Compared to Hell, Summerville sure was… something.
From the moment Sadie materialized on campus, in her mysterious and illusive way (namely popping up in a crowd and separating from it when she was sure nobody was suspicious), something about the place struck her as off. Everything about the University itself screamed old town, old money, historic district, except for the tall dorm buildings that looked decidedly new. Everything was made of brick and stone, shades of faded red and tan and gray that blended beautifully with the well kept foliage. Trees cast their shade across the quad, the lawns were lush and green between smoothly paved walkways.
Nothing explained the strange, unsettling energy she felt. Like cozying up to Mount Vesuvius shortly before it wiped out Pompeii. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental had happened here. Or maybe would happen. Time was pretty iffy in Hell, and her ability to read it in the living world had gotten a little muddled.
Sadie waited patiently in front of the doors to the student center for her tour guide. She felt convincingly new, her orientation papers in hand (despite not having gone). Apparently some older students had volunteered to give transfers tours; hers, according to her papers, was named Ron Winslow. There was nothing else indicating who this guy was, but she was supposed to meet him here.
Students of all ages bustled through the quad, or sprawled beneath the shade of the trees to beat the cloying heat of August. The anonymity felt like a shield, keeping her from being noticed, from standing out. She hadn’t felt so delightfully invisible in ages. Even with the sunglasses perched on her face, the semi-casual jeans and black tank top, the flannel tied around her waist, her usual piercings. She looked normal. She felt normal. She felt human.
“Miss Sadie Morningstar, I presume?”
Oh, thought Sadie, turning toward the sound of the voice. It was a nice voice— deep, a little raspy, the kind that summoned thoughts of smoking and rockstars and epic guitar solos. There’s a slowness to his speech, too, something just on the seductive side of polite.
It matched the face, she thought mildly, feeling a grin stretch over her own. The man was tall and a little gangly, though there was notable strength to his lean limbs. His curls were dark and had been wrangled, barely, into a bun. Sadie clocked his torn black cargo pants and Ghost band tee and thought, perfect.
“That’s me,” she chirped, pretending not to check Ron Winslow out. “Love the sleeve.” She gestured to his arm, a patchwork of beautiful tattoos.
He glanced at it like he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and she saw the faint pink flush hit his cheeks. “Oh! Thanks.” He cleared his throat— she saw his dark, nearly black eyes sweep over her, and reminded herself not to preen at the attention— and scratched at the back of his neck, blush deepening slightly. “I’m, uh— I’m Ronnie. Winslow. I’m— a junior. Music major.”
Sadie decided to give the man a break, and put on her sweetest, most innocent smile. It seemed the better choice over hauling him to the nearest dark corner and giving this adorable, painfully awkward dork the blowjob of his life.
At her subtle shift, he seemed to collect himself, and then half bowed, sweeping an arm out toward the quad at large. “I’ll be your humble guide on the tour du Summerville.”
Oh, she was going to eat this man alive.
“I’m excited,” she said, and meant it. For more reason than one.
“Perfect,” Ronnie purred, curving an arm around her shoulders. She felt deliciously small compared to him. “Right this way, Sweetheart.”
Sadie did preen at the nickname. She loved endearments, loved hearing and giving them, loved the inherent bond that came from using them. Ronnie was already shaping up to be one of her favorite people, and she’d known him a grand total of two minutes.
Glancing at her paper, she caught the winky-face that had appeared beside Ronnie’s name, in ink darker than that of the rest of the page, and realized what had happened.
Lucifer, you sly dog.
“You’re a music minor, right?” Ronnie asked sweetly, guiding her toward one of the buildings close to the student center.
“Music and opera, yes,” she said, tilting her face up toward his. “Child psych major.”
“Ah, she’s smart and pretty!”
Oh, he was bold. God, she adored him already. “You sweet talk all your tourists, or am I special?”
