Page 43 of Lessons in Touch

“God, Rose. You’re just… brilliant.”

Chapter 15

Rose

I check my phone again to make sure there’s no update. Tonight is the party Liam invited me to—an exclusive gathering where he promised I’d finally see what Wolfswood is really about. Part of me wishes I had declined. But another, more restless side—the one tired of feeling like an outsider—knows I have to go.

Gabriel gave me this piece of advice, too. I need to make friends with the other students. And what better way of doing it than a party?

At three o'clock sharp, there is a knock on my door. A woman with immaculate silver hair and kind eyes introduces herself as Helena, my stylist for the evening. She wheels in a rack of dresses and sets up what looks like a professional salon in my dormitory room.

"Miss Devereaux," she says, studying my face with an artist's eye. "We're going to make you look radiant tonight."

For the next two hours, Helena works her magic. She washes and styles my hair into elegant waves that cascade over one shoulder. Then she applies my makeup—immaculate and natural-looking. When she holds up the mirror, I barely recognize myself.

With her keen stylist’s eye, she selects a midnight blue dress with delicate beading. It’s stunning, exquisite, and completely unlike anything I’ve ever owned. It flows like water, smooth and weightless. When I slip it on, Helena nods approvingly.

"Perfect," she declares. "You look like a movie star!"

Only a few minutes later, Helena packs up her supplies and leaves me with some final instructions about posture and poise. After she leaves, I sit on my bed, checking the time every few minutes until Liam's text arrives:

Meet me by the east gardens at 8.

I realize that I forgot to ask Helena what coat I should wear, so now I have to make this decision on my own. I choose my black overcoat, even though it doesn’t go that well with the dress. It’s snowing a little outside, and this December is colder even than winters in England.

Since Liam didn’t want to pick me up, I walk across campus alone. Everything feels surreal. I’m cold and hyperaware of how different I look, how different I feel. Other students make their way in the same direction, all dressed with the same expensive elegance.

And then I spot him. Liam is waiting exactly where he said he'd be, leaning against a tree with his hands in his pockets. When he sees me, his entire face changes.

"Rose," he says, pushing off from the tree. "You look incredible."

"Thank you. Where exactly are we going?"

He gestures toward a path I've never noticed before, one that winds through a section of overgrown hedges.

"It's a surprise. But trust me, you're going to love it."

We walk in comfortable silence at first. Other students emerge from various paths, joining us. I recognize some faces from my classes, but they all seem different tonight. More confident, secretive somehow.

Our path leads to an old chapel tucked away in the far corner of the institute’s grounds. It’s smaller than I imagined—crumbling stone on the outside, stained glass windows dulled by time. Inside, I hear music and bursts of laughter echoing through the space.

"This place has been here since Wolfswood was founded," Liam explains as we approach the entrance. "It's where the real traditions happen."

The chapel has been transformed into a party space. Red bulbs cast pools of warm light across the room. Along the edges, tables groan under the weight of expensive food and drinks. Students lounge on velvet cushions, vintage couches, and antique chairs that were brought in just for tonight.

The atmosphere is beautiful and decadent. I've never experienced anything like that.

Liam immediately guides me toward the bar and presses a crystal glass into my hand. "Try this. It’s cognac," he says. "A family recipe."

The liquid is golden and burns slightly as it goes down. I take small sips while Liam drinks much more freely, glass after glass like it’s plain water. His movements become looser with each glass, and it makes me uncomfortable.

"So what do you think?" he asks me, now standing too close.

“I don’t know yet. I mean, I’ve been to college parties before. When I was at Kings’, back in London. But they were pretty regular. You know, a normal party at a pub or in someone’s apartment. This is… so different.”

I look around and notice the other students completely at ease, as if they've done this hundreds of times before. Some dance to a psychedelic music I can't quite identify. Others are engaged in intense conversations that are paused when outsiders approach.

"You're so beautiful, Rose," Liam repeats. "I've been thinking about you constantly since I asked you to come here."