Chapter 29 The hangover of high society

Chapter 29 The hangover of high society
BRISELLE’S POV.
 The morning sun felt like a spotlight I hadn’t asked for. I sat in the back corner of the campus coffee shop, huddled in my thickest, most oversized gray hoodie, the one Kai had explicitly told me not to wear. My hair was pulled back into a messy, utilitarian knot, and my glasses were back on my nose, acting as a shield. But it didn’t matter. The "Ghost Girl" had been exorcised, in her place was the girl from the Thornefield Gala, and the campus wasn’t letting me forget it.
 "Briselle, you’re trending," Jenna whispered, sliding into the booth across from me. She didn’t even say hello, she just shoved her phone under my nose.
 It was a grainy, high-res photo from a society blog. It was the moment on the stairs—Kai adjusting my strap, his head tilted toward mine in a way that looked achingly intimate. The caption read: The Thornefield Heir’s New Muse: Who is the mystery girl in emerald?
 "I feel like I’m going to be sick," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
 "Sick? Bris, you look like a literal princess!" Jenna’s eyes were wide, a mix of awe and genuine concern. "The whole campus is vibrating. Veronica is walking around the library acting like she’s the Queen Mother, and Cassandra and her clones look like they’ve been sucking on lemons all morning. Now, talk, tell me everything. Was it like a movie?"
 "It was a horror movie, Jenna," I said, my voice dropping to a low hiss. I leaned over the table, the smell of roasted coffee doing nothing to soothe my nerves. "It was terrifying. The house is like a museum where the statues watch you. His father...Richard...he looks at you and you feel like you’re being audited. And the stepmother? She’s a shark in silver silk."
 I told her about the high table, the silver forks, and the way the air felt like it was disappearing. I skipped the part about the conservatory, that was a knot in my stomach I wasn't ready to untangle, but I told her about the drive home. Or lack thereof.
 "He didn't drive you back?" Jenna frowned, her excitement dimming. "After all that? After the 'muse' photos and the dancing?"
 "He had 'business,'" I said, mimicking Kai’s clipped tone. "He sent a driver. It was...cold, Jenna. One minute he was looking at me like I was the only person in the world, and the next, I was just a ghost again."
 "Maybe it was too much for him, too," Jenna mused, stirring her latte. "I mean, Kai Thornefield doesn't do 'feelings.' Maybe he got scared."
 "He didn't get scared, he got professional," I corrected her, though the word felt like ash in my mouth. "I told him to keep it that way. I’m the one who pushed him, remember? I shouldn't be upset that he actually listened."
 The rest of the day was a gauntlet. I spent my lectures staring at the back of professors' heads, feeling the weight of a hundred stares. People who had never looked at me twice were suddenly "accidentally" bumping into me in the halls, trying to see if the girl in the hoodie was really the girl in the emerald silk.
 By 4:00 PM, my head was thumping with a dull, persistent ache. I just wanted to go back to my dorm, lock the door, and sleep until the six weeks were over.
 I gathered my books and headed for the side exit of the Humanities building, hoping to avoid the main quad where the gossip-mongers congregated. I was halfway to the bus stop when a shadow fell across the pavement in front of me.
 "Briselle."
 I froze. I knew that voice, and it wasn't Kai’s—it was lighter, friendlier, but it held that same undercurrent.
 I looked up to see Arden. He was leaning against a brick pillar, looking effortlessly casual in a charcoal sweater. There was a sharpness in his eyes that told me he’d seen exactly what had happened at the gala, and probably everything that had happened after.
 "Arden," I said, clutching my bag tighter. "If you're here to give me more 'acting notes' for Kai, I think I've had enough for one lifetime."
 Arden didn't smile. He stepped away from the pillar, his expression unusually grave. He looked around to make sure we were truly alone before stepping closer. He wasn't looking at me like a fan or a gossiping student, he was looking at me like someone who knew exactly how much weight I was carrying.
 "I saw the two of you last night," Arden said softly. " And I saw the way you looked when you left the estate."
 "I was tired, Arden. It was a long night."
 "It was more than that," Arden countered. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze searching mine. 
 "Listen, things are moving faster than Kai expected. Richard isn't satisfied with just a pretty girl on his son's arm. He's looking for the truth."
 My heart gave a nervous skip. "What are you talking about?"
 Arden sighed, looking toward the parking lot where a few students were lingering. He looked back at me, his voice dropping to a serious, hushed tone.
 "Do you have a minute?" he asked. "Could we talk? Somewhere a bit more private?"
 I looked at the bus stop, then back at Arden. I didn’t know what he was about to say, or why he was even talking about Kai’s father in the first place. But I decided to hear him out. 
 “Okay,” I whispered. “Talk.”