Ronnie dramatically clapped a hand to his heart. “You wound me, Sadie! Each tour is unique and custom tailored to the little sheep I herd through the hellish landscape of the University.” Sadie managed not to snort, but it was a close thing. “Besides, I’ve never been assigned to someone with such great taste in music.” He glanced pointedly at the backpack she’d brought with her, and Sadie had to mentally recatalogue what all she’d put on it. Several pins, a few patches. Probably something from Fall Out Boy and Ghost, but also probably things referencing Broadway Musicals, maybe even Disney movies. It really ran the gamut.
“I’m gonna level with you, Ronnie, I have no idea what all is on there, anymore.”
Ronnie, hand to God, giggled. “It’s quite an eclectic assortment, I must say. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Metallica next to The Mummy.”
“Shame,” Sadie drawled, “The Mummy is a masterpiece.”
“Definitely my bisexual awakening movie.” He sent her a sly grin, one that Sadie reciprocated.
“I suppose that’s somewhere on my backpack, too?” She teased.
“Not at all,” he said, though the way his eyes flicked toward her back pretty much confirmed the lie. “It takes one to know one, yeah?”
If Sadie hadn’t known better, she’d think Lucifer had crafted this man with her in mind, solely to reward her for half a millennia of good behavior.
“The music and performing arts building, Sweetheart,” Ronnie said, holding the door open for her.
The day continued like that, the two of them flirting relentlessly while Ronnie showed her the buildings where she’d be spending most of her time. The library and food court were tucked into the student center, half of her minor classes would be in the auditorium and the other half in the music and performing arts building (MAPA, for short, apparently). Her major classes were mostly in the behavioral sciences building. Sadie had forced herself to familiarize herself with Lucifer’s cover story for her, as a transferring junior with her gen-ed classes covered (thank god. She never wanted to take math again). It never came up, but she was ready anyway.
Ronnie talked about extracurriculars and clubs, fun ice-breaking events he was “totally going to check out” with her (she could practically see the sarcasm dripping out of his mouth). By the time they were done with the tour, stopping in front of the dorm building, Sadie had decided she actually liked Ronnie. Not just in the I’m going to fuck this man into the next life way. Though that was definitely still working its way through her mind.
“Here we are, Princess,” he was saying, while Sadie very dutifully pretended not to check out his ass. Kinda flat, but not too bad. Great hips for grabbing. “Centennial East, your new home-sweet-home.”
Sadie hummed appreciatively. The building was taller than the other buildings, and unexpectedly modern, sleek and silvery in a way that stood out against the rest of the campus. She was a little disappointed it wasn’t made of brick, to be honest. “It’s nice living so close to all our classes, yeah?”
“I’m actually a commuter,” Ronnie admitted, running a hand anxiously through his hair, disturbing the already messy bun it was in. “But if you want someone to show you to your classes when term starts up, I’d be happy to meet up with you and… do that.” Sadie watched the moment his brain and his mouth stopped working together, about the same moment she swindled his phone from his hand, opened his contacts, and added herself in.
“There you go, darling,” she said, sending herself a text. She showed him her own phone as it buzzed. “Now we can talk about The Mummy and our embarrassing crushes on Brendan Fraser anytime we want.”
“Nothing embarrassing about wanting a taste of that,” Ronnie teased. “I’d be more embarrassed if I’d had a crush on Benni.”
“Benni,” Sadie hissed, eyes narrowed. “Slimy rat bastard. He got what he deserved.”
Ronnie snorted. “Alright, Sweetheart, this is where I leave you.” He swept an arm toward her new front door and gave her the same half bow he’d greeted her with. “It’s been an absolute delight, Sadie, darling.”
“Likewise,” Sadie said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’ll let you know when I get my schedule. Maybe we can study together. You can make fun of how bad I am at the circle of fifths.”
Ronnie snorted. “You can make fun of my shitty chicken scratch.”
“Count on it.” With that, Sadie sent him a flirty little wave-and-smile combo, and then pulled out her ID and scanned into the dorms. “Bye, Ronnie.”
Stephanie C Surma 