Kings College (Philidosia/Phildosia Fan Fiction)

Chapter 2

I see Ace propped up against the pillar, glaring at me as I leave the office. This should be fun.

"Ace," I say rather coldly.

"Angel," he gives me a wicked smirk, "We need to have a little DISCUSSION."

I swallow my nervousness. "I'd rather not, I need to get home for supper. It's getting dark, don't you think?"

I walk past him, holding my head high only to have my arm yanked to the side. I see Ace dragging me somewhere, and I shout in protest. He quickly wraps an arm around my waist, placing a hand over my mouth and pulling us to an alleyway. The sound of shoes slacking against the pavement becomes louder, and Ace begins to panic.

He grabs my face and forces my lips onto his, kissing me intently as I protest. From the side of Ace's head, I see a man with a goatee, long hair in q a ponytail and strong build look at us before shrugging and walking away. Ace finally lets go of me, and I stumble back, shocked and angry.

"You imbecile!" I shout on his face. "How dare you kiss me without my consult! I am a woman with pride and, gosh danggit, a GOOD REPUTATION! What if someone I knew saw this, this, prosperous event!"

I pull both my gloves off quickly, holding them together and using the back side of them to hit Ace as hard as possible on his left cheek. Once I was finished, I put my gloves back on, furious, and storm out of the alleyway.

I hear him, knowing it's him, following me. "Don't ever TRY to come after me, bucko!"

Thankfully, the sound stops, and I know he gave up on trying. My fast pace sent my dress flying up behind me, and my face ever more angry. I quickly arrive at the house, slamming the door behind me. The door quivers behind me, and I angrily tear my gloves and coat off, grabbing the letters before shoving my coat onto the rack. My father was standing in the kitchen, cutting up garnish leaves, as I stomp in. Throwing the letters to the table then run up the stairs to kick my shoes off my feet.

"General!" My father's voice booms, beckoning me downstairs. I come downstairs, my angry spiral plummeting.

He stands next to the table, his arms crossed and him tapping a beat with his foot. He sees me, raising an eyebrow then points to the letters.

"Theodosia Burr Jr, care to explain that little tantrum you just threw?" He asks me, crossing his arms again.

I bow my head, embarrassed. "I-I,..." I contemplate over whether to lie or not. "When I was going to get the letters..."

I decide to lie. I'm a good liar anyway.

"I ran into a man, and he mocked me for the enrollment letter. I got furious but he kept telling me women aren't meant for something as "prestigious" as college." I lie, pretending to grow slightly angry, looking to the floor shamefully.

"That was wrong of that man." My father says. I look up at him in alarm, he never talks like that. "That was very wrong of any man to mock a girl with a dream of education. You have every right to come home angry."

He pauses.

"However, Theodosia, that does not mean you can throw things around in the house. When you are upset, it doesn't matter why or how, you can always confide in me. I want you to. Even if you're furious at me, I'll help you. I won't judge you. Then, when I die, you can confide in your husband willingly." He says, "or if you don't want to get married, you can confide in friends."

I bow my head, nodding. "Yes Papa, I will always act mature over this situations."

Papa nods, content with my agreement. "Thank you, I made fruit salad for dinner. Why don't you go wash up and I'll serve the plates?"

I nod, then leave the room towards the washroom. I turn the water on, let my hands soak under the cold liquid before turning it off and drying my hands on a towel. I return to the dining room, sitting on the seat next to my father. We hold hands and pray, then eat our meal.

"How was today?" I ask half-heartedly, my mind somehow distracted.

"Well, today was chaotic. Alexander..." This is  about the part I begin zoning out. I can't focus on his words, and the only thing I can think to do is stab my fork into vegetables and force them in my mouth.

I begin to think of a certain curly haired demon. And his smirk. And lips. Those pink lips on mine to make it seem like a deep make out session. And how intent and concentrated he was doing so, treating me almost like a porcelain doll he's afraid to break. I start to wonder why the heck he kissed me, but all my brain asks is when he's going to do it again. I'm ashamed of my inappropriate thought process, and stare at the white bowl.

"Not to mention, I was the one who - Theodosia, are you listening?" My father demands, pulling me from my thoughts.

I stare at him like a deer in headlights. I'd been caught.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asks. Then, before I realize, places a hand on my cheek before taking it back shocked. "You're burning up."

I turn my head slightly, if only he knew why. "You know Papa, my stomach has been giving me grief. I'm so sorry for cutting dinner short, I'm going to head to bed."

"Take a bath first," he tells me, "it'll help calm your muscles."

"Okay, thank you Papa." I kiss his forehead.

"Get good rest, General." Papa smiles, standing to collect the dishes as I leave. I hear up the stairs, getting a bucket from the sink and fill it with water to pour into the tub. I do this for five minutes before it's almost full, then strip down to my socks.

I gently ease myself into the warm water, my body relaxing at it's soothing touch. Soon, I find myself engulfed by my thoughts.

Ace.... Why would he kiss me? Who was the man that spotted us? Is he important in Ace's life? Is Ace scared of him? Why did people react the way they when he looked up from our fallen positions? Is he one of the famous eight? But who? James Madison? I've heard James Madison is quite young to be a member of the Founding Fathers. Maybe he's Philip Hamilton. Oh Lord, there's no way he's Philip Hamilton, the Hamilton's and Burr's don't get along. He saw my letter, I'm assuming he knows my father. He might even be John Adams! Though he seems far too young for that. Ace looks maybe 20, maybe older, so I think the James Madison possibility is the best guess. Though, for some reason, the idea of him being James Madison doesn't settle right. Like it's almost, .... a truthful lie.

I let myself sink into the water, having it stop barely under my nose. I sigh.

Why is this so complicated?

My eyes slowly get heavier and I haul myself out of the bath. Slipping on a silk nightgown, and finding a way under my bed covers. The dark and warm sleeping world finds me and I'm quickly pulled into a dreamless sleep.