
Once I’m at the wall, I strip off my sweater and empty my pockets so I don’t lose anything, then walk along the base to scout my route.
I’ve climbed every single inch of the wall over the years, but I try not to use the same route too many times if I can help it. There’s no challenge in repeating something you’ve already done, and what’s the point if there’s no challenge?
Once I have my route set, I flex my fingers a few times, more out of habit than as an actual warm-up, then grab a small bump in the rock and use it to haul myself up the side of the wall until I can wedge my foot against another tiny bump.
The world around me fades as soon as both my feet are off the ground, and the only things that exist in that moment are me and the wall.
Every grip and pull brings me that much closer to the top, and knowing that the only thing stopping me from falling to the rocky ground is my ability to hang on to a piece of rock a quarter of an inch wide is a rush unlike anything else.
I reach the top with ease, then start climbing down using a different route I took to get up, just for a little extra challenge.
As soon as my feet are on the ground, I move to the other end of the wall and immediately jump up to grab a shard of rock that’s jutting out from the wall and haul myself up.
This part of the wall is an overhang, and instead of going straight up or ascending at an incline, the top of it is further out than the base, and the nearly forty-five-degree angle makes it almost impossible to use your legs or feet. You have to rely on your grip strength and arms to climb it.
Jax and I have raced each other up this part of the wall more times than I can count, so I let muscle memory take over and I scale the wall like a spider monkey, then do it two more times for good measure.
When I’m finally on the ground after my third climb, my arms are burning and my hands ache in that way that tells me I had a decent workout but could have done more.
Physically I feel a bit better, but my mind is still a mess as I pull my sweater back on and tuck my hairband away.
I should go back to my room and find something to occupy my brain with until I’m tired enough to go to sleep, but the thought of sitting alone while my brother and cousins are off having fun is about as appealing as using a shard of glass to shave.
With a disgruntled sigh, I head back toward campus. Hopefully it’s late enough that the gym is empty because I still haven’t burned off my excess energy, and I need to channel it into something before I lose my ever-loving shit.
“Hey, man,” someone calls as soon as I step over the threshold of Hamilton House. “Congratulations.”
Schooling my expression into a casual mask, I glance over at the group of guys clustered near the old concierge desk that’s become a muster point when guys are waiting for each other.
“Thanks.” I toss them a smile, even as dark energy flows through me at their interruption.
“Does this mean you’re the guy to talk to if we want better room assignments next year?” another jokes.
I huff out a laugh but don’t slow my steps. “Might want to talk to one of the others about that,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Unless you’ve got something good to offer for the favor, then definitely come talk to me in June.”
They all laugh but thankfully keep their traps shut as I cut across the main foyer and tap my ID on the sensor next to the door to the basement stairs.
It takes a few seconds for the telltale click of the lock disengaging, and I’m so on edge that even that slight delay is enough to send a wave of annoyance through me as I yank the door open and hurry down the stairs.
The hall is completely deserted as I make a beeline for the gym, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I push the door open and find it empty.
I’m already yanking off my sweater and shirt as I make my way to the cardio section. As much as I want to beat the fuck out of the many boxing bags around, it’s best I start with something like running so I can burn off the bulk of my energy first.
Tossing my sweater and t-shirt over the barre attached to the mirror next to the treadmills, I hop up on one and turn it on. The conveyor belt starts moving under my feet, and I crank up the speed until I’m running at an easy pace.
The treadmill has dozens of features that can tell me every detail about my run, from my pace to how many calories I’m burning. It also has a myriad preset speed and incline combos I could choose based on what kind of workout I want and what I’m training for.
I ignore all of them and focus on the steady thud of my shoes hitting the belt and wait for the endorphin rush that will hopefully help clear away some of the darkness lingering inside me.
The door to the gym bangs open, and I have to bite my lip so I don’t smile when Shane freezes in the doorway, a look of utter disbelief on his face.
“In or out, bro,” I call when he just keeps staring at me like he’s trying to decide if I’m real or some sort of fever dream.
He shoots me a dirty look and stomps into the gym.
A smile tugs at my lips as he heads right for the treadmills and climbs onto one that’s a few over from mine. I don’t bother hiding that I’m watching him as he starts the belt, then cranks it up so it’s moving at the same pace as mine.
He doesn’t spare me a second look as he starts running, and I take a second to check him out since he’s doing everything in his power to pretend I’m not here.