Evans
Ever since we’d returned from winter break almost a month ago, and that disastrous weekend in Crest Haven, things in the house had changed.
They’d shifted and I hated it. Was it because Zale was barely home anymore, spending most of his time with his omega mate?
Or was it because of how we’d left the Vos cabin, and our friends, coming back to Oakley without them?
My bruises had finally faded. My father had dealt with the fight so that everything was swept under the rug and my record was kept spotless.
Physically, I was back to normal, but mentally it felt like my world had tilted and everything was off kilter.
I just couldn't put my finger on why. I’d been in trouble before, so it wasn’t that.
Maybe I was trying too hard to get my life back on track? I was Benedict Crawford and one weekend wasn’t going to change that. So, why did I feel like crawling out of my own skin?
“For fucks sake!” Hunter grumbles as he wanders into the kitchen, scratching at the tattoos sprawled across his chest. He’s shirtless as per usual, wearing just a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips.
About a week ago, he changed his usual braids, dyeing his shoulder length hair a crazy shade of blue instead.
“Do you have to be so loud in the morning?”
Things between us were tense. He was just always…
there. Everywhere I looked, and it wasn’t because we lived together either.
He was in the same coffee shops, the same bars, and at football games my gaze landed on him in the stands.
He was everywhere, wanting to talk about Crest Haven, whereas I wanted to never talk about it again.
Staring at him, our eyes lock.
I press the button on the blender again, ignoring his grumpy complaints.
My routine was the same as always. It was safer that way.
I got up, went for a run, and took a shower.
I made my protein shake and then I left for practice or the gym or lectures.
Always the same cycle on repeat. Weekends were when I cut loose, but the week, the week is what kept me sane.
“Dude, I’m just making breakfast.” I grunt as he switches the blender off at the plug. It doesn’t matter, I was done anyway.
“That isn’t breakfast.” He gives my shake a look of disgust as he eyes up the pale colored gloop I’m pouring into my shaker. Yeah, it might look like cold cat chunder but it was good for muscle repair.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I forgot that if it’s not rice and beans it doesn't count as a meal.” I roll my eyes. I wasn’t going to be judged for my healthy protein shake when Hunter was a one meal pony. He literally didn’t know how to cook anything else.
“Hahaha.” He grabs a mug from the cupboard and runs a hand through his slightly greasy hair. Where was he last night?
For the last two weeks he hasn’t been coming home at night or if he has, it’s been at strange hours like two in the morning. I mean it’s nothing to do with me but wherever he’s going or whatever he’s doing, it’s clearly making him a grumpy bastard.
“Is there even coffee in the pot?”
“I’m not a magic coffee pot reader. Did you check?” I ask knowing that he hasn’t. He reaches for the pot and finds it half full since Blake had already put on a fresh brew this morning before his workout session.
Hunter glares at me. There are dark circles under his eyes and I squirm under his gaze. I don’t know if it’s because he’s an artist or because he’s just Hunter, but it always feels like he’s staring straight into my soul.
And I don’t want that.
Since winter break it’s like we’ve moved from being friends to another awkward stage that isn’t quite best friends, but there’s an odd intimacy between us.
Overfamiliar. I’m afraid if he looks at me for too long, then the control I’m barely clinging to with the tips of my fingers will crack and split wide open.
I can’t handle that. Not now.
“Another late night?” I say bitterly as I rinse out the jug from the blender.
“Something like that…” he replies, amusement in his eyes as he casually stretches, his toned body on display like some marble sculpture.
He grins when he catches me looking.
“Well, if you weren't so busy hooking up, you might get some decent sleep and not be so cranky in the mornings.” I wince as I slam the lid onto my protein shaker. Fuck. Why did I say that?
Why do I care?
I don’t.
But now he’s going to think that I care.
“Hmmmmmm, but then when else would I get to see you frothing at the mouth with jealousy?” He reaches out and strokes my cheek with a grin.
“Pft. What have I got to be jealous about?” I huff, shaking him off. Who cares who he’s fucking? It's not like I come home to an empty bed either.
“That I’m out here, doing what I want–who I want–while you’re sharing a bed with a banshee.”
