The Allure of Love

Chapter 13

"And here we are - the inner sanctum where all the sisterly magic happened," Anastasia proclaimed in a hushed tone as she led the group into the cavernous Alpha Sig Sig living room.

The space hadn't changed a bit since her final undergrad days, right down to the faintly floral smell of linen and potpourri wafting through the air. Plush couches and armchairs were arranged in intimate conversational clusters, ottomans overflowing with tasseled throw pillows and well-thumbed novels. A towering stone fireplace dominated the far wall, decorated with a seemingly random assortment of framed composite photos and memorabilia from Alpha Sig's storied history. And stretching across the ceiling beams overhead, a gauzy canopy of sheer fabrics still cascaded in romantic swaths, giving the entire room an unmistakable boudoir ambiance.

Spinning slowly to take it all in, Anastasia fought back a sudden lump in her throat - an unanticipated welling of nostalgia and fondness for this place that had formed the backdrop to some of her most formative memories and personal growth. Her fingertips lightly traced the curve of a velvet-winged armchair, recalling the countless nights spent curled up in that very spot giggling and bonding with her sisters over goblets of cold Mexican rosé until the early morning hours. How innocent and untainted it had all felt then, before the first blush of romantic entanglements and tensions had begun bleeding into the sacred sister-only realm of Alpha Sig Sig.

"Well, well...this sure is giving off some strong Miss Havisham vibes if you ask me," Jack commented in an undertone, sidling up behind Anastasia and surveying the bohemian, curio-filled lair with a dubious expression. "That canopy installation overhead's an awfully heavy boudoir swing-out gambit, don't you think?"

She shot him an exasperated look, elbowing him discreetly in the stomach. "Have a little respect, would you? We're in a former place of hallowed sorority _sanctity_ here, not some backlot Moulin Rouge meets gothic revival fever dream!"

Chuckling under his breath in that infuriatingly smug way he had, Jack simply shrugged before leaning in closer. His lips brushed the shell of Anastasia's ear as he murmured, "If you say so, sweet Annie...though I've certainly had way spicier first-hand experiences with coed housing complexes, if you know what I mean." His warm breath sent a shiver of distraction cascading down her spine before she could help it.

"Ugh, will you two get a room already before you start actively conceiving heirs to this whole dirty grotto vibe you're emanating?" Sam called out with an exasperated snort from where he and Josh were inspecting what looked to be a shadow box of Alpha Sig Sig's founding members. "Some of us are trying to soak in the ambiance while preserving our withering innocence, thank you!"

Pressing her lips together in a smirk, Anastasia reluctantly left the curve of the moth-eaten velvet chair behind, crossing the room to where the other men were gathered. Try as she might, however, she couldn't quite push aside the ghost of sensations creeping up her spine - memories of fingers carding through her hair, familiar trails of kisses being peppered across her throat while nestled into that very armchair...

_No. Enough._ She blinked rapidly, summoning up an effortful buoyancy to her voice as she sidled up next to Sam and Josh to observe whatever they were scrutinizing.

"So, you heathens think that's the legendary Margery Everhurst Von Stuben I've heard so much lore about in this little treasure trove of knick-knacks?"

Behind the dusty glassine of the antique shadowbox, a haunting charcoal portrait of a ramrod straight-backed young woman glared out, her expression utterly inscrutable. She wore a high-necked blouse and velvet skirt cap with ornate jet buttons, the very picture of 19th-century gothic severity and propriety.

"That's the one," Josh confirmed with an irreverent snort, squinting at the sepia-engraved plate below the image. "Margery 'Let No Man Tarnish My Porcelain Visage' Stuben, founder of Alpha Sig Sig and bane of all scoundrels and dissolute fornicators worldwide."

As he spoke, Chris had begun wandering up behind him, apparently intrigued enough by the old sorority memorabilia despite his aloof demeanor for the past half hour. Anastasia felt her chest constrict instinctively at his proximity, a skittish swooping low in her stomach. With effort, she forced herself to focus on the oddities in the shadowbox rather than turn towards him and have any sort of loaded interaction.

Gingerly fingering the gilded bronze badger figurine poking out among the souvenirs, Sam nodded. "Seriously, rumor had it this old battle ax went absolutely Carolingian plague level on any sister even _rumored_ to be fraternizing with the gentleman callers of the day."

He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically at Anastasia. "Thank your lucky stars none of us were around then to get Medieval hellfire and castration rained down upon our scalawag souls. We'd have given the old crone a heart malady just being within these hallowed walls!"

Ordinarily, the scenario he was describing would have had Anastasia howling in amused disbelief alongside her oldest friends. But for some reason, at this moment, in this place steeped so nostalgically in private dreams and yearnings, she couldn't quite muster the expected guffaw at Sam's ribbing. Something weighed heavily in her chest, a sinking lump of wistfulness and rue that threatened to smother any playful pretense.

Unbidden, her gaze flickered up from the shadowbox to meet Chris's eyes in a loaded moment of connection, as if pulled there by magnetic forces.

For a heart-stuttered instant, Anastasia was right back in the center of their old orbit's gravity, transported through a swirling vortex of poignant memories suffused with tenderness and yearning. Late nights during sorority clean sweeps when Chris would show up toting boxes of supplies like a pack mule at her whim. Lazy afternoons napping curled up together on this very divan, his sketchbook spilling open beside them as she lolled with her feet in his lap. Even the slightest brush of fingers exchanged during Alpha Sig Sig's legendary fete weekends sending electric tingles down to her core...

She forced herself to blink, releasing a shaky exhale to dispel the reel of images and sensations swirling. It was only after a slight shake of his head that Anastasia realized Chris had been trying to regain her attention, his brow knitting in mild concern as he studied her face intently.

"Penny for your thoughts there, Annie?" he murmured, voice dropping to an intimate register despite their friends shuffling and breaking boxes just a few feet away. God, she had almost forgotten just how deeply resonant his baritone could be up close - its sound vibrating through her very marrow. "You looked like you just traveled to a galaxy far, far away for a second back there. Everything good in the here and now?"

Though ostensibly innocuous in phrasing, there was an undeniable undercurrent to his gentle query that momentarily dispelled any breath in Anastasia's lungs. She frantically scrambled to rebuild the armor plating around her feelings that had briefly loosened during that lapse. But how to even begin responding with any coherence when one softly whispered endearment from this man could upend her entire world in a single blow?

Fortunately, she was spared the necessity of an immediate retort by Jack materializing abruptly behind her with all the subtle grace of a barrel of live rattlesnakes.

"Well well, what's this fascinating new crop of mementos you eagle-eyed lads have unearthed for us?" he announced jovially, swanning into the circle and jostling his way between Anastasia and Chris with complete obliviousness.

He gave Chris an overtly assessing once-over, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly before leaning in to peer directly at Anastasia. "Let's see if you were one of the storied sirens who used to grace these hallowed walls back in the day, doll? Or were you perhaps a brooding background spectator like Winchester here instead?"

Affixing his most roguish grin, Jack wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before hooking an arm around Anastasia's waist and tugging her flesh against his