Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
ROSE
Past
“Thank God you’re here!” Sophie screeched, clawing at my wrist as soon as I walked through the front doors of the Student Banquet Center. “I’ve been waiting forever. I thought you bailed.”
She paused upon noticing my outfit, quizzically eyeing my red lips and cocktail dress.
My outfit for the annual Alumni Fundraiser was ordinary when compared to the bulky rose-gold snake chain wrapped around Sophie’s neck and her sequined black dress.
It accentuated every curve of her body, putting mine to shame.
Nonetheless, my knee-length dress was racier than usual.
Whatever she thought of my choice, she chose to keep it to herself.
Sophie was one of my childhood friends. Although I was still not a regular chatterbox, I felt comfortable speaking around her and my cousins.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the crowd. “I would’ve been pissed if you didn’t come tonight. What took you so long?”
I glanced at my phone. “It’s four fifty-five. The fundraiser doesn’t start for another five minutes.”
Despite what people—and Sophie—thought, I never missed the chance to attend big functions.
At intimate gatherings, there was pressure to engage in conversation, but at large affairs, you could get lost in a sea of faces.
These events were perfect for someone like me.
I could socialize without the pressure to converse.
Sophie didn’t hold these events in the same reverence.
“Kill me, now,” she groaned. “I can’t believe my parents make me organize this stupid event every year.
Like, do they think we want to party with our parents?
” The moment she said it, she remembered my parents, who were MIA.
She watched me warily out of the corner of her eye. “Is your dad coming tonight?”
Tonight’s fundraiser was organized by the Alumni Committee, though Sophie seemed to confuse it with a party.
The event was held on campus, and the attendees were NewTech alumni, such as Sophie’s parents.
While most parents were involved in the planning process, my father had no idea this event was even happening.
His assistant generally sent a check on his behalf.
I studied the mushroom-colored linens on the round banquet tables and the muted insignias. The committee had gone all out this year with fall decorations, giant bamboo leaves as centerpieces, and servers dressed in taupe colors. “Nope. He’s in Barcelona for work.” Or was it London?
Since I was old enough to remember, Papa had always been pulled away on important business trips.
But ever since my attack, he actively sought reasons to stay away.
It started a string of fights between my parents.
Papa blamed Mom for not keeping an eye on me.
How else could I have been attacked in our backyard?
Mom blamed him for not being around more.
The scars on my body wouldn’t let them forget the gruesome day, and they weren’t on brand with our aesthetic home and perfect lives.
They had begged me to consider plastic surgery, but I was terrified.
I couldn’t do it, and they couldn’t bear to look at me.
People didn’t have the stomach to look at the new me, and I learned it was best to cover up.
In the end, my parents separated, though they never got divorced. My father took every opportunity to leave town, and my mother returned to her first love—acting. The extent of our relationship was the sporadic weekends she came around for a mother-daughter yacht trip.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie offered with genuine sympathy laced in her voice.
She didn’t have to feel sorry for me. The years had numbed the pain of my lukewarm relationship with my inattentive parents. I was apathetic toward them.
Sensing a dip in the festive mood, Sophie changed the topic. “Hey, how’s your hot cousin, Poppy?”
“Still only eighteen.” Sophie was bisexual and had harbored a crush on my cousin for months. I told her Poppy was too young for her, but she was relentless in her pursuit.
“I don’t see the problem. Eighteen is legal, and you said that she likes both boys and girls.”
“Doesn’t matter. Poppy is super focused on school. She only expresses interest in romance during winter or summer breaks when school’s out of session.”
“That’s odd.”
“That’s Poppy.” I narrowed my eyes. “But whatever she’s into, leave her alone. She’s too young for you.”
“No promises.”
“Rose! Hey! Wait up.”
Our conversation stopped when another voice called out from across the room. We turned to find Matt jogging toward us, looking incredibly handsome in slacks and a midnight blue jacket with a polo shirt underneath. It was the universal attire for the younger men at these events.
