Chapter 5 – Shiloh
Chapter Five
Shiloh
“ C an’t you just stay a little longer?” Bell begs, refusing to move their legs off my lap. They’re wearing a pair of tiny pajama shorts, an oversized jumper and a pair of thigh high socks while we lay on the sofa and watch a cheesy romcom. It wasn’t my usual choice of film, but Bell was in need of comfort and a happily ever after.
When we’d moved into our apartment just off campus at the start of the school year, it was easily the best decision I’ve ever made. Our place wasn’t exactly tiny, but it was cozy. Bell had filled it with lots of soft furnishings, colorful ornaments and made it homely in a way that my actual home had never been. The little potted plants through-out the two-bedroom apartment were just the pièce de resistance.
The downside was that Bell wasn’t exactly the tidiest housemate, spreading out their stuff on almost every surface and they had a tendency to get a little clingy depending where they were in their cycle. Currently they were due to go into heat, and as a result hated the idea of me leaving the apartment even though the second the heat hit, they’d be shoving me out of the door so they could get laid. I wonder if I’d be seeing Colton, or maybe even Evans around any time soon.
I barely remember the last time I went into heat, the suppressants keeping my cycle from behaving normally. I think it might have been sometime last year? Four times a year was normal for an omega, but some, like my sister and I, could experience it six or seven times. Ironically, it was due to these extra heats that my mother had us register with a specialist. A specialist, who also happened to be a family friend and who for an extortionate amount of money, was happy to keep providing me with suppressants under a fake name.
Some omegas like Bell saw their heats as a time for fun, whereas others like Sadie and my sister saw it as a way to determine your life partner. It wasn't like every heat had to end with a Claiming mark or an unplanned pregnancy, there were precautions and options out there that meant sometimes, heat sex was simply really good heat sex.
My faded bite mark burns, a reminder that someone out there tried to Claim me. My sex life, apart from that one night, was practically non-existent. I couldn’t risk anyone on campus finding out I was an omega, not after everything I’d been through trying to stay on the sidelines until I was done with college.
A small voice in the back of my mind wonders, if I had been in heat, would it have taken? Would I be bound to a stranger right now? Would I be happier?
Sighing softly, I keep rubbing Bell’s feet gently. “Urgh, I wish. But the project is worth 20% of the final grade.”
The stale old tutor had given us a group assignment with a wicked gleam in his eye. Lots of students took his class precisely because they assumed it would be an easy ride but he had apparently drawn a line in the sand with this little task.
While I hadn’t told Bell about the whiteboard, I have no doubt they’d heard about it from someone else. Unlike me, Bell was a social butterfly, flitting amongst the others, making friends wherever they went. It was feeding into their need to cling to me like a koala. If I was a kangaroo, they’d be snuggled in my pouch occasionally demanding snacks.
They hadn’t said anything, but had offered me my own bag of chocolate covered pretzels, which was practically unheard of in this apartment, because if we had them, they were gone in the blink of an eye.
Bell whines, the needy noise making me chuckle as they wiggle their socked toes. “But how will they know? If someone else just does it and you all put your names on it?”
Carefully, I lift their legs off me and slide out from underneath. “Because we have to write a critical evaluation to go with it? And I will know.”
“You could just lie.” Bell tuts, as if that was the obvious answer.
“Who does that?” Why would people pay stupid amounts of money to not even take part in the class properly? Why even bother coming to college?
Checking my reflection in the hallway mirror, I run my hands through my dark waves in a lazy attempt to tame them. Bell liked to buy products especially for curly hair, and recently I’d been using it to try and make my waves look less like I was dragged backwards through a bush and more…deliberate? It wasn’t working, clearly.
It was only a study session, so I’d thrown on my navy high-neck sweater and the jeans from Saturday night because actually, I liked how long they made my legs look. My glasses were long gone, probably at the bottom of Colton’s pool but that was okay because they weren’t prescription anyway. I looked like myself, but also different. As I try pushing up my sleeves, narrowing my gaze at my reflection in the mirror as I try to work out what’s changed.
Throwing back their head, Bell laughs. “Everyone does it, Shilly.”
Bell often teases me for being an odd duck. And by odd duck, they mean someone who needs the world to make sense.
People go to college to learn. They do the projects and hand the assignments in, instead of looking for an easy out. At least, that's how it should be but Oakley university was filled with people who had more influence and money than morals. It was essentially a marriage mart for wealthy and powerful omegas and alphas if you thought about it cynically.
Tugging down the neck of my sweater to check if my mark has faded any more, I roll my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’ll grow on you,” Bell teases as they pull a large blanket over themselves and start streaming another romcom. I don’t miss the way they’re eyeing up the half-finished pack of pretzels I left on the coffee table.
“No. It’s not a bacteria or fungus. It won’t grow on me, and if it did, I’d go and see a doctor.”
Bell makes a purring noise, “Hmmm your doctor is cute.”
Blinking, I stare back at my reflection. Cute? Zion Strange has been my doctor since I was a teenager, and while he was a young doctor, I still wouldn’t call him cute. Especially since, weaning me off my suppressants was his favorite topic of conversation every time I stopped by for my refill.
Quickly grabbing my satchel, checking I have everything, before snatching my keys off the hook. “Zion is not cute.”
“Mmmmhmmmm. He’s got that salt and pepper thing going on.” Bell’s attention back on the movie as they call over their shoulder. “You’re going to be late.”
“Shit!” I hiss, grabbing my scarf and coat.
