Chapter Burning
Burning
Callum
Silence startles me. I’m used to waking up in my bed alone, but today I wish I wasn’t. My cock gets hard just thinking about the way she moaned my name. The taste of her sweet clit still lingers on my lips.
I throw off the covers and walk over to the large window beside my desk. I must distance Scarlett from my lifestyle. The Society knows all my worst parts—she should only see the good. I need to shield her from that side of me.
I look at the gloves that are on the floor underneath the punching bag. I don’t use them. I never do. I deserve the pain.
My bare knuckles hit the bag, fast and hard. Again, harder. Again, faster. Each hit helps my thoughts escape a little more, but she keeps creeping back in. The bag jolts with every hit, her voice stuck in my chest. I can’t get rid of her.
I hit with my left hand, then put all my force behind my right-handed blow. The bag swings back at me. I grab the cool leather and rest my head against it.
How could someone as pure as her want someone like me? I need to see her again—she has a class at 10 a.m. today.
I shove the bag out of my way, race to the bathroom, and start the shower.
As hot steam fills the room, I grip the edge of the counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
I look just like my father. Everyone tells me that and every time I hear it feels like a slap to the face.
It isn’t bad enough that I have his brutal expectations to live up to, I have to look like him too.
I dry myself off and walk to my colour-coded closet to pick an outfit for the day—jeans and a black t-shirt. My worn leather jacket lies on the back of my desk chair. I grab it and head out.
On campus, there’s a shift in the air. My mood usually changes closer to winter, but this year is different. Maybe it’s because this is my final year and I’m only just realizing it, but I feel more disconnected than I usually do.
The Society hides within the bones of this place—in its traditions, books, and buildings named after old money. Most people are here because they have to be, not because they want to be. They were born into a system of entitlement, empty and rotten beneath a gold-plated surface—like me.
I stay in my car and put the window down, watching as she pulls into her favourite parking spot—the same one she parks in almost every day.
As she gets out of the driver’s seat, she grabs her bag.
I expect to see a change in her, maybe something in her step that’s changed since last night.
Instead, she looks untouched and pure, freely walking toward the campus buildings like she wasn’t fucked by my tongue last night. It drives me mad.
I’ve never cared enough to act territorial over a woman before. But I don’t just want to claim Scarlett, I want everyone to know that she’s mine—yet I don’t at the same time.
As her perfectly outlined legs lead her toward the psych building, she pulls something out of her bag.
Gummy bears? No, sour gummies. Scarlett, a sucker for something sour.
I watch her examine the colour of each candy in her hand before she individually brings them to her mouth.
She must eat them in a specific order. Interesting.
My mind shifts back to last night. I’ll have her on her knees for me soon enough. I reach into my pocket for a cigarette without looking away from her. I bring it to my lips and light it, hoping to find clarity when I inhale, but the heaviness remains.
I watch her walk down the campus path. She turns back only for a moment and sees me.
Her eyes meet mine, like they were looking for me.
I feel a pounding in my chest, but neither of us react.
She breaks our eye contact and turns to leave just as my phone rings.
I hold my stare on her before I pick it up.
“Callum, we have a drop on Thursday.” Harrison gets right to it.
“Just us?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just a small one out of town but it shouldn’t take too long.” He’s quick to respond.
I sigh.
“You good, Mercer?”
“Yeah, you at The Society tonight?” He usually spends most of his free time there.
“I’m just leaving. You want to meet up for a drink later?”
“Sure, text me.” I’m about to hang up as he interrupts.
“Oh Callum, don’t forget about the party at The Society next Friday.”
“How could I forget?”
In the two times that I’ve seen Mother this week, she’s mentioned it.
“I think I know the answer but… are you bringing anyone?” He doesn’t miss a beat. I want to bring Scarlett, but she can’t be placed in dangers way. Although, at this point, being with me is probably her safest option.
“I’m not sure.”
Silence.
“Okay, I’ll text you later.” He hangs up.
I start the engine, ready to head home.
At the house, I can immediately tell that no one is here. I drop my keys on the marble table that sits just inside the door. It’s quiet. The furnace lightly hums and the tick of the grandfather clock in the study feels empty and sterile.
I take my jacket off and throw it on a chair by the kitchen island. I pace into the study, straight for the decanter on the desk. I pour a glass of the amber whiskey, no ice. I don’t want to dilute it. The first sip burns, but I don’t wince. The pain is familiar.
I move down the hall and into my room— the only place where I can hide from the legacy that this house represents. I lean on the window frame with my shoulder against the wood, watching the sun set and trees sway in the wind. I think of her.
I don’t know how to give love, but I’d burn for hers.