Page 37 of Lessons in Touch

Rose

The lecture hall feels overwhelming today. I sit near the back, with my notebook open but untouched. I can’t stop thinking about Gabriel and our first time in the costume room. I remember his body pressed against mine, his poem filling the air, and how I felt completely his.

Now, it’s a blur of excitement and guilt. He’s my professor, and this is wrong. And yet, I want him more with each passing day. Professor Thompson is talking about brand equity, but I can’t hear a word. All I see are Gabriel’s eyes.

During the break halfway through the lecture, I take out my phone and check for messages from Gabriel. But there are none. Unexpectedly, Liam takes the seat next to me. He winks at me, which I find irritating.

I notice his confidence right away. He takes the seat next to me and leans in, like we’re already mid-conversation.

“Hey, Rose, you seem distracted. Is this class tough, or is something else on your mind?”

“It’s just the lecture,” I say, eyes still on my notes.

Liam’s trying to be charming, and maybe someone else would enjoy the attention. But all I can think about is Gabriel—his voice, his hands, the way he looked at me like he already knew every part of me.

“Oh, right. There’s a new café in town. Do you want to go for coffee this weekend? It could be fun.”

“Thanks, Liam, but I have too many assignments. Maybe another time.”

I hope he understands that I’m not interested. With a shrug, he leans back, still smiling.

“No big deal, I’ll live. But you should come to this event next week instead. It’s part of Wolfswood’s oldest traditions. And it’s only for students from elite families. It’s kind of a big deal.”

The last gathering Liam invited me to replays in my mind—a creepy ritual in the grove, Marcus’s release vanishing in the flames, and Cassandra’s approving expression, as if this was all perfectly normal. The memory sends a shiver down my spine.

I hesitate, not sure I can handle another ceremony like that.

“We went to one of those events before, Liam”, I tell him. “It was… intense. What was that all about?”

“You mean the oath thing? Yeah, it’s weird at first, I get it. But it’s just tradition, Rose. These gatherings keep our circles tight, you know? It’s how we network, and how we make sure power stays with the right people.”

“It felt more like some kind of ritualistic witchcraft. The fire, the chalice—it made my skin crawl. Why would anyone want to be part of that?”

“Look, I know it seems over-the-top. But it’s symbolic. It’s a way to show loyalty to Wolfswood’s legacy. You’re a Devereaux now, so you’re part of it. These events connect us to people who run the world, to bankers, CEOs, and politicians.”

“And in what way do you think that ceremony was supposed to make me feel connected? If anything, it did the opposite—it made me feel like I didn’t belong at all.”

“That’s just how it starts. You’re new, so they test you. But showing up proves you’re serious. This next one’s at the old chapel, and it’s less… dramatic. It’s more about deals and alliances.”

“So, it’s just a fancy party? No weird oaths and… other stuff?”

“Not like last time, I promise. It’s mostly talk about future investments and family partnerships. You need this, Rose, to learn how our world works. You’re an heiress now.”

But I feel torn. I want to understand Wolfswood’s elite, but the memory of that night unsettles me.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply. “But if it’s anything like before, I’m out.”

“Fair enough”, he nods. “You’ll see, it’s worth it. So, the party is at midnight next Friday. I’ll find you.”

He turns back to his notes, leaving me suspended between doubt and curiosity. I wonder if I’m ready for this world.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” I tell him.

Liam nods, looking pleased, and starts texting someone on his phone. Across the room, Cassandra Vane is watching us. She gets up and walks over, looking just as mean as ever.

“Getting cozy with the locals, charity case?” she says loudly, making sure the others can hear her. “Don’t think you belong here. Orphans don’t mix with real heirs.”

“I’m a Devereaux, remember?” I ask her.