I rush over to campus, speed walking when no one was around just to make sure that I wasn’t the last to arrive, even if I wouldn’t be the first. Beneath my clothes, I can feel my skin turn sticky and slick with sweat as the coffee shop finally comes into view.
It turns out I needn’t have worried.
I’ve been sitting by the coffee shop window for twenty minutes already, my Frappuccino turned into nothing more than a melted slush at the bottom of the cup when I notice a shadow being cast over my workbooks.
“Where’s everyone else?” Zale Blackwood glares at me, a textbook in one hand, the other clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline. His hair is damp, and given the gym bag slung over his shoulder, I assume he’s coming back from a workout.
Even if my twin wasn’t dating Zale, and he wasn’t in my business class, I would have had to live in a blackhole to not know who he was and where he fitted into the hierarchy at Oakley.
While he wasn't a quarterback, that was Blake King, Bell explained that he was an Alpha cornerback, which meant he was quick, both physically and mentally as it was his job to anticipate the quarterback and defend against offensive running plays. He was important, at least in the collegiate football scheme of things.
Outside of that, he was the heir to Blackwood Tech, an empire that started off developing digital healthcare systems and branched out into computer services and hardware. He came from wealth and power, and when he surrounded himself with people like Sadie, I knew everything about him I needed to.
Shrugging, I return to looking at my books, “How should I know?”
I should have left fifteen minutes ago. Kicking myself internally, I ignore the way his gaze burns into my skin. My skin flushes, and I find myself rubbing my thumb beneath the neck of my sweater.
There were supposed to be six of us in the group. Me, plus Zale…well, that's two. Who knows where the other four are? Family emergencies? Maybe they simply vanished into another dimension. Maybe they’ve all been struck down with the same bug. Right now I can’t find it in me to care. I just wanted him to leave me get on with my work.
“Maybe they’re just running late…” Zale coughs awkwardly as I raise a brow at him.
“All of them?”
He takes a seat opposite me, fingers tapping against the cover of his textbook as if he’s anxious. “Maybe they’re–”
I hold my hand up to cut off his words. “Not coming.”
“Shit.” He leans back in his seat, sliding one of his huge hands through his blond hair.
Ignoring him, I go back to making notes. When it becomes obvious he isn’t leaving, just sitting there, staring at me, nostrils twitching every time my highlighter scratches against the paper. “You don’t have to stay.”
His tongue flicks out, and he licks at his bottom lip looking away. It’s awkward. Everything about this whole interaction is. “But we need to do this stupid project.”
Clicking the lid back onto the pen, I sigh. Why did it have to be Zale of all people? Just the other week I ‘wasn’t worth the effort’ and now I can’t seem to get rid of him.
“I can email you and we can divide the workload without us having to actually be in the same space.” Stacking my books neatly, I can’t keep the attitude out of my voice when I say, “You clearly don’t want to be here.”
Neither of us say anything, the noise of the coffee shop bustle surrounding us while we sit there in silence. Just looking at one another.
He tilts his head, “You know, you’re nothing like Millie.”
That’s the understatement of the year. If we didn’t have the same surname, and the same eyes and mouth, at a push, I think people wouldn't even guess we were related.
I snort at his insightful comment, “That’s because Romilly is her own person. We aren’t the same, just twins.”
He still doesn’t make a move to leave, instead he seems more determined to stay as he reaches out and begins to play with one of my pens, tapping it against the table top. “You’re definitely…different. But aren’t twins supposed to be the same?”
Narrowing my eyes, it's my turn to glare. “If we were identical, then I would be a girl.”
“You’d also be an omega,” he pauses, as if something else has just occurred to him.
I know my suppressants work—they've been tried and tested for years…apart from that one occasion. That one random fucking night. So why can I feel myself starting to sweat as I sit opposite Zale?
Thankfully the jock can barely concentrate for longer than five minutes, constantly tapping, fiddling or moving. The alpha is too stupid and too distracted to notice anything amiss, so why is my heart racing like I’m afraid?
“And your point is?” I cluck my tongue and tear a scrap of paper out my notebook, handing it to him with a pen. “Look, give me your email, I’ll divide the work out and we can just do it from the comfort of our own homes, yeah? None of this risky socializing business.”
Zale blinks slowly, hand hesitantly reaching for the paper. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”
“Am I hurting your fragile ego, Zale?”
He snatches the paper from me, my skin feeling like it’s on fire where he brushes against me. “You know, you don’t always have to be a prickly asshole.”
“I disagree.” If I let myself be soft around these people, I know exactly what will happen. They’ll use me up, take everything from me until I’m nothing more than a weathered husk of myself. I’ve seen it happen. You don’t get to live amongst the elite and ignore the cracks forever.
Zale scrawls his personal and college email on the scrap along with his phone number before handing it back to me. “No wonder people talk shit about you.”
“Yeah, because they all know me so well.” I snort, pushing to my feet and wrapping my scarf around my neck. As I slip my coat on and pack my bag, I ignore the way his mouth opens and closes like some sort of stunned goldfish. “See you later, Zale.”
“No, wait. Shiloh…” I know he’s going to try to claw back his words, but it’s too late. Let him think what he wants. Let him believe the gossip. It’s nothing new.
I move past him without so much as a glance backwards, and it isn’t until I’m standing on the frosty sidewalk with his details balled up in my fist that I realize my heart is still racing. Winter break needs to come quicker, clearly, I was losing my grip on sanity being around so many Alphas and power-hungry omegas.