“Don’t call her a banshee.” I roll my eyes again, I knew it was coming.
He always has some weird name to call her.
Sadie, my friends with benefits who won’t quite face the fact that we are nothing more than friends with benefits.
After the weekend in the cabin, I’d tried to break it off with her…
but once again I’d been sucked back in. That doesn’t matter, it doesn’t give him the right to call her weird names.
He dumps three spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee and stirs it with a thoughtful face. “A succubus? A dick-sucking siren?”
Taking a step towards me, he leans in, voice low in my ear.
This close I can smell his familiar scent of spiced oranges laced with turpentine.
The same scent I haven’t quite been able to forget.
“Tell me, did you actually call her after your breakup this time or did she just magically appear in your bed again?”
Barging him with my shoulder I push past him. “Fuck you, man.”
“Woah, what’s happening here?” Blake says as he enters the kitchen looking between us, eyes narrowing. He’s freshly showered, towel around his neck as he starts preparing his post work-out breakfast snack.
Hunter doesn’t take his pale blue eyes off me as he sips his coffee, lips quirking up around the rim. Is he enjoying this? Fucker. “Evans is being loud.”
“Hunter is being a dick.” I know I sound petty right now, but he started it.
“Okay…” Blake shrugs.”So, standard housemate shit. But what’s with all this tension? It reeks, bro.”
I hadn’t noticed it, but our pheromones had spiked, filling the kitchen with the unique scent of two frustrated alphas. It was a deep musky scent that was slightly bitter around the edges.
“Is there a problem we need to talk about?” Blake was always the level headed one in the house, and usually Hunter was so chilled he was practically horizontal. But not anymore, not around me apparently.
“No problem here.” Hunter says with his mug in one hand and the other held up as if in surrender. The corner of his mouth lifts again when he looks at me. He’s taunting me, I know it. I know him.
“You sure about that?” Blake asks gaze ping-ponging between us as he tries to gauge whether or not he needs to intervene.
“No problem here either.” I grumble under my breath as I grab my workout bag from the floor, hook it over my shoulder and leave, protein shake in hand.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of my feet pounding on the grass echoes in my ears as I keep a steady pace. Sometimes, when I can’t think or when I need space, I find the best place to be is on the football field running laps.
Although I have my headphones, today I just want to hear the sound of my feet slapping on the floor, my heart rate, and my own breath as I try to settle the unease that seems to have settled under my skin.
Why has everything with him got to be a battle?
Why is it a play for power?
Now I can’t even make a protein shake in the morning without it becoming a big deal. Without having to deal with his half naked ass making comments about Sadie and taunting me about who he’s spending his nights with.
Not that I care.
Why would I?
I make another lap of the field, my heart thumping like the steady beat of a drum, slowly increasing as the tempo picks up.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
A small voice in the back of my head whispers, you know you care. I push it aside and focus on my feet. I push on, keep going, keep running, I tell myself.
I don’t have a class this morning and for once in my life I’m ahead with my essays.
Avoiding your housemate seems to magically have that effect.
Since I’d been spending more time than usual cooped up in my room, avoiding Hunter, it gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up on work after the winter break.
I knew he was going to bring Sadie up, but I don’t know what to say to him.
I don’t have the words to explain it. At the cabin, I thought that was it.
I thought we were over. I told her clearly, in front of everyone, that we were finished.
When I first met her, I made it clear that I am not the alpha you bring home to your parents—I don’t believe in marriage or forever. How could I?
My father was on his third divorce with wife number four probably lurking on the horizon. None of them ever stuck around long enough to make me believe that love is real. No, I believed in partnership. Friendship. Friends with benefits. Sexual compatibility.
But love?
Never.
I run until my legs shake and there’s an ache in my chest but it’s still not enough. Deciding to do one more lap, I push on. It’s still early morning and I like that I have the field to myself. No interruptions. No one to witness me run myself into the ground.
If I’m exhausted, I won’t think so hard. I won’t dwell on thoughts that I have no place entertaining.
Society has very firm rules on what is acceptable, especially when you live in a world like ours. Oakley University is where the wealthiest alphas and omegas attend, hoping to forge lifelong networks, friendships and marriages. We all know why we’re here.