5. Brylee
5
brYLEE
I wiggle through the window of my dorm room like a damn worm, landing on the faded beige carpet with a muffled oomf .
I really, really need to come up with a better system for sneaking in and out of my dorm—especially if there’s any hope of pulling this scheme off.
Rolling to my feet, I slip off my black cape and then the hiking backpack I borrowed from Caran, which is practically as tall as I am.
Now, where do I hide a bag that contains a full-on bodysuit and penis? I would have a lot of questions to answer if anyone were to discover it. The fake penis I could explain away. I’m sure I’m not the first omega to find pleasure through an inanimate object. The body attached to it? Well, maybe I can say that I like snuggling at night.
I cover my mouth to hide my laughter. Though I’m no longer drunk, I’m teetering on the edge of tired-silly.
Yeah.
That’s certainly a believable excuse.
Quickly, I shove my backpack underneath my bed, only the damn thing gets stuck because it’s so thick. With a very omega-like grunt, I shove my shoulder into it and force the fucker under the bed.
Breathing hard, I stand back, placing my hands on my hips. There. It’s done. There’s no going back now.
An indecipherable feeling arrows through me. It takes a moment too long to realize it’s panic.
Am I really doing this?
What will happen if I get caught?
My parents will kill me.
But it’s not the idea of my parents catching me that makes my stomach jangle like a warning bell. No. The idea of an alpha catching me. Or a group of them.
I inhale through my nose, hold my breath for a count of ten, and then blow out roughly through pursed lips, trying not to let dread creep in.
It won’t happen, I swear to myself. You won’t let it happen.
Forcing myself to think of my twin—my better half—the residual panic is swept away in a tidal wave. Teddie will succumb to his disease if he’s forced to participate in the grueling trials of Eros Academy. I have no choice.
Determination steels my resolve.
I can do this.
I can fucking do this.
I grab a hair tie off my wrist and twist my long blonde hair into a messy knot at the nape of my neck. I should get an email from Caran with my updated class schedule soon, but for now, I need to get ready for bed.
Each dorm consists of two bedrooms connected by a bathroom. There’s nothing in my room except for a single twin-size bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. The beige carpeting, eggshell white walls, and gray ceiling give the entire space a bland, monochromatic look. The only color is the purple of my bedspread—given to me by Teddie when I first started at Darling Academy.
A tiny smile tugs up my lips when I think of my brother.
Before the disease took hold of him, he had been larger-than-life, a living, breathing flame dissipating the darkness in any room. We would often sneak out of our parents’ castle and have “adventures” in the gardens behind it, pretending to be pirates or spies or runway models. We would sometimes laugh so hard that milk would come squirting out of our noses—which of course only served to infuriate our parents. But it never mattered to Teddie whether or not he had their approval. He lived life the way he wanted to—without limitations or restraint.
Sometimes, I wish I could be more like him. Especially these days.
Maybe pretending to be him will let me live out that wish a little.
I step into the tiny bathroom, flick on the light, and then turn toward the mirror. As I begin the meticulous task of removing my makeup, I wonder if I’ll be able to pull this off.
When I tried on the suit and argued with Ted, I’d been all bravado and confidence. Now, panic beats in my chest like a snare drum as I study my newly makeup-free reflection in the mirror. I try to see if my expression looks manly. If my face looks too feminine.
Freckles dot both of my cheeks and the top of my dainty nose. My features are decidedly feminine, almost elfin, with a slightly pointed chin, cupid bow lips, and naturally rosy cheeks. Even my lashes are longer than most women’s. They frame eyes so blue they’re almost translucent. My blonde curls reach the middle of my back.
I tentatively grab one of the strands and hold it up to my face for inspection.
A horrible thought occurs to me.
Will I have to cut my hair?
I wouldn’t say I’m vain, necessarily, but I love my hair. It’s always been my favorite asset.
I swallow around the serrated dagger lodged in my throat and quickly drop my hand back to my side.
You’ll do what you need to do.
For Teddie.
Making a few faces into the mirror, I practice trying to project masculinity. Boredom. Annoyance. Anger. Those emotions that they seem to be allowed to wear on the surface. Then I try a harder one. I smile.
Dammit! Immediately, there’s something off about my smile. It’s too coy. Too flirty. I think I might be jutting out my lower lip. Instead, I try another grin, this time deliberately sucking in my lower lip. Better. Not quite Teddie’s smile but definitely an improvement.
I’m so entranced by my reflection that I don’t realize the second door to the bathroom has opened until Harper says, “Everything okay?”
I jump about a foot in the air and spin around, my heart racing. “Holy shit, Harper. You knocked about ten years off my life.” I place a palm on my chest.
Harper’s already dressed for bed in a lacy nightgown that accentuates all of her best features. Darling Academy actually provided all of its students with these nightgowns, but I have yet to actually wear mine for longer than a few seconds. The one time I tried it on, my arms began to itch so badly that I wondered if someone doused the fabric with histamine. Lace is gorgeous, and I wish I liked it.
