Chapter 17 #2
No one really makes fun of Valen Von Dovish’s family for how many kids they have. But my mom started young and didn’t want to stop. And we didn’t have a billion dollars.
Adal, as if sensing he overstepped a boundary, shoves a beer bottle into my chest, and I take it from him.
“Of course I’ll be there. And I’ll wear whatever the fuck you want me to.”
Nico nods along with him. Mom would kill him if he didn’t show for me anyway. To everyone else, Mom is sweet and small. But she’s terrifying. At least to us, her boys.
And I’m very close with my brothers. But choosing Valen skips having to select which brother I need right next to me. Leo, Atlas, and Nico, even Adal and Oz, can stand there as groomsmen. But the man who helped me get through one of the worst nights of my life will hold the ring for me.
The night stretches on until I bow with the tension. It’s time.
I probably shouldn’t drive. Definitely not a bike. But I do.
Somehow, I make it to campus and convince myself it’s way too late to tell the woman I’m about to marry that…well, that I’m about to marry her.
“Fuck!” I grit my teeth and stumble toward Sorority Row, dreading every step closer to the door. I have to do this. May as well get it over with while I’m warm inside with a fuzzy head. I’ll be looser. Less careful. Less me.
Not to mention, the girl causes me all kinds of anxiety I never had before. Worries about becoming someone and not just performing a task. Those are different. I’m used to doing the jobs no one else wants. When I’m around her? I feel like I have to be better than that. Like that’s the bare minimum.
It’s uncomfortable. Almost choking.
Because I’ve never been anybody but a farce.
I lift my knuckle and tap on Omega House door. The porch light is still on, so that’s a good sign.
The housemother greets me in a flowery silk robe, hair in curlers, and a nasty glare on her face. “It’s late.”
“I know, but I need to talk to Scout Turner. It’s urgent… I’m…Apollo Griffin?” I say it like a question.
“Hmm. The president of Delta wants a word with young Scout.”
Her body blocks the entry, and I feel the world turning on its side. As casually as I can, I lean on the doorframe to hold myself steady.
“Fine. But you can wait out there.” She slams the door in my face, and I stumble back into a pillar on the porch.
Hands in my pockets, I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. My mouth is dry, though. And part of me wonders if I’ll puke. It’s been so long since I was drunk enough to vomit. But I think I could tonight.
A movement in the corner of my eye has me looking around in the shadows.
Someone rushes by in the darkness.
“Who’s there?” I ask. But when I hurry, well, trip toward the side of the house, there’s no sign of anyone. I shake my head. I think I’m drunker than I realized.
“Yeah?”
My back stiffens at the sound of Scout’s voice. It’s always so confident and careful. Like she doesn’t believe a word anyone says, and she needs to make sure they aren’t lying.
I can’t help but smile when I see her. Fuzzy hat on top of her head. Puffy coat. Balled-up pajama pants with what looks to be some complex equations on them. Maybe chemistry molecules or something. And bunny slippers.
“You wear glasses?” I snort. Like it’s funny. Really, it’s fucking adorable, and I just sounded like an ass.
“Yes, sometimes I wear glasses when I’m studying. Is that a problem?”
“No. I-I just didn’t know that.” Of course I didn’t know that. I barely know anything about her. Except her drive to win. And the way she makes me feel when I’m with her.
“Is this about Thursday?” she asks. “I can’t thank you enough.” Her blue eyes narrow on me as she lifts her head to take me in. She’s so short. Tiny.
And I’m terrified.
“No. Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
I try to gather up some spit to talk. “You asked me why I did it. And I had a few reasons.”
“Because you hate Ayan?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s one.”
“What else?”
Our crystallized breaths collide in the air.
“I, uh…I wanted to tell you that I…” This is way harder than I expected. Even with the liquid courage. “President Damon gave me my appointed…and, well, it’s…you.”
There’s not much change on her face. Perhaps her eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
Suddenly, I feel the overwhelming urge to apologize to her. She got hosed by getting someone like me and not a wealthy bastard who could make her smile at the news. I rub my forehead with the back of my hand and try to come up with some words to soften the blow.
“Okay.”
“I— Okay?” I ask. That’s it?
She shrugs. “Yeah. Okay.” Her eyes turn fierce as she stares up at me. “But you need to understand something. I’m going to medical school. And I want Hopkins.”
“Fine,” I blurt out, still stunned by her lack of reaction. I have no idea what a Hopkins is, but I figure I can find out more about him later. “Anything else?”
She studies me, and under her scrutiny, I feel the most vulnerable. Like I suddenly want to prove her wrong about me. I can’t give her a bunch of money or probably discuss anything with her that she’s into, like science shit.
But I can be an amazing husband.
That I know I can do.
“No. Not that I can think of right now.”
“Okay, so here’s the deal…” I brace for a war. “The president also wants us to get married next Wednesday. To be the example of the POT’s new masterful abilities to make a good pairing or something.”
Instead of anger, she nods. No expression on her face. “I want a chocolate cake.”
“Yeah… I like chocolate.”
We have chocolate! She likes chocolate! I like chocolate! My insides rejoice at the commonality. There’s always chocolate…
“You can plan the wedding, if you’d like,” I tell her. “Or we can plan—”
“No, no. I’m too busy for that. But I’ll show up. Just give me a time.”
“I haven’t gone that far yet, but I’ll let you know. And they also want us to, um, produce as soon as possible, too. Just a heads-up.”
She jolts like I slapped her. “I’m sorry, what?”
Oh shit. “The, um, committee? The president? They want us to give them new life for the, uh, baby program? Like, with the hormones and stuff, and I…” The more I say out loud, the more terrified I become. Her skin turns from the shade of a piece of paper to nearly purple.
She recoils, the bear ears flopping down on her cap. “Absolutely not. I just told you that I’m heading to medical school. I can’t have a baby right now!”
“But they told us to.”
Her eyebrows stitch together as if that’s the most absurd thing anyone has ever said to her. “We can do your wedding. We can do the ceremony and the elders and vows and all of that. I don’t care… But I’m not having a baby right now. Possibly ever.”
“We have to, you know…commiserate the marriage.”
“Consummate. Caliphylla, help me.”
“Yeah, that. We have to. And…they aren’t letting you married girls take pills anymore, so when we communicate the marriage—”
“Consum— You know what? It doesn’t matter. You are not putting that thing in me. If that’s the way you all want to play this. See you at the wedding. And enjoy your sexless marriage!” She spins on her heel and goes into the house, slamming the door behind her.
I’m usually chill. A relaxed man…
But darkness overtakes me that she’d be so flippant to ignore orders. From me. From the university… Playing with our ability to not get expelled. Or worse.
Sexless marriage?
Facing the house, I yell, “Yeah, we’ll see about that, tulip!”