Chapter 3 — The Uninvited Guest
805 Words
POV : Elena
By eleven o'clock the next night, my bedroom felt less like a sanctuary and more like a vibrating cage.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The heavy, aggressive bass from the sound system downstairs rattled the vintage glass panes of my private balcony. It had been going on for hours. What had started as a few muffled voices at eight o'clock had mutated into a full-blown rager, completely overtaking the Calloway mansion. Halden University’s elite; the athletes, the sorority girls, the campus royalty who ran the social food chain, had completely invaded.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of my king-sized bed, a pair of noise-canceling headphones pressed tightly over my ears, desperately trying to focus on a fifty-page reading assignment for my seminar class. But it was useless. Even through the foam padding, I could hear the muffled shrieks of drunk girls down the hall, the heavy stomping of boots on the hardwood, and the unmistakable sound of red plastic cups clinking together right outside my door.
Mom and Richard had left early that morning for a weekend country club retreat in Aspen. They had barely turned the corner of the driveway before Jace took over the house.
Around midnight, a sudden, sharp smell of smoke and cheap beer began to seep directly under my bedroom door. The heat in my room was becoming unbearable, and my throat felt dry, scratched, and thick from the fumes. Worse, I realized I had left my laptop charger and my primary reference textbook down in the first-floor library study before the madness started.
Talk about bad luck, right?
I couldn't just sit here starving and trapped until morning.
I pulled off my headphones, tossing them onto the mattress. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing an old, faded grey t-shirt that hung loosely over a pair of simple black shorts, definitely not dressed for a Halden VIP party. My hair was pulled back into a quick, messy bun. 'Just run down, grab the charger, and come right back up,' I told myself, my palm sweating against the doorknob. 'Nobody is going to notice you.'
I unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor.
The hallway was a disaster zone. Two basketball players I recognized from the university sports banners were leaning against the antique crown molding, laughing loudly as a girl in a tight skirt tried to balance a beer bottle on her head. I kept my head down, shoulders hunched, slipping past them like a shadow as I headed toward the staircase.
The moment I hit the landing, the sheer scale of the chaos became visible. The massive marble foyer was packed wall-to-wall.
I took three steps down the stairs, intending to just blend into the perimeter, when a loud, obnoxious whistle cut through the music from the bottom of the staircase.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on," a guy with a thick neck and a varsity jacket yelled, pointing straight up at me. He nudged the guy next to him, a massive grin spreading across his face. "I don't recognise her. Yo' Calloway! Didn't know you had this stashed up here, man!"
The immediate circle around the staircase went dead silent, several heads snapping upward to look at me. My cheeks instantly flamed an agonizing crimson. I froze on the step, my hand tightening around the cold iron railing as the crowd began to smirk and murmur.
"Who is she?" a girl near the couch whispered loudly, scanning my oversized t-shirt with pure judgment. "Is that the new stepsister? The charity case?"
"Damn, Jace, you keeping the pretty ones hidden?" another teammate shouted, parading his red cup toward me in a mock toast.
I wanted the marble floor to open up and swallow me alive. I felt exposed, small, and completely defenseless beneath the glaring party lights. I turned my eyes desperately toward the center of the living room, trying to find a way through the crowd to the library.
And that’s when I saw him.
Jace was leaning against the grand piano, a red cup held loosely in his large, calloused hand. He was surrounded by the top-tier athletes and campus queens, looking completely in his element; untouchable, arrogant, and flawless.
But he wasn't laughing.
The exact second my feet had hit the stairs, his gray eyes had locked onto me. His posture had gone completely stiff, his broad shoulders squaring as his jaw tightened into a hard, dangerous line. As his teammates continued to hoot and call out comments about me, Jace didn't join in.
Instead, his dark, piercing gaze tracked my every single movement through the crowded room, his eyes burning into mine with an intense, unreadable, and utterly territorial heat that made it feel like we were the only two people in the house.
What the hell was up with him?
- Writer
