Grace Unchained

6: Supper Club

They'd met, of all places, at the Ivy Club at Princeton.

Neither of them were members, just attending a party at the invitation of friends, which might have explained why they ended up talking to each other. Grace was more than familiar with Princeton's eating clubs, having bickered at The Tiger Inn at the insistence of her friend Jess, who felt it their moral obligation to support the growing but tentatively accepted gender equality within the selective eating clubs.

That had ended after Grace had found herself locked in an upstairs room with an intoxicated club officer, who had announced that he was determined to "have that sweet Irish pussy" for dessert. A sharp knee to the groin and a lot of yelling later, she and Jess had rushed out of the ancient Tudor building and decided perhaps simply disdaining the tradition entirely was a better plan.

She wasn't quite sure how she'd let herself get talked into a party at the older and even more prestigious Ivy Club, but she was fairly sure that it had something to do with a slight crush she'd contracted for a sophomore who, despite being quite a sweet boy otherwise, had an unfortunate need for approval from the college's social elite.

Having learned her lesson about getting too chummy with the types of "men" who frequented eating club parties, Grace ended up drinking wine in a corner while her purported date brown-nosed club members. Which was where she'd found Darius.

He wasn't a student. She didn't think he'd attended any college, let alone Princeton, but he had a knack for fitting in with this crowd. He pulled off the character of bored aristocrat quite convincingly. He was older, perhaps late twenties, and had come as the guest of a club member who had long ago disappeared into another room with a very naïve freshman. He seemed quite debonair and sure of himself at the time, though later on Grace would realize that he had likely taken to their secluded corner for the same reason she had: to escape from the WASPy sea of old monied spawn getting drunk on expensive booze.

He'd engaged her in conversation politely. She didn't feel like he was hitting on her, which was a change from most conversations she had at these parties. She wasn't sure how, but it had quickly become clear that to one extent or another they both felt like outsiders there, and the mild tension of conversation with a stranger broke when he made a joke about ridiculous preppy haircuts. Grace laughed wholeheartedly, forgetting to maintain the usual ladylike appearance. Darius had liked it, apparently, because he seemed to grow more comfortable too.

She hadn't really expected to enjoy herself at this party, but she could think of worse ways to spend the evening than flirting with a handsome, intelligent man with a good sense of humor. And Darius was handsome. His skin was a warm golden tone, and his hair, which he wore cropped very close to his head, was jet black with a hint of curl to it. He was obviously of Middle Eastern descent, but he spoke with what sounded like a slight British accent. Grace found her gaze drawn repeatedly back to his, to his bow-shaped lips and the sparkling white teeth that hid behind them.

Things took a different turn when he asked her what she was planning to do after graduation. It was an innocent enough question—one most upperclassmen were asked on a regular basis. Darius had no way of knowing that it was a particularly sensitive question for Grace, however.

She must have dropped her guard, somehow; looking back, she could remember the panic verging on anguish she felt at having to address the idea of life after college. Likely something had shown in her face: a slight expression of dismay, perhaps, or a faltered smile. Darius was a close judge of people, and noticed it immediately. He apologized for the question.