“Why are there so many women here?” I looked at Will, who was beside me.
“Members are allowed to invite people to spend the night on the night of the ceremony. It’s basically the only night we have an open-door policy like this. Even when we throw parties, guests can’t stay over.”
“So these are, what, their wives?” I looked at the crowd again.
“I don’t think Professor Wagner is married to his TA,” Wolf said with a laugh as he pointed at the man in question. The man wasn’t very old, maybe early forties, but the woman was definitely much, much younger than him.
“She can’t be much older than me,” I said.
“She’s not. Rae’s a junior,” Wolf said. “She’d be my pick if they let women join The Swords. She’s got it all, brains, looks, her family has power. Too bad she’s into older men.”
“Married older men,” Will added.
“Ew.” I wasn’t a saint, but I prided myself in having somewhat of a moral code.
Later, when everyone left, Adam and I finished up dinner and headed to the piano room. I was feeling a billion times better than I was when I woke up this morning, but so many things were still running through my mind and I’d spent the majority of the day trying and failing to sort it all out.
“What are you thinking about?”
“The Chancellor said something last night that made me think.”
“What?”
“He said the world depends on women to make sacrifices. He said without their sacrifices the world would be a disaster.”
“Makes sense. Women are often seen as selfless beings.” He pushed the door to the piano room open and let me walk in before following and closing it behind us.
“He made it seem like I’d have to make a sacrifice.”
“Last night?”
“In general.”
“What’s your concern? That they’ll ask more of you even though you’ve had your official ceremony?”
“No. I mean yes, obviously, but no. Between what he said and what the nun said about my sister. I just . . . ” I paced a few steps. “What if . . . ” I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. “Would you be able to tell if one of the keys or cards is fake?”
“You mean the one you got?”
“Yes. I just . . . isn’t it weird? Why would I be invited?”
“You said you had a 4.0 GPA. That would be a good reason for an invite.”
“The same year they invite Stella? My parents didn’t even go to college.”
“Did their parents?”
I shook my head. “I’m the first person in my family to attend.”
“Ever? Even community college?”
“Karen and Esteban both grew up in poverty. Education was a luxury.”
“Education should never be a luxury.”
“Well, unfortunately, not all of us are born into wealthy families. Or even middle-class families. To some people, education is the ultimate luxury.”
“That’s a sad reality,” he said. “You want a drink?”
I nodded. He walked over to the small bar, his arm brushing past me and leaving a trace of fire as he went. I walked over to my usual seat, tucking a leg underneath me as I sat on the edge of the couch closest to the piano. He walked over, handed me a glass, clinked his against it in a toast as he held my eyes, and took a sip. I did the same. He sat on the piano bench, close enough that if I stretched out my leg, it would touch his. Even though we’d kissed and talked about dating, I still wasn’t entirely sure where to go from here. So many things were happening at once that it felt dumb to even try to figure this thing between us out. Yet there I was, thinking about it every time he was near and trying not to think about it when he wasn’t.
“Are you going to play?” I took another sip of the whiskey.
“What would you like me to play?”
“Anything.”
“Anything like what?” He leafed through the book in front of him.
“I don’t know piano music. Just anything.”
“You know regular music. What’s your favorite song?”
“I don’t think I have one.”
“You make things incredibly complicated.” He sighed and picked up his drink.
“I said play anything. That’s as simple as a request gets. I just like hearing it and seeing your hands move on the keys.”
“You can see my hands from all the way over there?”
“Are you inviting me to sit next to you?”
“If that’s what you want to do.” His gaze burned into mine as he set his glass down.
A challenge.
I set down my own glass and walked over to him. My legs lifting when they touched the cold bench, and setting right back down when Adam moved closer, the warmth of his body so close to mine was as comforting as it was maddening. I didn’t dare look at him. I knew if I did, I would find that we were too close and I didn’t want to make the first move again. I refused. I focused on his hands, hovering over the keys, his long, thin fingers. Aunt Carmen used to say you could tell a lot about a man by his hands and even though I never fully understood that, I loved looking at Adam’s. He kept his nails trimmed short and had calluses on the inside of his knuckles, from working out, I presumed. Other than that, his hands were perfectly unmarred. When his fingers finally began to move over the keys, a beautiful melody filled the air and I couldn’t not stare at his hands.
“I’ve always wanted to play like that,” I whispered.
“Why not take classes?”
“Another luxury.”
“I could teach you.”
“You don’t think it’s too late for me to learn?”
“Knowledge is timeless.” He met my gaze, his fingers still moving on the keys as he spoke.
I felt my breath quicken as he inched closer. He continued playing even as he closed his eyes, even as our lips touched lightly, even as I brought a hand up to caress his face, to feel the prickle of the shadow of hair growing on it that reminded me that he was real, that this wasn’t made up or in my mind. He stopped playing suddenly, the melody getting sucked into the kiss we shared, and brought his hands up to cup my face as he deepened the kiss, those long fingers sliding into my hair as his tongue moved against mine. He pulled back, both of us breathing heavily as he placed his forehead against mine.
“You’ve had a long day,” he said.
“I’ve had a long life.”
He chuckled against my lips, then pulled back, grabbed my hand, and stood. I followed him upstairs quietly, my heart galloping too quickly for me to even form words. He led me to my room and waited for me to unlock it. It was dark in there without the lamps on the nightstands on, but it didn’t matter. The moment we shut the door behind us, our mouths found each other again. Our movements were frantic, our mouths starving, our hands ripping at each other’s clothes.
I managed to pull his shirt over his head. He broke the kiss to allow it, tossing it to the other side of the room as his lips crashed against mine once more. He toyed with my dress, his hands sneaking underneath, setting my skin ablaze as his callused fingers moved against my thighs, my hips, my torso, and found my naked breasts. I grappled with the moan building in the back of my throat, trying not to expose just how much I wanted him, but when his other hand snuck under and set my panties aside, it was futile. The moan ripped from my mouth and was silenced by his lips against mine, his tongue licking along the seam of my lips to make way into my mouth. I broke the kiss to lift my dress over my head, tossing it to meet the same fate as his shirt, as he lowered my panties slowly down my legs with one hand, while continuing to explore me with the other. He dragged his mouth down my jaw, my chest, my abdomen, until it met the same fate as his fingers, moving against me, inside me, with the same fluidity and sensuality he used to play the keys. His fingers filled me, his tongue devouring me until I felt out of breath, shaking, and only gasping out incognizant words of approval.