Hesitantly, I offer a compliment. “Looks good on you,” I state as I gesture at the gown.
“Aw, thanks. When did you get back tonight?” Harper asks, tilting her head to the side.
I turn back toward the mirror, careful to keep my expression neutral, wondering if she’s noticed just how many nights I’ve snuck out lately. It’s been what…four or five in a row since we decided on this twin-swap scheme? Dammit, Harper. Be more self-absorbed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I squeeze a tiny bit of moisturizer onto my palm and rub it into my face. “I was in my room this entire time.”
Her perfectly plucked brows furrow. “I knocked, but you never…” She frowns and shakes her head. “Never mind. Did you finish the assignment for Mrs. Lotty’s class?”
I freeze, my hands halfway extended to my face, and slide my eyes toward her in the mirror.
Shit.
“Um…”
Mrs. Lotty is our Culinary Arts teacher, because omegas need to know how to cook the dinner before they set the table. She gets into a lot of math. Like all the time. She has this idiotic saying about the triangle of taste, combining sweet, salty, and savory. She even uses both hands to form a triangle with her fingers. The girls crudely joke about Lotty’s triangles, which look way too much like the Eiffel tower position. They say she’s secretly giving us tips for our future threesomes.
Our assignment this week was to do a bunch of measurement conversions for tripling a recipe. But math is my literal nightmare. I’m certain I’ll do far better in Eros Academy’s physical training than I do in math, despite my ankle, because that’s how bad I am. And dammit all, I forgot this project.
Harper grins and hurries into her room. She reappears a moment later with a sheet of paper in her hand. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I frown, eyeing the paper like it’s about to come to life and stab me.
“The assignment.” Harper shoves the paper toward me yet again, expression insistent. This time, I take it, albeit hesitantly. “I copied your handwriting the best I could.” She shrugs. “And I made sure not to get them all right. That would be too suspicious.”
My mouth pops open as I struggle to find the words to say.
Every person I’ve ever met at Darling Academy has wanted to be my friend, but it’s not because they care about me as a person. No, they simply want the prestige of saying they’re “besties” with the princess. Maybe they hope I can secure them an invitation to one of my parents’ lavish balls. Or maybe they think I can help them secure a high-profile alpha match.
Whatever their reasoning, people here pretend to be my friend until they realize I can’t get them what they want. Then, they drop me like yesterday’s trash.
I try to say it doesn’t bother me, but the truth is…I’m a little lonely.
Just a little.
Not that I would ever admit that out loud.
But nobody has ever done anything like this for me. I mean, they’ve offered to buy me meals at restaurants, but nothing personal. None of the other omegas have even noticed the way I end up scratching out answers or using my eraser so many times that it’s worn to the nub in the space of a week.
My roommate isn’t just observant. She’s thoughtful.
This is the perfect gift.
I’m a little bit dazzled and also a little bit terrified to take it.
Harper smiles at the flabbergasted expression on my face. She has to know that she would be in a lot of trouble if she were ever caught helping me cheat, yet she doesn’t seem worried.
“See you at breakfast tomorrow?” She carefully pushes her hair behind her ears.
“Yeah,” I murmur in a daze, staring down at the completed worksheet. She even made my two with a loop when I know for a fact that she draws a straight line on the bottom of hers. “Thank you,” I remember to call out as she leaves.
Harper waves and then slips back through her door. It closes with a nearly silent thump.
Why would she do this for me?
Does she truly want to be my friend, or is she like everyone else, using me for my status?
Shaking my head, because I have far more important things to worry about like fraud and identity theft, I finish getting ready for the night and then duck back into my bedroom. My laptop, sitting open on my desk, flashes with an incoming email. I hurry toward it, unsurprised to see that Caran has finally emailed me with the custom schedule he’s been tweaking for days now.
A ball of tension forms in my throat as I click on the email.
This is the best I can do.
-C
Below it are two schedules—one for Darling Academy and one for Eros.
I look at Darling Academy first. None of my classes have changed, but their times have.
MONDAY:
9:00 AM – Manners and Etiquette with Madam Ellora
3:00 PM – How to Please Your Alpha(s) with Madam Ellora
WEDNESDAY:
2:00 PM – Culinary Arts with Mrs. Lotty
5:00 PM – World History with Mr. Sneaks
FRIDAY:
10:00 AM – Scenario Training with Madam Ellora, Mrs. Lotty, and Mr. Sneaks
Scenario Training is my least favorite of all the classes. You’re given a situation and must react accordingly. Last week, we were all instructed to create a menu and seating chart for an upcoming “ball” we were supposedly hosting. The week before that, we had to design a dress befitting a mating ceremony with our future alphas.
Gag. Me.
I click on the document labeled Eros Academy.
Teddie’s name appears in bold letters on the top of the page. Below it is the standard “You’ve been accepted, blah blah blah,” and “You’re helping your country blah blah blah.” I sift through all of that until I reach the class schedule.