I raised my head once he reached us since he was so much taller than me.
“Hey, Sophie.” He gave her a polite smile before turning to face me. “Rose, you look great.” He gestured at my champagne-colored cocktail dress, his eyes fleeting to the curve of my waist.
I couldn’t get past Professor Maxwell’s comments about my clothes.
I had ransacked my closet to disprove him, but that failed miserably.
Every article I owned was too conservative and neutral for someone my age.
This dress came the closest to contradicting him.
Though it had a high collar, the see-through sleeves made it feminine and somewhat sexy.
In case the look wasn’t outlandish enough for me, I paired it with red lipstick and an emerald necklace that stood out.
“I haven’t been to one of these events in forever,” he added. “My parents practically blackmailed me into it.”
I smiled tentatively, and he returned the gesture with a million-dollar megawatt one. I was grateful when Sophie took over the conversation. “Ugh. Be grateful. Mine forces me to organize it every year. As if we want to drink with our parents.”
“Right?” Matt slanted his face toward me. “Are your parents here, too?” he asked, stepping forward.
I shook my head, hastily retreating. He noticed, though he didn’t comment on it.
“That means you can get drunk without hearing a lecture. Let’s hit the bar.” Matt led me to the bar with a hand on my waist.
I hurried ahead, letting his arm fall away. He was more forward than he had been in class, standing closer than necessary in an intimate way.
When we reached our destination, Sophie craned her neck over the massive crowd. She tried to get the bartender’s attention, who was being hounded by at least twenty others. “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me I can’t even get a drink at a party I organized?”
It was a fundraiser, not a party, I mentally corrected.
She huffed. “This thing blows.”
Matt laughed. “You’re the one who organized it.”
“Don’t remind me.”
When it was finally our turn, the bartender handed us three champagne flutes. The drinks lasted less than five minutes, and soon Sophie was trying to get his attention again. After our fourth drink, Matt stepped up to the plate.
“I’m bribing the bartender and getting us a bottle. Meet you ladies outside?” he suggested.
Sophie and I gave him appreciative glances. “I could use a smoke,” she announced, and linked arms with me. We strolled toward the terrace, and once we stepped outside, she cut right to the chase. “What’s going on with you and Matt?”
I frowned, almost stumbling on my high heels. “Absolutely nothing.”
She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse, borrowing a light from a passerby. “He has been staring at you all night.”
“He’s just not used to seeing me this way,” I explained, glancing down at my formfitting dress.
Her eyes moved over the chiffon fabric. “ I am not used to seeing you dressed this way. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
Sophie twirled the cigarette between her fingers, using it to draw an imaginary line over my outfit.
“You’re showing skin.” She pointed at my nails, which I had painted red on a whim to match my lips.
“You’re wearing colors.” She reached out and touched the large emerald necklace around my neck.
“And you’re wearing a statement piece. This is so unlike you. ”
She had long teased me for being allergic to color and avoiding bold jewelry. Simple had always been my style, but I couldn’t resist when I found an unopened bottle of red nail polish and the never-before-worn emerald-encased necklace on my jewelry stand.
My head was foggy after the last glass of champagne, mixed with the haze from the cigarette smoke. The alcohol clouded my mind, and I spoke without thinking. “You can blame this on Professor Maxwell.”
Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Caden? What’s he got to do with anything?”
Sophie was a couple years older than me and a couple years younger than the Maxwell twins.
While we met in elementary school, she had known the twins her whole life.
I had never shared my feelings for Damon with her or about enrolling in Professor Maxwell’s class, fearing my family would be angry if the word got out.
“I signed up for Professor Maxwell’s class,” I admitted in a small voice.
“Oh.” Her voice went up an octave. She watched me closely before asking, “And I’m guessing your family doesn’t know?”
I shook my head. It was best to come clean. Sooner or later, she would find out through the twins. Luckily, she was among the few neutral parties in this drawn-out rivalry. She would understand this was purely about academics, nothing more.
“What must it be like to have Caden as a professor?” she mused.